#road less traveled applies

[fortunaestalta]

[backtodecember-taylorsversion]

My brother needs to go to therapy. He has got huge family problems. His childhood was messed up.

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for writing and drawing Wheelchair using characters: Your character's wheelchair can tell us a lot about them

When you first start learning character design, you'll often be told something to the effect of "use your character's outfit to tell us more about them" - and this same principles can be applied to a disabled character's mobility aids.

Mobility aids like wheelchairs, to many disabled people, are a part of us. They can be an extension to a person's body and chances are, if you're going to be using this piece of equipment every day for the foreseeable future (or at least for a good amount of time for the foreseeable future), it's going to start reflecting some aspects of your personality, your interests, your passions, especially when you remember, a lot of people get their wheelchairs custom built for them.

You can use your character's wheelchair to tell us a lot about them without ever needing to show/describe them directly.

Let me show you two examples:

Take a look at these two wheelchairs. they're similar in shape and build, but still pretty different to each other. Can you make some guesses about their users based only on what's shown here?

intended answers below:

Please note, the following points are all generalisations and the real world is rarely this simple. This is to demonstrate how to use disability aids to contribute to your character's design, not how to make assumptions about real people in real life.

So here are some similarities between the chairs:

Both wheelchairs have ridged frames, this means the wheelchair can't be folded in any way. These kinds of chairs can imply a few different things depending on the person. They are typically lighter, sturdier and more durable, and indicate the person probably will be using the wheelchair for a long time and/or has the money to get something built to last (or lives in a place where cost not an issue due to universal/subsidised access to healthcare). They are also typically better to travel with when flying, as they are less likely to be broken by airport security/staff.

Both wheelchairs also lack anti-tip wheels, which are a third set of wheels that extend from the back of the chair. Them not being present could indicate the person is likely pretty confident in their ability to use the chair without worrying about tipping out. It could also indicate they are in an environment where the anti-tips could be more of a hazard than a help, such as on rough terrain.

So lets look at some specifics for the green wheelchair:

Take a look at the wheels. The front wheels are pretty small and appear to be solid, while the back wheels appear to be quite narrow (compared to the orange chair anyway). This indicates the user likely lives somewhere with decent accessibility like a (well funded) city where they are unlikely to encounter unpaved/dirt roads/grass. Small front wheels and thin back wheels are good for manoeuvrability and a smooth ride over even terrain, but they will get stuck as soon as bumps appear, so this probably isn't an issue for this person.

While its a bit hard to tell unless you have seen other similar wheelchairs, this wheelchair is very long in the front, meaning the footplate and front wheels are further away from the seat than most. There could be a few reasons for this. One either indicates the person has very long legs, or a lack of motion in their knees, making it harder to bend their legs. This is moves the chair's centre of gravity forward by a decent amount, making it harder to tip back, which could indicate the person's legs are very light. You tend to see this most often in the wheelchairs of bilateral leg amputees, who are at a greater risk of tipping backwards due to a lack of weight at the front of the chair (even if they wear their prosthetics).

The colour of the chair is bright. This could simply be the character's favourite colour, or maybe this colour has some significance to them?

There are stickers on the side of the chair relating to the Paralympics. This could indicate the person is a fan, or perhaps had some involvement in the games?

The wheelchair has handles on the back, but they are able to be folded down. This is a popular feature for people who are independent enough to go out on their own, but still want to have the option for some help. folding down the handles also deters random strangers from grabbing at you (an unfortunately common experience for wheelchair users).

There is some mild paint scratching to the front of the wheelchair, but nothing too noticable. This is typical of older chairs and people who are a little rough on their chairs. Maybe they've had a few stacks and falls throughout the years, probably going a decent speed.

Ok, now let's look at the orange chair

This wheelchair has very large, inflatable front wheels, and very thick back wheels. This will make the chair slower and less manoeuvrable on flat/even surfaces, but much, much easier to push on rough terrain. This is supported by the amount of mud on the wheelchair.

The seat on this wheelchair tilts upwards slightly. This is called a bucket (or according to an old basketball teammate of mine, a dump-truck lol). This is a feature you typically see in wheelchairs made for people with spinal injuries who are unable to move their legs and engage their lower bodies or core to help keep them stable.

The back of this chair is very low, indicating that if this wheelchair user has a spinal injury, it's probably pretty low on their spine, likely fairly close to the hips, making the person a low-level paraplegic. Higher-level paraplegics and quadriplegics usually need a higher back to help support them and keep them from flopping over, since all the muscles below their place where their spine broke either doesn't work, or is significantly weaker. Higher backs though can get in the way of pushing and reduce mobility, so people who need less support will likely opt for a lower back rest.

This wheelchair has no handles, which indicates the user is probably very independent and doesn't need a lot of help getting around.

The paint on this wheelchair is very scratched up, showing the person is very tough on their wheelchair and doesn't care to get the paint touched up.

This wheelchair has no breaks. This is very common on chairs with larger tiers as they don't tend to be as effective, but also on many outdoor wheelchairs, for two reasons. One is because they are made for rough terrain, so chances are, you aren't going to go far without a big push to get you moving. The second reason is that to get over large bumps and obsticals in a wheelchair, it can be helpful to do very large pushes using the top and front of the wheel. When pushing a normal chair, most people will only use the top section of the wheel to push since it's closest, but these big pushes that use the front of the wheel make it easier to push, since you can benefit from downwards momentum. However, this is also where the breaks are located on most wheelchairs, which can create a hazard. I've lost entire fingernails by them getting snagged on the breaks when pushing this way. So if you live somewhere where the breaks are not going to be helpful to you often, it makes sense to not get them.

And here are the characters who own these wheelchairs

The owner of the green wheelchair is an amalgamation of a few people I knew from when I played wheelchair basketball. They're a bilateral leg amputee, and judging by their outfit (The Official National Wheelchair Basketball uniform for Australia), they're an elite athlete. This wheelchair is not the one they play sport in, but it still needs to be durable enough to withstand the rough treatment of airport staff when traveling, as well as heavy day-to-day use that comes with being an active person. While it needs to be rough, the person also seemed to want to prioritise speed and manoeuvrability, and likely doesn't need to worry about rough terrain too much, so they probably live in a major city.

The owner of the orange chair was inspired by a family friend of mine. They live on a farm, and need a chair that can handle life in those conditions, rough terrain and all. This comes at the cost of speed and manoeuvrability on smoother terrain, but honestly, anyone who's lived in the country knows you won't find many of those around there anyway, so that's not too big of a sacrifice. They are paraplegic, are very confident in their ability to use their wheelchair, and probably doesn't need help too often, but still benefit from some extra stability support from the raised seat on their chair.

Conclusion

Once again, these are generalisations, and in real life there are always exceptions, but I hope this helped demonstrate what I meant when I said you can use your character's wheelchair to tell us more info about them if you're smart about it.

I originally planned to do a whole series of these, showing a wider variety of wheelchairs and the people who they belong to, but I guess I kind of forgot because they've been sitting, abandoned on my hard drive for the last 2 years 😅. If that's something you folks would be interested in seeing though, let me know, I'd happily revive the series lol.

[myouicieloz]

Live my life

band!aespa x fan!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and they still don’t have a lot to offer, and there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them blindly.

Warnings: smut. lowk confusing… but it’s the aesthetic

Word count: 9.9k

Notes: I HAVE RETURNED FROM THE DEAD 😤😤 I was obsessed w the MV as soon as it was out so I wrote this work!! it ended up being too long (lol) so i decided to split it in 2. I SHALL NAWT VANISH ANYMORE PINKY PROMISE.

pt.1 | pt.2

—

“Do you think it’ll fit?” Ningning’s hesitation is easily explained by the amount of suitcases hanging from the small hood of the car. The four girls agreed to bring each a single backpack of clothes for themselves, so the instruments and sound equipment could also be transported.

Clearly, it was still too much.

“It has to.” Winter answers, her tiny frame reaching up as she tries to grab one of the big suitcases herself. With Ningning’s help, she manages to do it, and they both stare at the car, wondering about an adjustment that would work.

Just as both girls imagined how to rearrange the space, Giselle and Karina stepped down the house's stairs, frowning.

Karina, is, as always, not amused by the struggle placed in front of her, but Giselle scoffs, judging her bandmates for not having things ready yet. They were supposed to pack their stuff in the car while she and Karina prepared their snacks and made sure all the windows and doors were closed, so they’d find no surprises once they got back home from their trip. Now, they’d leave later than expected, which would result in them facing the road at night— which was exactly what they were avoiding.

This day was starting to piss her off.

“What are you doing?” Giselle crossed her arms against her chest, trying her best to not sound as irritated as she was. They all knew, though. The girls know each other too well.

“Playing Tetris.” Minjeong stared back at her, with a tone that was just as presumptuous. “What does it look like we’re doing, Gigi? The space is obviously too fucking small for all of our stuff.”

Karina takes a step further before Giselle is able to open her mouth and give her friend a petty response. Her clumsy hands rearranged the suitcases so fast the three girls barely registered her actions, closing the hood of the car in a quick motion so everything wouldn’t fall off.

“Mhm, you won’t be able to see much of what’s behind the car, Gigi, but I don’t think it can get any better than that.”

The girls simply stare, impressed by Karina’s skills.

“So… problem solved?” Ningning asks, and they all nod.

Without a word, the four girls enter the small car, squeezing themselves as they prepare for their small trip. It wasn’t uncommon for the band to spend hours stuck in Giselle’s stepfather’s old 2000 Civic, but the lack of space was always annoying, making them all feel packed in like sardines. However, the vehicle was the only option they had to make their way to nearby cities to perform, so they avoided making any complaints.

The band was just about an hour into their 4-hour drive when Giselle pulled over, cursing under her breath.

“Fuck.” She mutters, biting her nails as she looks at the line of cars being stopped by the police, just a few miles ahead. Her face was even paler than usual, which set the girls on alert mode immediately— out of the four of them, Giselle was the least likely to panic at any unusual situation.

As soon as her body tensed, the Uchinaga felt long, lithe hands on her neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to soothe her, filling her with reassurance. Karina’s, naturally. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, why did we stop?” Ningning adds to Karina’s question, just as curious.

Minjeong’s brows furrow and she adjusts her posture, trying to stare at the horizon in the same position Giselle was, from the passenger’s seat instead. As always, she’s quick to understand the situation. “They’re stopping the cars ahead, but it’s just their normal procedure. They’ll stop us, of course, since we’re young girls traveling by ourselves with a bunch of luggage, but we’ve got nothing to hide, so… keep going, unnie. It’s fine.”

Seconds went by before Giselle grunted, a tense atmosphere hanging in the air while she fidgeted her fingers. Only then, her answer came, barely in a murmur. “I don’t have a license.” She could only hope they hadn’t heard her.

Judging from the way her bandmates’ mouths opened in shock they all started to speak together, though, they did.

Such a selective hearing, huh. She always had to yell at them at least three times for someone to get up from the living room and do the dishes, whenever they were home.

“What the fuck, unnie?”

“Do you really drive us illegally? Girl, we go everywhere by car!”

“I can’t believe you’re so damn irresponsible, I fucking swe—“

Karina stops their banter by out-screaming the two younger girls, a few minutes after Giselle had shrieked down on her seat so much she could merge with it anytime. “Wait! Wait.” Three pairs of eyes stare at her, inquiring. The quietness was odd, but it didn’t last much anyway. “I thought you had your permit taken last month?”

It’s Giselle’s turn to roll her eyes, then. “I literally told you that I failed. Do you pay attention to anything I say?”

Despite the situation they found themselves in, Minjeong and Ningning couldn’t help but giggle. It wasn’t news that Karina’s got her head up in the clouds, but her innocence was always funny to the girls. Despite being the oldest, she’s just a big puppy, after all.

And she looks outraged, ears red from the thought of being fooled by Aeri.

“What? we even celebrated!” Her face comes to the realization, as Minjeong tries to hide her laughter with a fake coughing fit. Winter’s blonde hair blows effortlessly when she turns her head to the window, in an obvious attempt to escape Giselle’s piercing stare. “Oh! Was that why you were being such a jerk the entire night, at the club?”

Giselle ruffles her hair in frustration but nods anyway. “Yes, that was the reason. Thanks for reminding us of that wonderful day, Jiminnie.”

Ningning taps on Karina’s shoulder, in hopes of offering some comfort to the desolated girl. She whistles, then looks from Aeri to Minjeong as if hoping they’d pull a permit out of nowhere and start driving again. Once it’s clear none of them would provide any solution, she does so herself, lifting her hips to grab her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’ll call Y/n.” Is all she says, clicking on the red number with 13 missed calls on the screen. “She’ll do something about it.”

Karina’s even more outraged, then, staring at Ningning in disbelief. She tries to reach out for her friend’s phone, but the maknae pulls her hand away with a huff. “Why do you even have her number, anyway?”

Sure, you’d be at their presentation, even if it were at a nearby town, hours away from where they lived. Somehow, you always show up. The girls couldn’t even remember when it happened; all they know is that they played at Ningning’s cousin’s club once, and from then on there you were, accompanying them in every step. You took pictures, edited videos to upload on their YouTube channel, and even helped them get some gigs every once in a while. It’s difficult for the girls to understand the reason you spend so much time and effort with them— a broke, nugu band who’s been doing this for a little over a year, yet there you were. Their first and most faithful fan, ready to drop everything to help them with any situation, at any given time.

Just like now.

Nonetheless, they had agreed to keep you at an arm's distance, only so the lines wouldn’t get too blurry. With time, they got to know you better, and it was noticeable you were as spoiled, obsessive, and explosive as you were sweet and passionate about the things you liked.

Truth be told, you scared them a little.

“I thought we had agreed on not talking to the psycho anymore,” Minjeong commented, resting her head on the window.

Ningning pauses at that, muting herself on the phone for a moment before answering, straightforwardly. “Well, do you want to get there or not?”

Her honesty is harsh enough that Minjeong lifts her palms in surrender, while Karina and Giselle share a knowing look. Ning’s right, naturally —what matters is that they get to the club on time.

“Fine,” The blonde sighs, turning to point at Karina. “But you’ll have to handle that nightmare of a weirdo. Don’t let her freak out or anything, like she did last time.”

“Why do I always have to do it?” Karina pouts, rolling her eyes. “Come on! What the fuck.”

Giselle giggles, grateful that Karina can’t reach out to punch her as she nods. “I agree… it’s a leader’s duty.”

With her brows furrowed and her rosy lips, the oldest member of the band looks much like a doll, adorable in all of her mannerisms. Even when she scoffs, it doesn’t come out nearly as rude and intimidating as she intends it to be. She still looks like a painting, so pretty Ningning pokes her playfully, brushing the irritation out of Karina with her ticklish fingers. Once she’s left ticklish in her seat, Ningning drops her phone, done with her call.

“Y/n said she’ll be here soon.” She announces, and the girls hum faintly in response. It’s enough for her to giggle, reaching out for her bag in hopes of finding a snack. “Don’t be too excited, damn...”

“I just hope she doesn’t take long,” Giselle mutters, ignoring the glares she gets by being to blame for their current situation.

“Well, if someone had just passed their driving test, we wouldn’t—”

The Uchinaga turns to Winter so fast her neck makes a weird noise. “Shut the fuck up, Minjeong.” Her tone is full of mockery, which is dangerous. Giselle gets irritated easily, but it’s hard to get her mad. Whenever she does, though… None of the girls like that. “I don’t see you driving around either.”

Minjeong, who’d rather die than recognize she doesn’t excel at something, puts a hand on her chest with the comment. Her face is quickly filled with red and, in a minute, she’s defending herself as if she’s just received a 5-year sentence.

As much as their banter is entertaining, Ningning still clings onto Karina on the backseat, resting her head on her unnie’s shoulders.

“I do hope Y/n arrives soon.” She tells her friend, closing her eyes despite the noisy background.

Karina smiles, ruffling the maknae’s hair with tenderness as she relaxes beside the oldest. “Don’t worry, Ning. She will.”

If there’s something she’s sure of, is that you don’t play when it comes to their band. Be it for good or for worse.

—

“Hello, cuties.” You say, tapping your knuckles on the driver’s window to gather attention. It works: the girls all jump in their seats, cursing under their breaths as they try to gather themselves from the scare. “Your knight in shining armor has come! Hurry, hurry! You’re running late.”

It had been less than an hour since Ningning’s call, so there’s no way you could’ve reached them so quickly. None of them say those words out loud, of course— some questions are better left unanswered.

“Here comes the devil.” Minjeong mumbles. The smile she gives you is drenched in feigned politeness, yet yours is sincere, bluntly ignoring her grumpiness with a wave of your hand.

“Hi, Y/n.” Karina greets you as the four girls get out of the car. You hug each one of them energetically, clearly pleased to be urged to help.

It doesn’t even bother you that Giselle, Winter, and Ningning only mumble, not paying you much attention. If only, your happiness would take long to wear off.

Still swooning, you gesture to the van that’s parked beside their car where a handsome, baby-faced boy waves at the girls with ease.

“My brother won this van at a bet a few days ago, and fortunately, he lent it to us. It’s more fitting for a band anyway.” You gesture at their car, still explaining. “Gyu can take your stepdad’s car back to your house, Gigi. Don’t worry.”

They already know Beomgyu from the previous times he’s dropped you off at their rehearsals and shows, so it’s nothing new. Although Giselle doesn’t seem convinced about your idea, she reluctantly gives him the car keys anyway. There’s no other option; she can’t just leave the car on the road, even though giving it to a stranger makes her uneasy.

“Thank you, Beomgyu-ssi.” The girls bow at him, thankful for the extra space, to which he simply nods.

The girls are quick to transport the suitcases to the van, stretching their legs out as they sigh with contentment. It’s like they can finally breathe, now that they’re not cramped in a tiny space. Even Minjeong is smiling, her little banter with Giselle being long forgotten by now.

Giselle is in the passenger’s seat, this time, and she’s surprised to see how easy it is to talk to a happy Y/n. You laugh and gossip over other bands the girls come across sometimes, and you tell them the entire story of how Beomgyu actually got the van. Time flies by while you’re on the wheel, and soon enough the four girls find themselves at the back door of the club, fixing their instruments for the time they go on stage.

—

“Do you get all those insane takes with this old-ass camera?” Ning asks curiously, holding the straightener against her hair as she watches you record Winter, who’s busy tuning her bass and pretending you don’t exist.

“It’s vintage, unnie.” You correct her, zooming in on the blonde girl’s delicate hands and her precise movements against the cords. “It has amazing quality, still.” Because Ningning is still staring, clearly waiting for a more direct answer, you add, “Yes. Pretty Much. Hey Minjeongie, look at the camera so I can get a better shot of you.”

All Winter gives you is an irritated look as she scrunches her nose and shakes her head. The girls enjoy arriving early at their events so they’re able to gather a few minutes of quietude, strictly to relax and focus on not letting the nerves overcome their abilities to shine on stage. You know that— it’s something you’ve seen them do countless times before. You find it adorable how they’d just close their eyes and try to control their breaths, fingers tapping their thighs to ease the anxiety that always comes with the wait of going on stage. No matter how many times they perform, the thrill will always be the same.

Although you don’t mind interrupting Winter’s time of focusing at all. Seeing you won’t give in, Winter scoffs, dropping the bass onto her lap. “Be polite, Y/n. Say please.”

Her intentions are as obvious as daylight. She’s mocking you, defiant like the insufferable being she is. Out of the four girls, Minjeong is the most stubborn, and you’re much alike. She was the one you got into most arguments with, none of you backing down from the opportunity of being right.

Said banter is the reason you turn and adjust the camera focus to Ningning, instead of giving in to the blonde girl. Yizhuo looks pretty as always, smiling at you as you kneel to get a take of her from a better angle.

You’re immediately interrupted by the same girl who was irritated by your presence just seconds ago. In a blink, Winter’s hands go to your chin, forcing you to face her with an assertive grip. “No. Film me.” Her porcelain skin shines against her dark eyes, who pop out even more, making her intimidating aura stand out in the small room as she adds with an icy, commanding tone, “And have manners.”

God, you’d gladly take her down just to get rid of that cocky tone.

“Stare at the fucking camera so you can have some decent solo shots, Winter unnie.” Your reply comes immediately, tone dripping with venom, “Please.”

Winter’s face is so red you’re afraid she’s going to combust at any second. She never spares hurtful words during arguments, and you’re ready for her to give it all. Disaster is set to happen until Giselle pops her head backstage, looking for you. Her eyes disappear and her cheeks flare up as soon as she meets your face, breaking the tension with a smile once her presence unintentionally ends the small battle you were having with Winter.

“Y/n!” She calls, handing out her hand to help you stand up. “Could you come help us with the drums, please? The guys from the bar are trying, but they’re so damn useless… We need you.”

You look away and Winter’s grip on you fades, although her trimmed nails still scratch your jaw as she lets her hand fall to her sides and returns to the couch, tuning her bass as if she had never been interrupted.

“Sure, Gigi. Let’s go.” It’s impossible to not smile back, allowing yourself to be guided through the narrow stairs of the place until you arrive at the stage. You don’t bother saying goodbye to either Ningning or Winter, knowing you’re going back to them as soon as you’re done.

The two younger girls are left by themselves, in silence for the first time since you arrived to pick them up, hours ago. It’s unsettling yet peaceful; not uncomfortable by any means. They’ve known each other for too long by now, so being with each other is more than natural— it’s one’s absence that is unsettling.

After giving her hair a few finishing touches, Ningning turns to her bandmate, pulling the chair beside her as she gestures for Minjeong to sit. Its leather cover is torn and the comfort is long gone, but they don’t mind. They’ve performed in far more awful places anyway.

“Okay, I’m done! Be still while I do your makeup, now, unnie.” Minjeong does as told, closing her eyes while the maknae starts moisturizing her skin.

The silence has Winter’s mind replaying the previous banter nonstop. She tries to stay silent, but the memory of your petty smirk is enough to leave her fuming, pumping with rage.

“Can you believe her, Ning? That fucking bitch, ugh. She’s so insufferable.”

“Oh, definitely.” Ningning smiles, thankful Minjeong has her eyes closed. She lets out a small giggle, still focused on brushing the concealer through her friend’s face. “God forbid someone puts you in your place, right unnie?”

She nearly doesn’t escape the highlighter Minjeong throws in her direction, now laughing freely as she continues with her task.

—

Aespa is a band of many talents.

The girls all met during sophomore year of high school, all trapped in detention for the day (as much as Minjeong would rather die than admit she’s ever gotten detention in her life). Even though they differ in personalities, in a clear contrast of cultures, manners, and experiences — their differences somehow added to each other until there wasn’t something missing anymore. The feeling of longing and loneliness that had accompanied them for so many years had finally ceased. After that, the girls found themselves at peace: the world was finally silent, as long as they were together. No matter how chaotic it was, Karina, Minjeong, Giselle, and Ningning knew they’d like nothing else but to be together.

Luckily, they all shared two main passions: the love for music and the desire for attention, so being in a band together was something that happened rather naturally. The members all agreed, then, that Karina should be the leader. She was soft-spoken, calm, and had the experience in the industry the others lacked, from being a child model. It was the right decision: the oldest would do anything to protect her girls, and knew just the right people to ask for opportunities. They weren’t famous, nor did they make enough money to live off exclusively from the music, but it was enough, for now.

They had trouble understanding you, though. It was hard to grasp why on earth would they have someone so faithful, so committed to following their every move when they weren’t even famous? They didn’t have money, influence, or anything to offer you whatsoever. Yet you were always there, giving them your endless support without asking for anything in exchange. You could be a handful sometimes, sure, but still… your commitment was something that left the girls constantly wondering.

Because you’re special. The world will see this too, someday. is what you’d always answer, followed by a giggle and a wave of your hand, muttering about how it all wasn’t that big of a deal.

But as Giselle watches you help them relocate their instruments and set the tripods and cameras straight, she wonders if that’s truly it.

“Hey, Gigi.” You smile at her, looking down at the ground once you realize you’re the object of her piercing, focused gaze. “Are you and the other girls ready to go? Everything’s in order here.”

Now isn’t the time for that, though, Aeri reminds herself. As of now, the only thing she should focus on is her upcoming stage. Music is one of the many things she was strict with: she pushed herself to nothing but perfection, no matter where she was performing.

The other girls are quick to follow your call, grabbing their instruments and getting into their starter positions as they’ve done countless times before. They all adjust their mics to the perfect height until Karina is the only one left in the center, tapping hers to make sure she sounds loud and clear. Ningning’s hands fiddle with her drumsticks nervously, paddling along with her whole body— surely from the energy drinks she’s had minutes before, while Minjeong and Giselle stay each on one side of the stage, waiting for their leader’s cue.

Offering free tickets for those who arrived before 11 PM was a great strategy that many clubs implemented to fill up their spaces. And even though you’re well aware the girls are known enough to gather such a crowd without that stunt, you’re glad to have a full house staring at the small stage with expectation.

Karina waits until you’re done with your camera’s finishing touches up to speak, her voice echoing through the noise so easily that your hands stop adjusting the device’s focus to pay attention to her. With a smile so big her eyes grow small, her face is like a beacon, gathering all the focus to herself without the need for a spotlight.

“Goodnight! I’m Karina, and those are my bandmates: Minjeong, Giselle, and Ningning.” She points to each of her friends, who bow and wave excitedly, still waiting for her cue. “And we’re AESPA! We hope you like our music, we’ve worked hard on our songs! Please enjoy.”

With that, Ningning taps on her drumsticks, as they’ve done countless times before. Minjeong’s bass and Giselle’s guitar sync with Karina’s voice as soon as they start playing, the melody echoing through the place like physical particles. Music is more than just a part of their lives: it’s who they are, how they express themselves, what they breathe, and it’s easy to forget they’re at a shitty pub and not at a fancy festival. As long as their voices and instruments are harmonizing together, the girls get lost in their passion and nothing else matters.

Even though they’re a new group— barely a year into the industry, original songs are not something that lack from their setlist. The public is screaming, the girls are jumping as they sing and dance along the rhythm and you try your best to capture their best angles, but the distraction in the form of a sin that is Karina prevents you from doing a good job. Her dark eyes glow in the dark, giving her an angelic aura as her strong voice reverberates through the place with ease, despite her shitty mic. It’s an impressive crowd they’re performing for, but she’s only staring at you. Preventing you to breathe or even move, afraid she’d lose her interest and look elsewhere.

No, you’d have none of that. Like all the girls, Karina was yours: you’d share her utter attention with no one.

So you stay at the front line, with your hands holding onto the camera as your head is held up in a frozen frame, looking at her.

You’d always look at her.

—

The afterparties are always one of the girls’ favorite events. The adrenaline rush is still present, giving them tons of energy to drink and party with strangers. They are constantly showered with compliments, being pampered, and indulged with all the attention they crave. It’s part of the reasons why they deal with music, obviously: Minjeong, Giselle, Ningning, and Karina. Because the desire to be seen and recognized for their music is a feeling they’ve been looking for ever since they can remember.

And that’s exactly what they were indulging in before hearing a loud crack from outside of the backstage room. The noise, followed by a bunch of ugly screams, startles the four girls, who exchange a quick, worried glance before storming down straight into the sideway alley.

“Damn.” Ningning whistles, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the smile coming from her lips. At her side, Minjeong and Karina are equally shocked and frozen at the scene unraveling in front of them.

People usually use the dark, space to smoke and get a break from the noisy, heated space of the club. Instead, the four girls find a huddle of girls so entwined with one another it’s hard to tell how many there are. Four, maybe five? Of them are vividly screaming, kicking, tugging, and pulling hairs. Despite the mess, the girls realize there’s one that keeps beating the shit out of them, which is impressive due to being gravely outnumbered.

As the commotion stops for seconds once the strangers become aware of the newer company, it’s easier to tell a specific head of honey hair apart from the others.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Minjeong’s murmur doesn’t come off nearly as disappointed as she intends to. If anything, she’s also holding back her laughter while you prove that one does not need that much muscles to win off a fight.

“Go Y/n!” Karina claps, cheering. None of the three girls make any move towards the scene, so Giselle turns her head towards them in disbelief.

The Japanese girl shrugs, quickly making her way onto the ground to break off the fight. She’s always been strong, and her time spent at the gym pays off as she grabs you by the waist and throws you over her shoulder, heading back to the backstage room as if you weigh nothing. Any attempts of resisting are useless, yet you don’t make Giselle’s job any easier— your kicking and screaming are now directed at her, hands curling into fists while you use your entire strength to hit her muscled back.

“Put me DOWN! I’m not done with those whores.” Your feverish voice is ignored by the four girls, who are used to your tantrums by now.

They know you’re naturally provocative, and never one to back down from a fight, even if you were in the wrong. And, somehow, you were good at it too: even if you left bruised and scratched, your opponents would somehow always turn out worse.

“Sorry ladies, we have some issues to deal with. If you excuse us.” As the group goes back inside, Ningning offers the poor beaten-up girls a calculated smile before closing the door on their faces. She doesn’t bother to check in on them— they’re strangers, after all.

You’re thrown onto the worn-out sofa with little care, suddenly staring at four serious faces. The funny atmosphere of the fight is long gone, so you cross your arms under your chest and grunt, face held high to put up with their judgmental looks.

This is their job, and they can’t have you causing trouble over anything. You’re associated with them by now, whether they like it or not. It’d be an awful occurrence.

“So, troublemaker, tell us.” Giselle is the first to speak, brushing the bangs out of her face. Even after carrying you for solid minutes, she still looks flawless, much different from your disheveled self. “What had you beating their asses out there?”

There’s a pout on your lips, and the defiant air in the room stirs up their nerves. It’s an annoying interruption of the fun they were having just now, and the alcohol makes it hard for them to stay patient.

Minjeong takes half a step forward, her hands messing up your hair even more. “Speak, Y/n. We have better things to do.”

She doesn’t coddle you, tone cold as it always was when directed towards you, but you don’t mind. If anything, you take pride in making her life a bit more difficult every time. You know they won’t give you their attention for much longer, though, which is why sigh deeply.

“I was defending your honor, you idiots!” You gesticulate towards the door, huffing. “Those whores were out there, talking about you, speaking the most vile things… I had to do something. You should be thanking me, and not look so pissed.” You roll your eyes, muttering the rest to yourself as you sink on the dirty couch. “You never acknowledge anything I do anyway.”

It had felt too hot inside, so you passed the backstage area to gather some fresh air at the alley when you encountered the group of girls. They were in love with the band, obviously, and were very vocal about the things they’d let the girls do to them: how their leather clothes were so tight and how hot they were… Hearing such things being said about your girls made your blood boil. They were yours, and no one else had the right to desire them like that. So you were quick to take action and make sure everyone knew who Giselle, Winter, Karina, and Ningning belonged to. As a matter of fact, It was a successful attempt: after the lesson you taught them, those girls would think twice before saying anything again.

Your gaslighting does little to the band; it’s easy to look further into your façade now that they know you. They don’t pity you in the slightest, well aware you’re one to be cautious around.

Karina smiles at your act. She can’t help it if the pout on your lips makes you so adorable, and your crossed arms are the reason your send nudes crop top rides up so your boobs are even more evident. “Which things, Y/n? What were they saying, exactly?”

“What they said doesn’t matter.” You huff, dismissing Karina’s question with a wave of your hand. “The important thing is that they’ve been dealt with, and your honor is intact. You’re welcome.”

The electronic music is loud, and it’s easy to feel the rhythm reverberating through the furniture, sending electric waves to your bones that rile you up even more. You’re energized, ready to go back to the crowd, drink, smoke, and stir up some trouble again.

Aeri must’ve been thinking the same thing since she merely shakes her head and leaves without a word. Ning is the next one to follow, proceeded by Minjeong, who rolls her eyes and points her finger right at your face.

“You’re such a menace, Y/n. Acting like an animal… you can’t behave at all.” You’re used to the disdain in her voice, so the only thing you do is mirror her snobbish stare as you watch her leave.

Unlike her bandmate, Karina’s eyes are kind— even though you’ve just messed up hard. You’re the only ones left in the room, you realize, as she holds out her hand to you. With her presence, the music ceases, and the only thing you can focus on is the sound of her heartbeat, and how her little chin mole goes up to match her smile, which is equally sweet.

Sweet, patient, and definitely too good for you: that’s Karina, a soul that should stay untouched, not yet ruined by the world and by other people.

Too bad that you’ve never been one to do the right thing.

You navigate towards her in a magnetic motion, taking her help so fast your bodies nearly crash once you get up from the couch. Instead of complaining or making fun of you for being so abrupt, Karina takes her free hand to your face, cupping your cheek before carefully wiping the dirt from your skin.

“Troublemaker.” She repeats Giselle’s words from earlier, although they sound almost reverent when said in her raspy voice, tired from the crazy routine they live with. “She’s a bit right, don’t you think?” The smirk on her lips is playful, and she toys with you. “You keep us on our toes, for sure. I guess someone has to.”

She doesn’t mind. If anything, Karina misses your presence when you’re gone— which is thankfully, a rare occasion. Sure, you’re stubborn, spoiled, and very annoying, but the band somehow needs you to keep their engines running. She knows the other girls feel the same way about you too, even if they’re good at not making it known.

Being with Karina feels right. She’s Aespa’s peace, their leader, and their oldest member. And, just like everybody that has ever met her, you long to be around the older girl.

“Let’s go back to the party, Jimin unnie.” You tell her, crossing your arms behind her neck. If there’s anything she’d want you to do, you would. Gladly. “I want to dance.”

She smiles back at you, looking at the half-open door before nodding. “As you wish, Y/n.”

—

Aespa’s hotel room for the night is precarious, to say the least. The wallpaper is peeling from the walls, the furniture is dusty— and the small dining table seems to barely handle your laptop and media equipment. The bed makes too many weird noises at the slightest movement, and the smell of mold is a bit unsettling for those with a decent sense of smell.

It’s Minjeong’s job to deal with their spending and to book their stays, whenever the band wanders off their hometown. Her father works as a treasurer at a well-established company and has taught her how to handle her own money from a young age. Sometimes, though, she tends to spend too little, given the fact that they still did not earn much with their performances, and the five girls would end up in situations like the current one. Not that they truly minded: they had two rooms to sleep in and breakfast by the morning, which was more than enough. They would handle the rest.

Karina, Giselle, Ningning, and Minjeong are all rockstars, it’s natural for them to thrive under attention. They live for it, and you love to record their pretty faces. Out of all the experiences of being with the girls, getting to take pictures and videos of their performances and looks— be it before, during, or after their shows. Editing might also be a pain and sometimes feel like a chore, but it was also something you enjoyed doing.

Besides, the praises and the proud, enamored look Giselle, Ningning, Karina, and Minjeong gave you whenever you updated something new to their channel and social media was something you looked forward to, naturally. In fact, you’re so focused on your task that you barely notice a sudden wave of hot breath on your shoulder.

“How far are you, yet?” Karina’s wet hair clings to your neck as you breathe in her post-bath scent, so refreshing. You’re unable to see her sulk behind you, but her whiny tone is enough for you to figure her feelings out before she adds, “Also, why am I the one with the least videos, Y/n?”

You don’t even stop your work to look at the vocalist, who stares at your laptop’s screen with expectation: the answer is obvious to anyone who has ever had the privilege of getting to know Aespa's leader."

“Because I’m always too busy looking at you to focus on anything else.” The words leave your mouth immediately, exposing facts. “But I’ll improve for next time if that’s what you wish.”

Doing anything after Karina opens her mouth is impossible. Her angelic voice and sharp moves draw all the attention to her immediately; one would be completely insane to not be mesmerized by her. By all of her.

“It is.” She nods, still so close you’re able to feel her body pressed against you through the chair’s cracks. Like a kitten, Karina purrs, finally breaking the tension between you by pressing small, wet kisses to your neck. “Y/n…”

You’re doomed. You’ve known that ever since she left the bathroom, with wet hair and red, swollen lips that did little to hide what she was up to while the shower was running.

Karina’s long, purple-painted nails scratch your neck, forcing you to pay attention to her— as if you’d do anything else. You’re quick to comply, closing your laptop as you stand up and walk away from the oldest member, onto your backpack. Her confused brows are adorable, but the realization comes soon once she reckons the camera on your hands. By then, there’s a dirty smirk on both of your lips; you know she loves this as much as you do.

“Are you up for another show, doll?”

Karina nods, suddenly shy from all the dirty thoughts going through her head. Her skin throbs, and there’s a familiar sensation building up in her core from the anticipation.

After waiting for the camera to be well adjusted and centered in front of the bed, with the familiar red dot announcing the recording, she turns around, removing her robe with practiced ease. The silk fabric of her robe cascades from her back, exposing her milky skin in its most perfect form. She’s indeed like a doll; body still untouched, announcing it’s been a while since she’s had any fun, and her Venus dimples flare up with every step she takes towards the bed. Her curves are perfectly enhanced by her sensual walk— she knows so, grabbing her hair out of the way so you’re able to get a clear shot of her body.

You’re so lucky to even have the privilege of looking at her. Karina seems to think the same thing; her knowing smile turns malicious just as she sits on the bed, spreading her legs out for your delight. Playing around with her is almost a routine, by now: Karina needs something, someone to be her stress-relief, and you’re more than eager to help.

However, seeing her bare and so eager to welcome your touch was something you’d crave forever. No matter how many times it happened: you’d always be hungry for the slightest glimpse of her pretty pussy.

And it was no secret that Karina loved to show off, so you drink on her like you haven’t had a single drop of liquor in ages.

It had indeed been too long.

“How do I look, baby?” Her voice is soft, calm as she looks deep inside your eyes and taps on her pussy with two of her fingers. A small strand of wetness lingers between her fingers and her slit, and she takes her fingers forward to make a show for seconds longer. It’s only when the strand dissipates that Karina brings her fingers into her mouth, taking them in ever so naturally. You don’t even register the whine that comes from your lips once she releases them with a ‘bop’, right after licking them clean.

“Absolutely stunning.” Your answer comes in a heartbeat, which pleases her deeply. In a blink, you’re in front of her on the bed, although still careful to not cover up her frame for the camera. Not that you have to worry about that; Karina is well aware of her best angles. “As always.” You lick your lips, eager to have your mouth on her, licking every part of her body until she’s more than satisfied, coated with your saliva.

But you know better than to touch her without permission, so you simply wait, aware she needs more indulgence than merely a few words. You run your hands up and down her legs, ever so obedient, hoping she’ll allow you to touch her.

Instead, her fingers go up to her chest, groping her big, voluptuous breasts. She’s so evil— Karina knows how obsessed you are with her boobs, “You caused so much trouble today, Y/n… I shouldn’t let you touch me at all.”

Her feigned innocence only adds to your desire, dampening your pussy even more. Even though you’re burning up, you can’t help but be in awe by how much of a goddess she looks, and it takes everything in you to not just grab her by the ankles and suck on her clit until she was screaming and leaking white from her pussy. Still staring at you, Karina twists her nipples and moans, biting her lip as she breathes in deeply.

You’re already throbbing yourself, and she’s done nothing. That’s the amount of power she has over you.

“I’ve been bad.” You nod almost eagerly, ready to do whatever she commands you to if it means you’ll get to pleasure her. “Can I still have you, though? Promise to make you feel super good.”

At first look, Karina might be the most inviting one out of all of the girls, but you know better than to fall into her trap: just like her bandmates, the leader thrives on playing games, manipulating people, and fooling around. Thankfully to both you and her, you’re happy to indulge in all of her wishes. So you add, battling your lashes at her as you take off your clothes yourself, not bothering for a command on this matter. “I’ll do my best for unnie…”

Karina’s eyes darken at the sight of your naked body; it’s so empowering to know she’s just as affected by you, and she runs her fingers through your hair with practiced ease. Taking her silence as an encouragement, you lie down until your face is lined up with her soaked cunt, blowing warm, rapid breaths onto her sex.

She smiles, then, caressing your cheek before giving it a light tap. “Go get the strap, baby.” Your smile fades immediately, and you contemplate ignoring her words until she’s changed your mind before your cheek is met with more of Karina’s fingers, her touch stronger this time. “Now.”

You huff, muttering incoherences because she’s such a bitch, ruining all of your plans, but still do as told, grabbing the strap without much further fussing. With the toy in hands, you return to the edge of the bed, staring at her with a puzzled look on your face.

“Are you going to use it?” You ask, curious. Taking Karina’s cock was something you always looked forward to, and the sight of her pounding onto you was enough for your walls to clench, eager to welcome her.

Karina launches forward before you even finish your question, grabbing your thighs with practiced ease as her fingers brush your pussy. The surprise touch makes you let out a loud moan, which stirs up a laugh on the older girl.

“If only you’d behaved today… I had so many things planned for us to do.” Karina’s voice sounds almost regretful, making you kneel once again, “No, baby. Tonight’s only about me. Now suck.”

There’s little time for you to think her thoughts through. Your mind goes blank, and you open your mouth to give her a show this time, reversing the roles. Always eager to please, you gag on her cock. Saliva drips onto the sheets as she shoves it down your throat, but you don’t seem to care, emptying your mind to give her will over you to use you like a toy. She’s not sweet or slow by any means— Karina’s innocent smile, welcoming posture, and puppy-like personality make a good disguise for hiding how dirty she is. Part of her tells herself it’s wrong, and that’s why she tries to reject how much her body craves rougher actions, but the truth is that the hiding and the expectation also turn her on.

Those thoughts hover in your mind as you bob on her strap, looking at the leader through your lashes while you gather all your focus on giving your best for her. You try to look your best, and give your best for Aespa’s leader: she deserves nothing less, after all. It seems to be enough for Karina, who sighs at the sight of you staring from behind your lashes with your hair all over the place ever since her tangling hands went to your scalp, encouraging you to keep going for so long you’ve lost track of time.

“Beautiful. You look so beautiful like this, baby.” She murmurs with a low, sultry tone as she takes the strap from your mouth and seals your lips in a slow kiss. You’re starved for her; your boobs press together when you deepen the kiss, desperate for more. At this point you’re already soaked, leaving a deep, wet spot on the sheets— and your skin burns. “Don’t be rude. Say thank you.”

Such a tease, she is. You roll your eyes at her trying to rile you up, and she laughs. “Don’t even.” You mutter, rolling your eyes at her.

Karina’s hands go to your thighs, caressing your skin as she motions for you to get up once again. “You’re so stubborn.” She chants, adjusting the strap on you. Per her request, you lay back on the bed as soon as you’re done, somehow managing to sink under the shallow pillows.

There’s such a mean smirk dancing around her lips. Your cunt aches and it’s borderline painful; sweat covers your body and you’re nearly sure you’ll go insane if you don’t give her all the pleasure she’s worthy of very soon. All you want is to eat her out until she’s breathless, porcelain skin all marked begging for you to stop. Then, you’d lick her clean, making her cum so many times there’d be plenty of milk dripping from her hole for you to drink on. All yours. She’s all yours to tend to.

“Why don’t you just let me do it already…” You whine, drawing your head back when she grabs one of your nipples and twists— the friction feels so good it sends a hit of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Instead of indulging your needs, Karina laughs, and there’s a hidden mockery in her tone that only adds to your frustration. She comes close until her hips rest on your thighs, with the strap being the only thing that keeps a distance between you. Before you’re able to test her patience even more, she positions the dick on her entrance, slightly rocking back and forth so it hits deliciously against her clit.

“You can look.” She says, grabbing your shoulders to steady herself. “But you can’t touch. Understood, baby?”

Karina’s eyes, big and expressive, stare at you with feigned innocence as one of her hands caresses your jaw, lifting your face so you’d stare at her. Having her making such luscious sounds so close to you is like a death penalty. Karina’s mouth hangs slightly open, and you gulp whenever she aligns the fake dick with her entrance, giving you a serious look that makes it clear that she expects an answer to her command.

A huge bitch, she is. A hot, sexy, and huge bitch. It’s nearly impossible to stay still, but you can see the challenge in her eyes as soon as she cocks her head at you. Although her little act of defiance is silent, her intentions are as clear as day: she wants you to humiliate yourself: to beg for forgiveness so you’ll maybe get granted the privilege of touching her.

So you smile back, placing your hands on your hips and doing nothing else, even if you’re itching to run your tongue all over her body. “As you wish, unnie.”

Karina is so wet, of course she is— it’s not hard to leave her drenched. The dick slides in easily, and she takes her time with taking down its inches. Your grip on her hips turns slightly stronger at the sight of her looking so angelical, as her big, soft boobs are all in display to your face. That earns you a censoring look, and you move your hands with another eye-roll. There's nothing more you want but to touch her.

After a few breaths, Karina finds a steady pace, bouncing on your lap. The gushing sounds of her pussy that echo through the room are nearly pornographic, and you find yourself letting out desperate whimpers, too.

“So good.” She murmurs, lost in pleasure. Her grip on your shoulders tightens, and you feel her muscles tensing up.

You can’t help it— watching her pleasure herself is almost too much. Without much thinking, your fingers make their way to her clit, circling her hardened as you study her, testing out the waters. She lets out a gasp at the sensation, closing her eyes to enjoy the way her lower abdomen kept building up the tension. The tingling sensation increases with the rhythm of your strokes, along with her moves, and it doesn’t take much further for Karina to cum.

Just as always, Karina’s strong voice fills the room as she takes her head back, clenching her pussy once the waves of pleasure hit her with strong motions. Her entire body trembles, and she relies on you to keep her steady.

“You look the prettiest when you cum.” You tell her, after a few moments of silence.

The laugh she lets out is weak, more like a giggle as Karina sighs deeply, carelessly throwing herself on your side of the bed. She turns to you, then, so close your noses are nearly touching, disregarding your words as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “And you can’t ever behave, can you?”

You mirror her smirk, pecking her lips before shaking your head. “You like it that way, though.”

The two of you stay in a comfortable silence, one you don’t mind at all. The girls have had some busy, tiring weeks, and you know Karina needs rest. She’s tired—they all are, so the tension relief was well welcomed by the oldest girl. Despite being all sweaty and breathless, Karina is much less anxious now that you’ve helped her relax. She runs her fingers through your body, taking her time until she reaches your pussy. It delights her to feel how soaked you are: she’s aware of the amount of power she holds over you, and the fact that you’re gulping, still throbbing yourself, is something so empowering to her.

It makes her insides tingle all over again, asking for more.

“Jimin…” You whine again, opening your legs to give the girl better access to your entrance. You need her to touch you or else you’ll explode.

Two of her fingers enter your cunt before you can cry any further, hitting a fast pace without warning. The action is well welcomed, and you hold her wrist, motioning to go further. But Karina loves to make you frustrated; it’s almost as if she thrives on it: just like they made their way inside, her fingers are gone, and her mean smirk is back.

“You haven’t behaved at all today.” She repeats herself, laughing as she kisses your pout away. You bite her lip in response, which makes her pull your face away, although she’s still giggling. “You’ll get nothing tonight, baby. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at her, “You’re such a fucking liar! You’re not sorry at all!”

Karina turns her back to you, making a show of ignoring you as she grabs the covers just as a big yawn hits her. “Goodnight to you too, pretty. Sleep tight,” You roll your eyes, ready to give her a sneaky remark when she adds, “Oh, and don’t forget to turn off the camera. We don’t want you running out of battery or anything, do we?”

“You’re such a bitch.” Although you still get up and do as told, knowing she’s partially right.

Karina waits patiently for you to return to bed, with her small eyes and big smile. The sensuality and roughness from earlier have been replaced by her usual bubbly self, which you adore just as much. It has always been amusing to you how easily it is for her to just switch back and forth from the luscious, gorgeous woman she is to her puppy personality, and you adore her either way.

You hop into her arms, humming when she fills your neck with small, wet kisses.

“You have to behave, silly.” Is what she tells you, biting your skin gently. You’re one to bruise easily, you both know it as much. However, you say nothing, allowing her to do as she pleases. “Otherwise you won’t get a reward.”

“We’ll see about that.” You murmur, happy to get lost in her cuddles. “I sure need something after that torture session.”

Your words cause you to be pushed back, although you know Karina’s only joking.“Oh my God! Go to sleep, Y/n. Goodnight.”

“Ugh.” Is all you answer, closing your arms around her waist.

“Y/n.”

“Right, right.” You sigh, “Goodnight, cutie. Can I get a kiss?”

The hand that goes through your face is enough of an answer.

“Sleep. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” She commands.

And because it’s Karina, you obey. You’d always hail the band’s leader.

Your personal camgirl.

—

Breakfast has always been something you’d skip if you could. It’s a pain to wake up so early, and you need at least an hour to be somewhat presentable and another two until you can properly talk to anyone. However, the soon you leave this shitty hotel the better, so you resume sitting beside Giselle and Ningning while they talk excitedly. You chew on your bread with scrambled eggs with perhaps too much patience, still marveling at how composed they look despite running on 5 hours of sleep.

“So, we’ve got good news. Amazing news, actually. Like, the greatest news ever.” Ningning’s nearly jumping in her seat, her eyes darting from you, then Giselle, Minjeong, and finally to Karina multiple times in seconds. Yizhuo plays with her hands, nudging Karina while nearly dying of anxiety. “Unnie, would you please tell them? Go, go.”

The excitement in her tone captures enough of your attention; you, Giselle, and Minejong collectively sit up straighter, exchanging a confused look. The fact that they know as little as you do is comforting, and stirs up a nice, warm feeling of being included within your heart. The girls could be harsh and a little mean sometimes, naturally, but there are times when they’re also very sweet.

Karina laughs, pinching Ning’s cheeks. Even though Ningning pretends she despises it, you love to baby her and spoil her rotten.

“You can do it, Ning.” She encourages her baby girl to speak up, loving the smile that brightens up the maknae’s lips after the command. “Go ahead, tell them what we’re doing next.”

With her leader’s blessing, Ningning lets out a happy squeal and launches herself upwards. The upper half of her body hangs on the breakfast table as she looks around before whispering as if the topic is top-secret.

“So, this guy approached me after our show.” She stops abruptly at your reactions, waving her hands, “Hey, don’t make such faces! He wasn’t a weirdo or anything, I promise. Anyway, he came up and said he worked for AKT Music Ent. and that he liked our music and thought we had potential.” Ningning pauses, looking up to her leader for reassurance. Once Karina nods, giving her a knowing smile, she adds, “And then I told him to talk to Karina, of course, because she’s our leader and all… but basically, he invited us to compete at The Box, next month. Can you believe it?”

“You’re fucking with us.” Minjeong answers, in awe. She looks at Karina, with her mouth still slightly open in shock. “Please tell me you’re serious. That this isn’t a joke or anything.”

Karina has a proud look on her face as she nods. “It’s a thing. We’re doing it.”

“HELL YES!” Giselle screams, laughing loudly. She reaches out her arms and squeezes you and Ningning in a tight hug, her embrace so strong it’s borderline suffocating. Not that you mind— if anything, it fills you with warmth to be with them in their first big accomplishment. “WE’RE PLAYING IN THE BOX! OH MY FUCKING GOD. WE ARE AMAZING!”

Minjeong and Karina laugh at her reaction, just as happy from the news. Taking part in the event is an amazing opportunity for them: the mere thought of performing at the stage is enough to give them goosebumps, both of fear and excitement.

The Box is a week-long competition where the top 3 winners get a 2-year long contract, each signed with one of the Big 3 music companies of the country: SM, JYP or YG. It’s an elite program where successful bands have gained popularity and recognition, like SNSD. It’s set at a big, open area at the countryside and held much like a festival: the event has become more and more capitalized with every passing year. The companies make sure to hold a big show out of the entire thing, broadcasting the events that happen simultaneously 24/7— numerous interviews, commercials are shot by the participants to support the sponsors of the competition, which helps them to make their debut on national television. There are various foods, restaurants and parties being held at all times. It’s also a great opportunity for fans of nugu bands to personally interact with them, and actually super nice to meet other bands and artists. Besides the main goal, being at the event alone is a huge honor and opportunity for the band to grow as artists. They certainly won’t take for granted.

Minjeong claps excitedly. “We need to celebrate!”

“Absolutely.” Giselle agrees, looking in disgust at the men who kept sitting at the nearby tables even though it was still fairly early, and the Diner was still empty. “At home, though. Let’s get out of here, please.”

The five of you exchange a knowing look, collectively getting up at the same time as you grab your belongings and hurry to leave the shitty hotel. Your hearts are filled with pride, and you couldn’t be happier for them.

“You deserve this.” Is what you tell them, breaking the steady silence that reigned in the car. The girls look at you, all returning from dreamland.

Even though their only response is a faint hum, the satisfaction on their faces tells you they needed to hear that. “This is only a result of your hard work. All the hours of practice, the shitty-ass places you played at before, the No’s you’ve gotten… It’s going to work out, trust me.”

Karina’s arms go to your neck, in a gentle caress as she adds, looking at her bandmates. Her best friends. “Y/n is right. We got this.”

There’s nothing they can’t do, as long as they’re together.

[rynwritesreid]

Mind Games~Spencer Reid

Chapter one~Genius 2.O

Chapter summary: You have just graduated from the FBI’s academy and a new member of the BAU’s team. Throughout your time at the academy you had heard so many great stories about the legendary Dr Reid and couldn’t wait to work along side him. However, Dr Reid is not your biggest fan and doesn’t know how to cope with someone being smarter than him.

Chapter warnings: Mention of a case (no details though) Fem! Reader. Angst. Spencer is mean in this and hates reader (though that will change in chapter four).

A/N: This series was requested, and it’s probably going to be the only time I do a requested series “A series where reader works at bau and she's as smart if not smarter then Reid and somehow you pick they end up in a relationship with dom Spencer”. I hope everyone enjoys it, and yes there will be smut in the near future ;).

~mind games masterlist~

~Join the taglist for mind games~

While you were in the academy, you heard all the stories about the genius who worked in BAU called Dr Spencer Reid. He is a man of such high intelligence, with three PH. Ds, an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, one who was well known to show of how smart he is and one who did not easily back down. He is the stuff if legends.

 

You, well you, are also the stuff of legends. You didn’t believe in telling people your IQ score, because you didn’t think it really mattered, but it was high, higher than Spencer’s. You had a photographic memory, which many people often compared to Spencer’s one, but you would have to tell them the difference between an eidetic memory and a photographic memory.

 

You watched all your peers around you talk about what division of the FBI they were applying for, many were going for counterterrorism and financial crimes, but you had your eyes on the BAU. You knew all about how it was a close nit family, how Hotch and Rossi were like fathers to the entire group. You wanted nothing more than to be a part of that team, that family.

 

And so, with a determination fuelled by your own exceptional intellect and a burning desire to join the ranks of the BAU, you set out on a path that would lead you down a road less travelled. While your peers were focusing on their chosen divisions, you dedicated every waking moment to studying the minds of criminals, honing your profiling skills, and pushing the limits of your own mental faculties.

 

Your name was everywhere with in bureau, you were being called the newest genius, one who was going to make a name for herself, and one who was going to take the FBI by storm.

 

Unit Chief Agent Hotchner had heard whispers of your brilliance echoing through the halls of the FBI. He had seen your name pop up on his colleagues' reports, accompanied by glowing praise and commendations. Curiosity piqued, he decided to dig a little deeper, intrigued by the prospect of a new prodigy joining their ranks.

 

Hotchner delved into your background, poring over your academic achievements and accolades. He was astounded by the breadth of your knowledge and the depth of your understanding in various fields. Your impressive IQ score and photographic memory only added to his intrigue. It became clear to him that you possessed a unique blend of intellect and intuition that would be an invaluable asset to the BAU.

 

He knew he had to have you in the BAU, he knew that you, Reid, and Garcia would be an unstoppable force. So, when he saw your application to join his team, he knew you were going to get the job.

 

So, when you got the call, telling you your application had been successful, you couldn’t quite believe that you had landed your dream job.

 *

It was your first day, Hotch was showing you around, who’s desk belong to who, where your desk was. It felt surreal, being in this building, been employed by the FBI, knowing you were going to be working alongside Dr Spencer Reid. 

As Hotch led you through the bustling bullpen, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you. The stories you had heard about Dr. Spencer Reid made him almost mythical in your mind, and now you were about to meet him in person.

Finally, Hotch stopped in front of a neatly organized desk and gestured for you to take a seat. "This will be your workspace," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Make yourself at home."

You settled into the chair, taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere of the room. Each member of the team had their own unique personality reflected in their workspace. Penelope Garcia's desk was adorned with colourful trinkets and gadgets, her vibrant energy apparent even in her absence. 

Spencer’s desk though, it was almost bare, there were a few files and books, but nothing fun, nothing that showed what his personality was like. You couldn't help but be intrigued by the stark contrast between Spencer's desk and the others. It seemed to reflect his focused and analytical nature, an embodiment of his dedication to the work they did at the BAU. As you settled into your chair, your eyes wandered over the shelves filled with books on various subjects - psychology, criminology, philosophy. Each book seemed well-loved and well-worn, evidence of Spencer's insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice that someone had entered the bullpen until Hotch's voice broke through the silence. "Spencer, I'd like you to meet our newest addition," he said, gesturing toward you. 

You stood up, you almost felt star struck, but Spencer didn’t seem to care. He glanced at you with his piercing gaze, his eyes scanning your face as if studying every detail. There was an intensity in his expression that sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of apprehension and fascination in his presence.

"Hello," you managed to say, your voice filled with a nervous tremor. "It's an honour to meet you, Dr. Reid."

Spencer nodded, a slight tilt of the head that conveyed acknowledgement rather than warmth. "Likewise," he replied curtly, his attention already shifting back to the stack of files in his hands.

You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at Spencer's aloofness. You had built up this image in your mind of the legendary Dr. Reid, someone who would be eager to share knowledge and engage in stimulating conversations. But here he was, seemingly indifferent to your presence.

Everyone else seemed to love you though, Derek had made a few flirtatious comments, Emily, JJ, and Garcia had invited you to go grab some drinks with them, Hotch and Rossi had told you good coping mechanisms, but Spencer seemed to be annoyed any time you spoke, or laughed, or really did anything. Everyone told you that’s just how he is when he doesn’t know you, but it still hurt.

You were determined to prove yourself to Spencer, to earn his respect and break through the cold exterior he seemed to present. You knew that gaining his trust and acceptance would not come easily, but you were ready to put in the effort.

*

Though the days turned into weeks and then into months, Spencer's demeanour towards you remained unchanged. He continued to keep his distance, always engrossed in his work, rarely acknowledging your presence unless absolutely necessary. It hurt, but you refused to let it deter you from your goal.

You poured yourself into each case, determined to prove your worth to the team. You spent countless hours analysing crime scenes, studying victimology, and delving deep into the minds of the perpetrators. Your keen intuition and sharp analytical skills began catching the attention of your colleagues.

You thought this might change Spencer’s mind about you, but it seemed to make him hate you. JJ had told that Spencer was used to being the smartest, everyone praising him, but you seemed to be smarter than him and that wasn’t something he was used too. But you couldn’t and you wouldn’t change who you are just to make someone feel better about themselves. 

But the tension between you and Spencer continued to simmer beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. It was as if there was an unspoken competition, an invisible battle of intellects that neither of you were willing to back down from.

Despite the strained relationship, the BAU team continued to function like a well-oiled machine. Cases were solved, perpetrators were apprehended, and lives were saved. But there was always that lingering tension between you and Spencer, like an unresolved chord in an otherwise harmonious symphony.

One particularly gruelling case tested the limits of everyone's mental and emotional resilience. The team had been chasing a prolific serial killer who seemed to always be one step ahead. Sleepless nights and relentless hours of research had taken a toll on everyone, yourself included.

You were at your breaking point, not knowing why you couldn’t solve this case, and Spencer’s attitude problem with you was the cherry on top of the cake. You knew you had to say something to him, because you knew you couldn’t carry on like this.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Spencer's desk after everyone else had left for the night. His eyes were glued to the computer screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. This was your chance to address the tension that had been building between you.

"Spencer," you began, your voice firm but gentle. "We need to talk."

He glanced up at you, his expression guarded but curious. "What about?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of scepticism.

“You have an issue with me, and I know you are used to being the smartest person in any room you walk in to, everyone looking up to you as a God. But maybe you should get use to someone been on the same level as you”. 

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, a mix of surprise and irritation crossing his features. "I don't have an issue with you," he retorted, his voice laced with defensiveness.

You took a step closer, determined to make him see the truth. "You do, Spencer. Ever since I joined the team, you've treated me like an annoyance, like I'm intruding on your territory. But I'm not here to compete with you or undermine your intelligence. I'm here to work together, to bring justice to those who deserve it."

“God, you think you’re better than everyone else don’t you, Y/N. You’re not, you act like everyone should worship the ground you walk on. I bet you were top of your class in the academy, got straight A’s all throughout your school life, but that doesn’t matter now. You are not as clever as you think you are.”

Spencer's words cut deep, slicing through the tension between you with a sharpness that left you momentarily speechless.

“That’s what you think about me? You think I believe I am better than everyone, but I don’t. But I know you do, your outbursts are common knowledge Spencer, or that fact you love to rub it everyone’s faces that you have a doctorate.” You basically shouted this at him.

Spencer's steely gaze locked onto yours, his face a mask of disbelief mixed with anger. "You don't know anything about me," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom.

You felt tears starting to form in your eyes, you knew you couldn’t be around him any longer tonight. Turning on your heel, you made a swift exit from the bullpen, unable to bear the weight of the confrontation any longer. The familiar corridors of the BAU headquarters blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat, the weight of Spencer's words heavy on your shoulders.

As you found solace in a quiet corner of the building, your tears streamed down your face, mingling with the frustration, and hurt that consumed you. The confrontation with Spencer had left you feeling vulnerable and doubting your place on the team. It was hard to fathom how someone you once idolized could turn out to be so cold and dismissive.

There was a small part of you that wished you had never applied for this job, or you had been rejected. You didn’t want to quit, you wanted to prove Spencer wrong, but you knew you couldn’t do that with the state you are in. But this wasn’t over, and you would do everything you could to solve this case, and make Spencer like you, or at least be kinder to you.

~Taglist~

@bitchassbecky691 @iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123

[galedekarios]

references in gale's banter on selection

just thought i'd go through a few of his selection lines that stuck out to me.

Oh, what a tangled Weave we web!

reference to: "oh what a tangled web we weave" from a poem by sir walter scott:

"Like so very many of Shakespeare’s lasting observations, it’s  a beautifully expressed aphorism that uses just a few words to describe one life experience so perfectly, and is so true, that it enters into the English language and becomes one of its most powerful idioms – one that will last forever. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive’ means that when you lie or act dishonestly you are initiating problems and a domino structure of complications which eventually run out of control. The quote is from Scott’s epic poem, Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field.  It’s an historical romance in verse, published in 1808."

the next one is is a play on a line from a shakespeare play:

All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

the play is titled 'as you like it' and the line appears in the following monologue:

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely Players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

the next one appears to reference a poem:

The path less travelled.

i think this is in reference to the well-known poem by robert frost, 'the road not taken':

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

i think this ties in well with gale's wanderlust, his wish to explore different worlds and planes of existence.

the next one is a waterdhavian saying, which i already took a closer look at in one of my metas:

'Doth thy mirror crack?' Apparently not.

Early on in his learning of magic, the long-dead and locally famous first Lord (revered in Waterdeep for his role in establishing the city as it is today) Ahghairon said, "I am no wizard. I am a dabbler but no master of magic; it seems no mastery burns within me." These are famous words in Waterdeep, still known by most Waterdhavian children and all adults, and are oft referenced, as in the dry comment "No mastery blazing forth yet," or "A dabbler but no master, eh?" (Comments applied to skill trades and crafts, not just to magic use.) Tuezaera Hallowhand was a famous "lone cat" thief of Waterdeep in the 1200s DR who disappeared suddenly and is thought to have come to a violent end. She once robbed a wizard, and wrote this on his wall with a fingertip dipped in his favorite red wine: "I take things. You take freedom with your spells. Which of us is the greater thief?" This statement, too, is well remembered, and usually echoed in Waterdhavian speech by someone using the last (questioning) sentence of Tuezara's inscription.  Laeral, Lady Mage of Waterdeep for some years (when married to Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun), once publicly rebuked an overambitious wizard of the Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors thus: "If I hurl spells but think not of consequences, I am nothing. If I take lives but count not the cost, I am nothing. If I steal in the night and see not the faces of the devastated come morning, I am nothing. If I make decrees like a ruler but undertake none of the responsibilities of the throne, I am nothing. And if I do all these things in the name of the Watchful Order, I am less than nothing. Doth thy mirror crack?" These scornful words are remembered and used almost daily in Waterdeep even a century later, though almost never as the full quotation. Rather, someone will ask scornfully, "Doth thy mirror crack?" or "Hurl but think not?" or "Take but not count cost? Be nothing, then!" [source: waterdeep: dragon heist]

i think this one is very neat:

No gloom, all doom.

because i believe it references xan of evereska from baldur's gate 1. xan is infamous for his gloomy nature, often talking about his doom, the folly of the quest, etc. some of his lines include the following:

"We're all doomed! Run while we're still able." "If we are doomed to fail, could we at least do it faster?!" "Eh. Onward, to futility!" "We're all doomed." "Life is so hollow."

i think it's not so unlikely because gale also references other characters from the baldur's gate series and the forgotten realms overall, like elminster:

Elminster's not around, so might as well.

as well as halaster blackcloak, a mad mage residing in the undermountain in waterdeep:

I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away.

as well as another character from the games, edwin odeisseron:

Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you.

edwin, a red wizard of thay, was a companion in baldur's gate 1 and 2.

No rest for the wicked, I see.

a common idiom that originated from the bible:

No rest for the wicked begins as no peace for the wicked in a 1425 rendering of the Old Testament’s Book of Isaiah 48:22: “The Lord God said, peace is not to wicked men.” The sentiment is echoed in Isaiah 57:20, which in the King James Version reads: “But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.”

another bible reference may be:

Seek and you shall find me.

You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart. 

from jeremiah 29:13.

more folklore than an idiom, but:

The witching hour.

Origins. The phrase "witching hour" began at least as early as 1775, in the poem "Night, an Ode." by Rev. Matthew West, though its origins may go further back to 1535 when the Catholic Church prohibited activities during the 3:00 am and 4:00 am timeframe due to emerging fears about witchcraft in Europe.

i couldn't find the poem in full, but i was able to find the line that references the witching hour:

Along whose banks at Midnight’s witching hour (So wayward Fancy dreams) aerial Beings pour!

another shakespeare reference is:

What fools these mortals be.

which is a line from a midsummer's nights dream:

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” is used in Act III, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare. The line is spoken by one of the best-loved characters in the play–Puck. Here is the short quote in which the line appears in:  Captain of our fairy band,  Helena is here at hand,  And the youth, mistook by me,  Pleading for a lover’s fee.  Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Puck speaks this line to his king, Oberon, while the two are watching the four Athenian main characters lost in the forest. These four lovers, whose love affairs are at the center of the play, are behaving in a way that Puck finds foolish and amusing. It should be noted that Puck bears some of the responsibility for the complicated relations between Helena, Demetrius, Hermia, and Lysander. 

this one is, i believe, a dnd reference most likely:

May the dice roll in my favour.

i did however have the immediate association with alea iacta est:

Alea iacta est ("The die is cast") is a variation of a Latin phrase attributed by Suetonius to Julius Caesar on 10 January 49 BCE, as he led his army across the Rubicon river in Northern Italy. With this step, he entered Italy at the head of his army in defiance of the Senate and began his long civil war against Pompey and the Optimates. The phrase, either in the original Latin or in translation, is used in many languages to indicate that events have passed a point of no return. It is now most commonly cited with the word order changed ("Alea iacta est") rather than in the original phrasing. The same event inspired another idiom with the same meaning, "crossing the Rubicon".

Gone with the Weave.

this is a reach, but my mind always went to 'gone with the wind' (margaret mitchell's novel and the 1939 movie adaptation of said novel) when i heard it in the game.

nothing in depth here, i just wanted you all to know that, haha. (((':

A rough tempest I will raise.

this may be another shakespeare reference and this time it's from 'the tempest':

Prospero: Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? Ariel: On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. Prospero: I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and's followers?

on researching, i found a reddit post that also discusses this likely reference.

the last one i want to end the post on is:

Your knight in magic armour.

this line is still bugged and thus i couldn't find it on the wiki, but it's an assist line for a romanced protag.

it obviously referenced the knight in shining armour:

The present-day use of this phrase is, of course, figurative and refers back to the notion of gallant knights saving fair maidens in distress. The reality behind that imagery is dubious and it no doubt owes much to the work of those Victorian novelists and painters who were captivated by the chivalrous ideal of an imagined court of Camelot. Nevertheless, knights did wear armour and that worn by royalty and the high nobility was highly polished and did in fact gleam and shine. The earliest reference that I’ve found to the phrase in print dates from the late 18th century – in The British journal The Monthly Review, 1790, in a poem called Amusement: A Poetical Essay, by Henry Pye: No more the knight, in shining armour dress’d Opposes to the pointed lance his breast

but it also features heavily in art, across various periods in time, like these from john william waterhouse:

i did see someone on reddit also discussing the creator and destroyer line in reference to various deities throughout history, which i thought was interesting as well.

anyhow, thank you for reading! i may have overlooked something so feel free to add your own thoughts!

🖤

[writingwenches]

Aemond x Peasant OC – Part 2

synopsis: our main character, Lyn finds herself propositioned in the most unexpected way. Aemond finally finds out the secret gift his mother's favorite lady, Cinda Lannister, has planned to celebrate the princess helaena's nameday

themes: classist!Aemond, spoiled prince boy Aemond, mc grew up in a westeros version of a nunnery, this is just the start of a larger “rewrite HOTD” type story. I posted this a few days ago, hated it, rewrote some of it, now its back lol

word count: ~5k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no targcest, dark themes, masturbation, voyerisom, dub/con, mentions of sex work, character death, mentions of child death and pregnancy complications. medieval standards on "womanhood", virginity testing, let's all remember the true inspiration for handmaid's tale: human history~ i would never survive in this time period eventho not having a job and wearing pretty dresses sounds very very very very nice until its not

READ PART ONE HERE

Learn to Fly – Act One – Finale

Lyn did not have the same privilege to mourn like noble ladies did. The Lady Aeditya had an entire wardrobe of black cloth and robes, as a way to signify to all those who perceived her that there was something missing, something lost unable to be returned. Lowborns did not have the time to pass away, on their knees in front of the Seven, begging for retribution. 

Lyn was allowed her moments, standing alone at the simple gravestone behind the Motherhouse. Hanna had not made it a week past their last outing at Erenford’s Keep. Something to do with her heart, the Maesters had told them, so they didn’t have to worry about spreading. She was the only one to visit her grave after the burial, the others seemed to have moved on, just as she needed to. 

Lyn did not have the time to mourn, with one less mouth to feed, the Stepas would allow her to stay for a few more moons, but Lyn was sure her time here was at an end. 

Where would she go? What would she do? Hanna had been immensely more talented than Lyn as a servant, a nursemaid or a farmhand, and she still struggled to gain employment. Where was the hope for Lyn? 

—

Cinda had taken so long in her travels to Haronfall, Aemond was sure she was stalling for some reason. He sighed loudly, sitting across from her in the plush wheelhouse, decorated in Lannister reds. Cinda’s eyes remained closed and her breathing steady. Aemond was sure she was asleep.

He was sure he could have flown Vhagar to Essos and back by now, but Cinda had assured them they were only a few days away from their destination. After his strange greeting from the town’s patrons, Aemond was not sure why he was even going back. 

Well, perhaps there was one reason. 

The road was bumpy and Aemond could not stop his eyes from finding Cinda’s heaving chest, as she gently breathed as the uneven road shook her chest about, sending waves of skin to dance in front of his eye.

Aemond did not like to think of Cinda in his base moments, she was a lady and was to be respected. But, a forgettable peasant girl was something else entirely. 

His eye set itself on the cavern in the center of Cinda’s chest, her sapphire jewel fell in the place between her breasts. He imagined his hands wrenching the fabric away, freeing her tits for his own view. Aemond pictures palming them, as the road rocked him against his hands. His own hand went to himself, unlacing his britches under a heavy blanket, needed for the colder climate.

His dominant hand wrapped around his base, applying pressure that forced a sigh from him. Aemond’s sounds had not woken Cinda, so he resumed the tapestry being weaved in his head. 

The peasant girl’s face, thrown back, her mouth open in pleasure as her tits jumped before him, as she bounced on his cock. He had only seen the sight while searching for his brother in places he shouldn’t be, but Aemond finally understood his brother speaking of it so fondly now. Aemond pictured suckling at Lyn’s nipples, making her cry out and beg him for more. He hated that she did not know his name, he wanted to hear her scream it. To beg him. To stop. To start. To do anything he wanted. He wanted to put that damned peasant in her place, stripped naked, on her knees, and forced to lick his boots as he sat atop the iron throne.

His hips thrust themselves into his hand, as his freehand braced himself against the carriage wall. 

He watched Cinda’s eyes to make sure she remained asleep, he matched his trusts with the bouncing of her tits. Aemond was the prince, and he could have whatever he liked, at least in the safety of his own mind. Cinda was alseep, but if he wished he could pry her open and fill himself inside her. He could hear her scream, her voice so known to him for so long. It rang in his mind, the sounds of her happy and annoyed and pleased. He could practically feel her smiling against his lips. It was almost as clear as a memory that he made her say “I love you” when she reached her peak.

Aemond spent himself into a handkerchief, he could swear his eyes was open but he could see nothing besides the stars. 

Before he could catch his breath, the guard was called that they had arrived and Cinda stretched her arms awake, offering yet another stunning view of what Aemma would call disgraceful. 

“My sweet prince, are you well?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“It was only a dream,” he assured. 

—

The baskets carried on her back felt an extra heavy load the next market. It had been a few weeks since Hanna’s death, and Lyn had not found a single reason to be cheerful, the Septas made sure she knew her work was suffering. The baskets were poor craftsmanship, and she knew it. But, there was nothing left to do but try and peddle them away, so have enough coin to produce for the next market, and so on, forever, she supposed. 

The Septas, too, had felt the loss of Hanna, their charge. She had been with them since her own youth, and the old women were many things, but they weren’t cruel, the girls were only punished when it was deemed necessary, which even they admitted was more often than they’d like. They were doing it in the name of the gods, to frighten the thoughts that could lead a poor, unfamilied, woman astray. 

Lyn’s work had been sloppy. First, she had dropped a group of baskets in the street, for them to be trampled over by a too quickly passing carriage. Her largest basket was sold quickly, then piled high with soft delicate squash from the northern shores of The Bite. 

“I am so sorry, m’lord!” Lyn scrambled on the ground, her basket bursting from the weight, and the delicate vegetation plopped down into the wet mud. “This has never happened before, I assure you!” 

The gentle squash was bruised and irreplaceable. Lyn pushed the tears back into her eyes as the purple faced man shouted at his inconvenience. She was forced to offer the man the meager contents of her purse to save face. She would be going back to the Motherhouse with less coin than she left, and that was simply inaccessible. 

“You must be the saddest group of little–“ the Septas berated the small group of girls in her charge, each having faulted during the market day and needed reprimanding. 

The vision of Septa Glaedis had been whittled down to a pale point with her age, but her hearing was a sharp as ever, and she was not one to put up with foolishness. The rage that the old woman consumed with every crack of her back, or creak in her knee was felt by the younger girls. They dreaded every front of cold air, as they knew Septa Glaedis’s mood would ever sour. 

Lyn knew to watch her breathing around Septa Glaedis, not wanting to give off the impression of an annoyed or impatient sigh and face the wrath of her faithful switch, thinly carved with hymns about the virtues of obedience. 

She allowed her mind to wonder, as the Septa retold hymns and passages Lyn had heard countless times before. The skies were grey and usual, a pale haze that passed over the world. It was rare that they got singular clouds in the lands near the twins, Lyn enjoyed finding shapes in the cloud, animals, faces, foods she had heard tales of and longed to try. There was nothing to find anything today in the clouds, she had to stop herself mid sigh, not wanting to fan the flames of Septa Glaedis. 

Passers by did not stop the mind them, the group of girls and Septas. They were trained in their invisibility, as all good woman and servants should. At least that’s what Lyn had been told. No one would want to see her, she was a lowborn girl merchant, and that title was something Lyn had to fight tooth and nail for. Last winter half the fingers on her left hand were crushed by falling stones from a builded fence. The Septas were able to set and save her fingers functions, at least enough to continue her basket weaving. It was one thing she was able to pray thanks to the gods for saving her from.

Lyn completely forgot herself with her eyes passed over silver strands, just across the muddied street. Passing horses trotted by, but between them Lyn could be sure of what she say. 

It was him. Again. The liar prince, come back to town. He smirked as he watched her beratement, gaining joy from her misery. 

Lyn forgot herself and laughed. 

“Is something funny, girl?” Septa Glaedis asked, with a whip of her switch. 

Perhaps, for the first time since she was a babe, Lyn had not expected the swing of discipline as it sped across her cheek, striking her to the muddied ground. She could hear the bark of laughter from the boy across the street. 

“Septa Glaedis! I am sorry, I am!” Lyn called as the woman struck at the air until she found the girl’s back with a whip, the other girls prayed the old woman to stop. 

The elderly woman followed her ears and turned her gaze to the barks coming from across the street, pointing out her switch to dare anyone else to cross her. Aemond’s voice caught in his throat at the threat from the old crone. 

Half of Aemond’s parentage had their roots deep in the heart of Oldtown, the epicenter of gentlemanly knights and courtly love. A true man of the Reach would have rushed over and covered the poor girl with his cloak, defending her from the villainous woman who dared to touch something that was his.

But, Aemond was above such things. The girl on the ground, her marked face flecked with foul-smelling mud, was no lady. Ladies deserved the help from a noble prince, and the dogs could remain in the mud, used for nothing more than licking the dirt from his boots. Ignoring the tightening in his britches at every strike across her back, Aemond did not want her, or need her, he told himself as he meandered through the market stalls until he found a smith who’s work was acceptable enough to sharpen his blade.

Aemond had spent the entire bloodied day trotting around the disgusting Riverlands, in search of Cinda and her damned surprise. When he had awoken in his tents that morning, she had vanished. Her maids had informed him that she was fetching the princess’s surprise. He did not like secret keeping, and Cinda knew that about him, so she dared to keep as many secrets as possible from him. 

Besides the whispers around the markets regarding the Lannister camp contracted outside of town, Aemond did not find a whiff of Cinda. Surely, if one of these peasants had been charged with making a gift for his princess sister, they would have boasted about it to their countrymen?

Cinda returned to the camp that night with her lips tightly sealed, not even wishing to play one of her silly guessing game she was always so fond of, no matter how many times Aemond brought it up.

— 

It was too early to be awake, and Aemond could feel the distant pull of Vhagar, flying high above the mountains of the Vale and away from the cold, sinking hole of the Riverlands. He rolled himself around in bed, willing him to return to sleep while the sun still hid from view. 

He had never been one to indulge himself this often, but the countryside was boring a whole in his skull. He would surely lose his mind if they remained much longer. Today, he would force Cinda tell him of her plans. He was the Prince and he could have her locked up in the Eronford’s Keep for disobeying his orders. 

His idle hand loosely brushed itself against his manhood, hardened from the morning air. Aemond’s mind was giddy at the thought of Cinda’s arms retrained wide, her body chained to a dungeon wall. He could picture her in nothing less than her most elegant of crimson gowns, one of the newer designs of the Red Keep, hugging her curves with a neckline that hung low and snug, her breasts barely able to be contained by the fabric. 

Her face shifted, darkening into lips of purple hue, marks on her face that stretched over her rounded cheeks. He moaned into his touch as he reimagined the switch striking that cheek. He watched the pain in her eye and could hear her moan in pain as she was brought to the ground. Aemond imagined himself holding the switch and inflicting the pain onto her himself, the lowborn scum that deserved her place on the ground, prepared only to scrum the floor beneath his muddied feet. 

And she had smiled at him. Her eyes catch sight of him and she smiled at him. Her cheeks rose up as her lips formed around the air ready to say his name.

He wondered how else he could pull such a thing from her again as he trust into his hand. He pictured her spread on the floor of his tent, her skirts too short gaining him a perfect view of her calfs, a view he would indulge by tearing the fabric from her waiting skin. 

He was a prince, and she was his subject, his property. He had every right to send the lowborn to war or drag them into his beds. Aemond could do whatever he liked with the lowborn river girl, nothing more than a common whore. 

He would lick the darkened marks that covered her body until her reached to mouth. Her hair, in small plates across her back, was enough for him to fist, as he shoved himself into her lowly mouth. He imagined her choking on his length, spittle dripping down her neck in a way unbecoming of a proper lady. He made her beg, for something, for everything. He came in his hand and fell back asleep. 

Cinda tickled a feature against his eyes to wake him up to break their fast.

— 

Lyn had never rode in a cart before, at least not since she was too young to remember. The girls were all excited, the small group gathered by the Septas for a special job opportunity. The red banners embalmed with golden lions had set up camp just outside their halls, Lyn could just see their colors peaking above the horizon from their sleeping room. 

“I hear they are the richest house in the realm,” one girl said, as the camp came nearer into view. 

“I heard they have a castle made of pure gold!” another chimed in. 

“I hear they use slaves in their mines,” the last girl huffed, waggling her fingers at the ruby clad guards on duty as their cart passed into their protected camp. 

Lyn found herself amongst a group that she found odd. The same way she could have been described as striking, so could these other girls. Mismatched eyes, and hair with streaks of white, moles and marks and discolored skin, covering their bodies, just as her own bumped black marks covered Lyn’s. 

“Why us?” Lyn asked, pulling at a loose string of her skirt hem.

“We are the ugly ones,” the last girl who spoke of slaves shrugged, her face marked with redness and pinpoint scars. “These high born ladies are afraid that someone might best them at their own game, so I’d bet they are stacking their servants with hideous beasts, like us. To make themselves feel even more beautiful.” They all had a good laugh at that.

Whatever gained Lyn employment, at this point she did not mind. 

“Are we going to be servants to true high born ladies?” a girl asked, “The richest house in all the seven kingdoms, you said?” 

“I bet the kitchen scrubbers get better scraps than we ever did,” Lyn said, all the foods she could only picture in the clouds, would soon be in her grasp. Her mouth watered at the thought of the orange from her Liar Prince, the smell had not left her mind, every night as she tried to fall asleep, the sweetness mixed with the tang. It was unlike anything she ever experienced before. And now, she was about to gain the opportunity to experience something like that for the rest of her days? 

“We must,” the girls huddled together to discuss their new plan, “be on our best behavior. We must insist that we all gain employment this day. We are all skilled, we know our worth, and we can serve actual ladies and lords!” 

The grand room in the tent was larger than many houses made of wood and stone Lyn had witnessed. Her mouth hinged open as she looked around at the endless tapestries and sculptures that were past every layer deeper into the tented maze. 

“Lyn!” one of the girls hushed and prodded her hard in the side. “Close your mouth, stupid!” 

Lyn reminded herself why they were there, and straightened her back as high it would go, her shoulders back and her fists balled at her side, before peering at the other girls’ hands gently folded in front. 

She steadied her breathing, and couldn’t help but run her hands over the carved chairs, more fine than any in Erenford’s Keep. 

There were flowers, colors that Lyn had never seen in nature, just sitting across tables as the girls weaved single filed. Lyn imagined being charged with placing those flowers in their vases, gently packing them in finely sanded wooden boxes that smelled of ancient trees. 

She stepped out of line and breathed in deeply of their scent. “Lyn!” another girl barked, shoving her back in line, but first quickly smelling the blooms herself. They mouthed the gods name in vain, in an attempt to contain their excitement. 

Lyn wondered how they had gotten all of this here? Had they really been towing around wagons and carts filled with chairs and fine paintings and porcelain vases all across the Riverlands from the…west? Lyn had not bothered to wonder where these great Lion Lords were from. She was sure it was somewhere far past The Twins, and perhaps even across the seas.

If they had enough coin to traps across the countryside, with all of this racket in tow, surely they could hire all five of the girls brought before them. Never again would Lyn waste away a winter, pulling the work from her bare bones, with nothing but boiled potato skins for nourishment.

One girl motioned towards a small group of girl servants fussing over a plate of rainbow colored cakes. They were all beautiful, flawless and pure, but they were not small. Thick of self and well fed, it was clear. Lyn was sure that servants in their charge would have their promised breads and meats and maybe even cheese, and they would never run out. 

They would never know hungry again. 

The girls were wrangled to the main area of the giant tent fortress, contrasted for the pleasure of those at its heart. The chattering of nobles ended in whispers as the ugly girls were brought into the room. The sad lot of damaged girls had spent their life getting gawked at by others, but nothing compared to the stares of the lovely, etherial and simply perfect. Every single one of them. 

The women’s dresses were fine, made of different hues of red fabrics, with golden flecked thread sewn throughout the visage. Aeditya had a single gown with golden stitching along the neckline, and its was her most prized possession. It traveled in a tightly closed box, always in her possession, in case an appropriate occasion ever arose. Aeditya had allowed Hanna and Lyn to admire the craftsmanship on a few occasions. The thread was thick and intricately wrapped in golden floss, the gold wrapped thread alone could take a lifetime to master the art form, and these ladies had gold thread weaved through every piece of clothing. The main woman, seated upon a crimson plush throne, Lyn could see, had golden threads etched into her shift peaking above her tight neckline, and her perfectly curled hair glowed in the light, pure gold. 

Perhaps their castle was made of pure gold.

“Thank you for following my instructions so closely,” the woman’s voice pealed like a psalm, the sound was as if it too were wrapped in golden thread. “But, you really did not need to bring so many.” 

The girl’s form tightened, all standing shoulder to shoulder to be observed by the throng of beauty and grace. Lyn’s lips formed into a hard line, these people had so much coin, surely they could find use for five souls that were in desperate need of their kindness. She tried to wrack her brain for something to say, something to explain that they were all worthy of love and acceptance and a warm bed at night and…

In that moment, there had existed the road Lyn had been traveling on her entire life until it was ripped out from under her so suddenly, she almost fell to her knees with her own eyes locked on another’s…one. 

“What’s happening?” Lyn whispered, more to herself than to the other girls, wanting to confirm that what she was seeing was in the flesh. 

There he stood, his hands clasp behind his back, the same black leathers from the market the day before, eyepatch covering his eye. The Lair Prince. On the raised pedestal with all the other noble ladies all wrapped in golden threads.

“You only need had bring one. I can see her from here,” Cinda said, her arms outstretched.

“Lyn,” one of the girls bumped her shoulder to retch her eyes away from his. Lyn nearly jumped from her skin as the woman raised from her seat and made her way straight towards her. 

“I am sorry!” Lyn could find no other words than to apologize, for sure the lady was about to strike her down for some unknown transgression. The lady was coming for her.

“My niece! Lynora, I have finally found you after all these years!” 

“No, no,” Lyn was not entirely sure what she had just heard, but she could feel the other girl’s hands being wrenched away from her as they were ushered off. “No, wait please!–“ They disappeared behind the curtains, their arms grasped by armored men. Lyn was alone. With these people. 

“My sweet, sweet Lynora. I really is you, my darling.” The golden haired woman’s hands were on Lyn’s face, cupping her cheeks. 

“No, I– m’lady, I am just Lyn, I am nothing–“ she tried to explain, offering another low bow to show that she really was sorry for all the confusion, her hands braced in front of her to keep the woman away. 

An elder woman appeared, and something was handed to the fine golden haired lady. “We have been searching for such a long time,” she said, as she admired the beautiful art held in her hand. 

Lyn’s eyes fell on a stretch, fine work, but lightened with age. The face of a babe, made larger than life, she was sure, peppered with black marks across the face. 

Her own black marks.

“No,” Lyn said, pushing it away. “You are mistaken, I am no one–“ 

“My younger brother, Tybolt Lannister, was married to the Lady Sophae Mullendore,” Cinda explained. “Lady Sophae died after giving birth to a babe, the Lady Lynora Lannister, and Tybolt remarried the Lady Tyshara Payne, you see,” the lady tried to rush over the innards, to get to the important parts. “The babe was sent back to live with the Mullendores in the Reach, but…the babe was lost! Until now, I knew that we could find you again. I just knew it.” 

“M’lady…” Lyn said, or perhaps Lynora said.

“You are my family, call me Cinda!” Cinda held onto both of her arms. “And I shall never leave you again.” 

It had been something that Lyn had dreamed of since she was old enough to want, every girl she had ever known had longed and wished for the same thing. Tears etched themselves down her cheeks, as she looked at the sketch of the babe once more, of the sketch of herself. 

“My family?” she asked, her hands wrapped themselves around Cinda’s own. Lyn laughed as she allowed herself to be dragged into a deep hug. 

“You will be Lady to Princess Helaena Targaryen, and you will marry a rich lord, and birth scores and scores of his children!” 

Lyn could hear Adityas cries from somewhere deep inside. She tried to pull away, but was unable to move.

“No, I’m sorry m’lady, I don’t–,” Lyn was not heard. 

“Of course, there is a matter of your virtue. Maester?” Cinda’s arms held her in place, and a man came forward. “Not to say I don’t trust the Septas, but one can never be sure.”

Lyn’s face was cradled once again, against her struggle, Cinda wiped a falling tear down her cheek. “Sweet girl, my girl, my lovely Lynora,” Cinda cooed. 

“You are free now,” the lady nodded, “Free from the burden of want, the need for desire, you thoughts need no longer be just your own, and you can finally rest easy from making every decision by yourself, never again must you worry about what you will eat, or where you will go. By the grace of the gods, your path has been chosen for you. You will be the Lady to Princess Helaena Targaryen, and you will marry a rich lord and have scores and scores of his babes, as is expected of you now. What you want is no longer of consequence.” Cinda embraced her, in her new found freedom. Lyn could hear Aeditya’s screams echoing from somewhere deep inside her. “Now, Maester.”

Aemond stood motionless, his mouth open and his eye wanting to look away, but he did not allow himself. The prince had prided himself for his quickness of thinking in battle, but at this point he was not quite sure what was happening around him.

Cinda had promised him the end to their game, and now the peasant woman who haunted his dreams was being bent over and–

“Stop–“ Aemond called, one stepped forward but nothing more. He couldn’t stop it. How could he? This was Cinda Lannister, on a mission for the Queen, his mother. 

He saw the tears peppering the girl’s eyes as she watched his inaction. Aemond’s eye fell in shame.

He was not sure how long it was before he swallowed his courage and stepped down from his pedestal. Cinda had forgotten the girl and was conversing with the Septas and Maesters about her care, and Lyn was left with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to become small. 

Aemond wrapped his cloak around her, not knowing what else to do. 

“What’s happening?” she asked, taking the cloak into her wringing hands. 

“You are…coming with us,” he answered, after some time. 

“I don’t want to,” she said, as if it was the most well known fact in the world. “Don’t make me, you…you said you were a prince? You were telling true? Don’t let them take me!” 

He hushed her, they couldn’t hear her speak such things. “I can not, she is…” he was a just young boy when he looked at Cinda. “On the mission from the Queen, I can not interfere…”

“You can help me,” Lyn tried to plead. “You– you can help me escape, out the back of the tents…”

“They will find you,” he shook his head. He had found her. Plain as day, in the crowded market. “There is nowhere to go.” 

“You said you have a dragon!” she hissed.

“I do, but–“

Lyn allowed the cloak to fall. She did not wish to speak anymore. She did not wish to stand anymore. She did not wish to wish anymore. 

When she turned, Aemond grabbed her arm to stop her. He didn’t know what to say, he wracked his brain and he could only think of their time at the lake. 

“There was a witness to our…your friend, I could send a message,” he tried to find something that could help her. 

“She’s dead,” Lyn said, as she was whisked away by her new family into her new future.

a/n: don’t worry, Lyn will get plenty of revenge on these rich folks. #eattherich. thanks all for reading! I am so excited to have gotten to the story's "twist"~ I know it's not going to be everyone's favorite, but it's going to be a fun journey and a more relatable perspective to enjoy the ~royal~ highborn life of the red keep. As always, comments, questions, requests, are all open~ Don't hesitate to reach out, I'll gush back at you LOL

tags: @fallout-girl219 (sorry for the double tag, I hated what I posted earlier this week. So, I'm going to chop up all the side quests into their own posts LOL)

[whimsicalpoet44]

Cycle Breaker Placements

Placements I see in charts that indicate someone is here to work through generational trauma and promote healing. These placements can be really tough, but offer a really unique perspective of the world.

They can also reap the most benefits once they work through their lessons.

Biggest indicators are 4th house, 8th house, 12th house, Scorpio, Capricorn, and Aries placements. Also big emphasis on harsh aspects related to Pluto/Mars/Moon/Saturn/Sun. But these are one that stick out to me the most.

✨Pluto in the 12th House. This placement indicates a lot of childhood trauma. When I see someone with this placement, I know they've been through it. I have instant respect for them. Most individuals with this placement don't realize their own inner power. It's hidden in their subconscious underneath years of memories where they were told that they were powerless. They are SO powerful and they don't even realize it. Especially if their Pluto is in Scorpio, but this applies to all 12th House Plutos. Once they recognize their own power, they're literally unstoppable.

✨Chiron in Gemini/3rd House. These individuals have a fear of being seen. They struggle to use their voice and speak their truth. Their path is usually the road less traveled, and it can feel isolating at times. They might have felt like their opinions never mattered in childhood and struggle with a need to be understood. Once they use their voice, they can affect powerful change to those around them.

✨Lilith in Cancer/Lilith 4th House. This placement indicates that the person will be working through generational trauma related to the mother or the maternal side of the family. Emotional needs are likely not met in childhood, which causes the person to have trouble accepting/asking help from others. But they also can't completely help themselves. Nurturing their emotions helps them unlock all the power of Lilith.

✨Saturn Conjunct Moon. Saturn and the Moon have opposing energies. The Moon is nurturing. Saturn is the disciplinarian. Often times, it can also be interpreted to represent the Mother (Moon) and the Father (Saturn). The paternal figure might've been absent or ill. The maternal figure could've been stressed and emotionally reactive. Someone with this aspect basically has to become their own parent. They're forced to learn emotional regulation, self-respect, and self-love. It teaches them that they have value and they likely break a lot of toxic cycles during self-growth.

✨Mars in a fire sign + in the 4th House. Inheriting a parent's reactive nature is likely with this placement. At least this is what I've noticed when I've interpreted charts. Fire signs are quick to act and they are sometimes viewed as impulsive. With a fire Mars in the 4th House, they'll be forced to confront their explosive anger. If not, they can repeat toxic generational cycles. Their parents were likely aggressive and threatened their safety in the home. This is a REALLY tough placement.

✨Chiron in the 5th House. Inner child wounds are prevalent here. The individual's self-expression is limited or repressed, likely due wounds from a parent or caretaker in childhood. They hide the important parts of themselves and have a really hard time being vulnerable with anyone, including themselves. Embracing creativity and accepting themselves is how they heal. In the process, they break negative generational cycles.

✨Capricorn Moon. These individuals had a lot of expectations placed on them in childhood. They might have been forced to step up in their childhood and could've been more of a parent than their actual parents, raising themselves and/or siblings. They're seen as the responsible ones, and might have faded into the background, causing their needs to go unmet. Their caretakers could've put work before play, causing these individuals to adopt the same approach. They must learn how to be vulnerable and experience joy with others.

✨Venus in Scorpio (Bonus points if it's in retrograde). Trauma related to a person's sense of self-worth is common. They might have low self-esteem or struggle to navigate relationships. There's a possibility that your caretakers relationship was volatile, leaving them to be afraid of intimacy (i.e. Divorce). There could be possessiveness or jealousy in romantic relationships as well. Even obsessiveness. Finding a way to balance these energies and re-shape how they define relationships helps. They also undergo the most transformation in romantic relationships.

✨Moon Square Mercury. Emotions were not safe to express in childhood. They might have problems making decisions, constantly warring between their mind and their heart. They could lean onto old belief systems or coping skills, even when they know it doesn't work. After a while, they'll be forced to change their approach on how they deal with their emotions. Thus, breaking toxic cycles learned in childhood.

✨Saturn in the 12th House. Wounds here could be attributed to past life trauma, but it's usually agitated in childhood. These individuals are really hard on themselves and believe they don't deserve anything good in life. There's potential for memory suppression and a tendency to disassociate. Absent paternal figures are common with this placement. When they prioritize their mental health and work towards healing, they break generational curses.

✨Aquarius Placements. These individuals are often tasked with pursuing their own path and deviating from the "norm." Therefore, they struggle with trauma in childhood. They might have been bullied for their unique interests. They could be the family outcast. Whatever it is, they take their own path. They might break familial expectations that had been adhered to for generations. Therefore, breaking the cycle.

✨Pluto in Scorpio. Generationally, this is the one. Being mostly raised by boomer parents, they pulled the rug out from underneath their parents, calling out toxicity. They likely trigger their parents without even trying. They hold up a mirror, highlighting what their parents could've been if they had broken the cycle.

✨Sagittarius Mercury. They can't help it. They word vomit their observations. A lot of the times, it could be done with innocent intention. However, being catalysts for chaos, they open boxes that their families have tried desperately to keep shut. They are brutally honest and care fiercely about discovering the truth. Sometimes, they intentionally cause chaos for change. Letting little bits of information or truth slip, they can have their family in uproar and questioning their entire existence. They're the voice of truth. And their family can't escape it. And they might hate them for it. But they just can't help it. It comes out of their mouth before they have the chance to think about it. (12th House Sag Mercury individuals might have a different presentation/experience of this placement).

✨Pisces Moon/Rising. These individuals can have challenging relationships with their mothers or maternal figures. They typically lack boundaries and experience pretty intense people pleasing behaviors. They're also very different from the rest of their family, usually. They'll be put in situations by the universe to craft their own identity and stand up for themselves. They can be the first to educate themselves on boundaries and actually implement them.

✨8th House Suns. They are often used by the universe for change and upheaval. 8th House Suns don't always have to do something for this to happen. Their very existence can be triggering to others. This is because they are usually showcasing their best qualities by simply being themselves. This causes others to feel insecure, because they begin to recognize the qualities they lack inside of themselves. So, 8th House Suns end up becoming the family scapegoat. If you're an 8th house Sun, just remember that it isn't you. It's someone projecting their own problems onto you. There's power there if you know how to use it.

✨Neptune/Uranus in the 1st House. These individuals often have an air of mystery surrounding them. No one can really figure them out. So they end up having others project their assumptions about their character onto them. This is another placement where their very existence is troubling to others. Because they become a sounding board for others' insecurities.

I'll do more of these later and make this a series!

[luna-naoffcial]

Criminal Love

—PART ONE

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

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

PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

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Author Note: it has been a while since I had this app! Oh god. It will be terrible as I am rusty as hell, but I couldn't help but project this story here. It has been in my drafts since January, and multiple chapters have already been pre written up.I am aware of the mixed opinions of Alastor sexuality and the boundaries of people who are aro/ace being crossed and dislike how, in most stories, he is sexually involved.Unfortunately, this is simply a harmless, made-up fanfiction story where Alastor is only involved with the reader as this is set before. Any negative comments will be simply blocked or ignored.As for you Alastor lover sout here who simply want to sell your soul to him (I see you all on tik tok) then enjoy and if any errors to point out please let me know, otherwise enjoy as this will be a quick time snippet of your time on earth with Alastor before being reunited in hell together Warnings will be applied within the stories for anyone who will be triggered or simply don't like reading smut.Just to clear some bits up if you're new to these kinds of stories. Anyway enjoy!

5 years old

"Wow!" You gasped with wide-open (e/c) as you saw the worm Alastor was holding up. "It's so wiggly!" You giggled and leaned closer to get a better look at the slimy creature. "Isn't it amazing?" The little boy grinned proudly.

You had just moved across the road to the abandoned house with your mom when you noticed the little boy named Alastor digging around in his front garden. From that day forward, the two of you became inseparable playing in the woods and scheduling playdates at each other's homes. Usually, these playdates occurred at yours due to the intimidating presence of Alastor's father, who reminded you of your own. Alastor preferred it that, so he could stay away from his father's drunken state. Your home was a simple bungalow with two bedrooms.Several months have passed since meeting Alastor. You were both engaged in a book in your bedroom. You and Alastor enjoy reading, as it was one of the many things you enjoyed doing together. The Adventures of Pinocchio was both your favourite. However, an unexpected interruption disrupts your time with Alastor, Your mother's voice resonates from the living room, summoning your presence. "(Y/N)?" With a sigh, you got out of your comfortable position on the bed with Alastor following along. Together, you make your way to the living room, where your mother awaits. "Yes, Mother?" You inquire, your voice tinged with curiosity. "I have some important information to share with you, my dear," your mother responds. "Tomorrow marks the first day of school, and it is important that you prepare for bed soon." A wave of disappointment washed over you as you knew this meant less time playing with your new friend. Alastor, who has been homeschooled under the roof of his mother, will not be joining you in this new adventure. You exchange a meaningful glance with Alastor, your eyes reflecting the shared sentiment of sadness. "Don't worry, Al," you exclaim. "We can play everyday after I get home from school!" You said with a cheerful tone. Your mother, a witness to this heartwarming exchange, can not help but chuckle softly, her heart warmed by the genuine bond between the two children."I will allow you both thirty minutes of outdoor playtime." Your mother said. "Thank you, Mother!" You expressed your gratitude and immediately rushed outside with the brunette. "What game shall we play?" You inquired as you travelled the forest path leading to the fields. "Hmm." You perceived Alastor's sudden touch upon your shoulder. "TAG!" he exclaimed as he sprinted away. "That's not fair!" You voiced your objection as you tried catching Alastor around the fields, unable to apprehend him. You eventually succumbed to exhaustion and collapsed onto the overgrown grass, gasping for breath. "Accepting defeat?" Alastor said with a radiant smile. You responded with a huff. "Yes," you mumbled.Alastor chose to lay beside you, as you both directed your attention skyward in silence."(N/N)..." You turned your head to the side, meeting his gaze. "Promise we will stay friends when you go to school?" he said. "Duh!" you responded. "Oh!" You abruptly sat up. "Shall we make an agreement?" you suggested as you picked up a stone. Alastor tilted his head slightly, perplexed by the stone's involvement.

(Blood and conflict of self-harm)

"Let's make a deal of our friendship lasting forever and to always share our deepest and darkest secrets. My secret shall be yours, and yours shall be mine." You took the pointed end of the stone and sliced it through the palm of your left hand, causing it to bleed. Alastor stared wide-eyed at the young girl. "What? It's a blood oath,"you explained cheerfully. "Besides, I read about it in a book somewhere." You shrugged.You passed the stone to Alastor, who gazed at it momentarily before looking into your (E/C) eyes. He perceived the innocence you projected, as if this act were entirely harmless. However, in reality, this was a solemn agreement that would indeed be binding. "Ok... I trust you," Alastor stated as he made a precise incision on his right palm.Alastor grasped your hand, sealing the pact with a handshake that intermingled your blood, symbolizing the fusion of your commitment to him.Not intentionally realizing that you had just made a deal on keeping a dark secret for the future cannablist serial killer of New Orlenas.

(Y/N) - Your name

(N/N) - NickName

(E/C) - Eye Colour

(H/C) - Hair Colour

[sasheneskywalker]

sladick mature fic recs

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

storm thirst by cheju

A quiet confrontation on a stormy night.

-

exactly what it looks like by cheju

Slade keeps going on so-called dates in Dick’s city. Uh huh, sure, he’s going on “dates” with assassins and spies. Not on Dick’s watch, he isn’t.

Five times Dick stops Slade from getting laid. One time he doesn’t.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Now, years later, Deathstroke has planted bombs throughout the city on a job with a ticking clock - they need to know the locations, but Slade isn't talking.

Between the Saids and Unsaids by withthekeyisking

It's been years since Dick Grayson was forced into acting as Slade Wilson's apprentice. Years since he was manipulated, abused, used, and he never told anyone the details.

Dick knows he'll talk to him. He owes him, after all that he did.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson

And now he's bound and drugged kneeling in front of the man, being presented as a gift.

Shifting Grounds by withthekeyisking

The last time Dick saw Deathstroke the Terminator, the mercenary was trying to kill him and his friends.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

He didn't count on spotting Grayson the instant he arrives on site.

Familiar Plays by withthekeyisking

Being hired to hunt down a mole for the latest mafia boss is easy money, in Slade's opinion. Interrogate a few people, track down some leads, hand over the idiot once he finds them to surely be tortured for information.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Swimming in a Sea of Expectations by withthekeyisking

Dick looks down at his blood-covered gloves and has no idea what to do now.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Give Me a Break by Skalidra

Slade's a pretty common fixture in Dick's life, so it's not really a surprise when he hunts down the warehouse of a gang he's tracking and finds that Slade's been hired to protect it for the night. He's also definitely not about to back down just because of that, so he goes in anyway. He's not expecting to beat Slade, but he's not expecting the consequences of trying either, and even though Slade isn't a fan of torture, he'll do a lot as long as he's paid for it.

Not a problem, right?

Strokes of Luck by firefright, Skalidra

When Dick's ship breaks apart in a storm, sending most of his crew to their deaths and stranding him on — of all places — Tortuga, all he really wants is to find a ship headed back to Gotham. Lucky for him, there is one. The Deathstroke, headed by the infamous Captain Slade Wilson, as notoriously ruthless and deadly a pirate as Dick's ever heard of. All he has to do is make the journey without Slade ever finding out he's a Navy officer.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Slade turns his head, clearing the blind spot of his missing eye to find the source of that irritating, all too familiar voice. Black hair, brilliant blue eyes, with the finest, tailored doublet in rich blue and black laced close to his chest. Lean, handsome to an unnaturally perfect degree, and with enough power in his bones to kill anyone in this room, except for him.

Different Schools of Thought by firefright, Skalidra

"What did you do to your hair?"

Probably.

It'd be a hell of a fight.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

He didn’t realize, then, how that meeting would end up changing the rest of his life.

the road less traveled by wingdingery

When Deathstroke’s attack catches the Teen Titans off-guard, Dick finds himself getting help from an unexpected source: Deathstroke’s ex-husband, Slade Wilson.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Adeline Kane Wilson

He does not see it coming, when one of the henchmen in this drug operation turns out to be on some Venom knock-off.

Black Gold Blues by wednesday

The gut punch is what gets him. Dick knows all the ways to tense and relax correctly to take any kind of hit with the least damage to himself, but that only works when he’s prepared, when he sees the hit coming.

Dick gets captured. Then things get worse.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

pressure points by wednesday

“It’s done, nothing for you to do here. Let's go,” Deathstroke says two steps behind him. Like he—like he expects Dick to just go with him. Like he thinks it’s possible to ignore the slaughterhouse right in front of them. Like Dick doesn’t feel the sinking weight of devastation pressing him down, breaking him into pieces.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Running On Empty by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

"Don't even think about it," Slade said without turning his attention away from the road. "I'm not allowed to drug you, but that doesn't mean I won't knock you out again if you don't behave."

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Trespassing by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

Slade deals with a security breach in his Gotham safehouse.

“I didn’t get kidnapped because I’m not a kid,” he said, like that’s what they should be worrying about right now, “I got abducted. You got kidnapped.”

Two Birds, One Stone by Nightwang

“You got kidnapped by Deathstroke?!” Jason asked, incredulous, if rather redundantly. Dick rolled his eyes like Jason was the biggest idiot in the room which- totally wasn’t fair.

For the SladeRobin Weekend prompt Abduction/Kidnapping.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Deathstroke, in full armour barring his helmet, had Dick, naked as the day he was born, pinned to a bed.

Yeah, he love me (but he fucks me like he hates my guts) by Naphorism

Jason lurched to his feet, stomach lurching right along with him, and stumbled around the monitor until he could watch the footage displayed on the Batcomputer’s main screen. His heart practically stopped once his brain understood what his eyes were seeing.

M | Rape/Non-Con | Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

“My terrifying competence,” Slade deadpans. Glaring, he adds, “And my astonishing kill count.”

Inside the Mirror by Naphorism

“Talk about pretty,” Dick comments, still stroking the arch of Slade’s brow. “You call me pretty all the time, but look at you. I’d almost call you cute. How was anyone scared of you?”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

M | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Playing with Uranium by BlameTheMachines

Slade invites Dick into his study for a friendly chat about Rose’s training. It goes poorly.

Dick fought the frown from surfacing. "Stop being an asshole."

Daphne Blue by Alicegivesgifts (Alicelikesgravity)

"Why indeed? I can't seem to remember," Slade made a show of examining the watch on his wrist. "Might have something to do with you being late."

Slade's lips curled upwards in mirth. "Sit down, little bird."

And ignoring every bone in his screaming body, Dick sat down.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson

M | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

I've Got No Shame, Got No Pride (Only Skeletons to Hide) by orphan_account

Jason's not as put out as he wants to appear by having to share a bed with Dick. Slade's very much put out by Jason sharing a bed with Dick. They cope.

[opencommunion]

"Palestine was heralded as ‘a land without a people for a people without a land’, and the Naqab in particular was characterized as a desert in need of technologically advanced (Zionist) pioneers to make it bloom. In actual fact, the estimated 65,000–90,000 Palestinian Arabs populating the Naqab Desert prior to the 1948 war were organized into 95 tribes, and engaged in animal husbandry and seasonal agriculture. Turkish records dating as far back as the sixteenth century show that Palestinian Bedouin owned, cultivated and paid taxes on land; and that cultivation was extensive, particularly in the more fertile, less arid northern and northwestern Naqab. Palestinian Bedouin cultivation in the Naqab was documented by European traveller accounts from the mid- to late-1800s, as well as Zionist explorer accounts from the late 1800s and early 1900s. Reports produced both by British Mandate authorities and the Zionist Movement’s Palestine Land Development Company in the early to mid-1900s indicated that over 2 million dunams were owned and cultivated by Naqab Palestinians. The great majority of Naqab Palestinians held their land under customary Bedouin law. Neither the Ottoman or British Mandate governments ever completed land surveys of the vast Naqab region; however, they both recognized the Naqab Palestinians’ traditional land ownership system, at the collective tribal and individual levels.

... However, prior to the 1948 war, Zionist leaders such as Ben-Gurion denied Naqab Palestinian land ownership, and characterized the Naqab as ‘No Man’s Land. It has no legal owners and anyone who cultivates it with the permission of the government is entitled to become its owner, according to a Turkish law, which still prevails in Palestine’. He rejected the idea of purchasing land in the Naqab, saying to his staff: ‘In the Negev we will not buy land. We will conquer it. You are forgetting that we are at war.’ The 1948 war/Palestinian Nakba (Catastrophe) resulted in large-scale expulsion of Palestinian population, and internal displacement of many who remained in the territory that became the State of Israel. Studies of the internally displaced Palestinians have generally not included the Bedouin Palestinians in the Naqab; aside from noting that the official governmental numbers did not include them, or that a much higher proportion of the population was displaced, as compared to other regions. They, indeed, faced the most extensive displacement and dispossession, with 12 of the 19 tribes that remained in the Israeli state forced to move from their fertile lands in the northwestern Naqab to the infertile, arid region of the Seig. This resulted in nearly two thirds of the communities losing their land, property and possessions. Although Israeli authorities initially told them that the displacement was temporary, and they would be allowed to return to their lands, this never occurred. Instead, an arsenal of laws was enacted and applied throughout Israel to transfer Palestinian owned land to the Israeli state. ... Recently uncovered archives and declassified government documents confirm that the displacement and land acquisition was not coincidental, but occurred according to an orderly, large-scale state plan to expel Palestinian citizens from the northwestern Naqab, with the goal of severing their physical ties to the land, and transferring this land to the possession of the state. Moshe Dayan, who commanded the military operation, wrote: ‘It’s now possible to transfer most of the Bedouin in the vicinity of [Kibbutz] Shoval to areas south of the Hebron-Be’er Sheva road. Doing so will clear around 60,000 dunams in which we can farm and establish communities.’ Although security issues were given as a rationale for the transfer, Dayan also clearly stated: ‘Transferring the Bedouin to new territories will annul their rights as landowners and they will become tenants on government lands.’ The military government carried out the operation using a mix of threats, violence, bribery and fraud; but were careful never to give the displaced Naqab Palestinians written transfer orders, because such an operation for the purpose of land acquisition was illegal. Oral Palestinian histories of threats, violence and arrests were confirmed by archival kibbutz and state records. Although the official government story was that Naqab Palestinians voluntarily left their lands, declassified government records from the time document the ‘Bedouin resistance and protests, the stubbornness with which they tried to hold onto their land, even at the cost of hunger and thirst, not to mention the army’s threats and violence’. Archival kibbutz records also documented the military government’s use of many methods to force the Bedouin to leave their lands, including stopping their food supplies for months."

Ismael Abu-Saad, "Al-Naqab: The Unfinished Zionist Settler-colonial Conquest of its Elusive 'Last Frontier,' and Indigenous Palestinian Bedouin Arab Resistance," in Decolonizing the Study of Palestine: Indigenous Perspectives and Settler Colonialism (2023)

[hivefleet-hellbender]

Out in the desert, no one can find you... (Hex Tiles 1)

A sharp wind whistles through the desert dunes, bringing no reprieve to the travelers following the thin paths left out in the sand. Don't drink from the river — the plants that grow along its shores contain toxins that could leave a grown man coughing up blood, and chemical spills float through the current. A faraway road carries the rare drone-tank, long abandoned from any sort of human use.

My newest hobby, to distract myself on months when the purse is a bit too tight to be buying plastic crack from Games Workshop, is to build modular hex tiles! It's super easy — I pick up a hundred of these wooden MDF tiles from Amazon for $10 (they're advertised as 2", but they're 1.75" from tip to tip, and each side is 1"), grab any spare craft supplies I have lying around, and get to work! They're super quick (this first batch of one hundred took me around a week) and they open the door to a lot of cool experimentation. A lot of this is inspired by the work of u/Marcus_Machiavelli over on Reddit, who makes these fantastic modular hive city components that I hope to someday be able to emulate. 

I'm making these for two purposes, neither of which I've put in practice yet but I'm hoping to get to do at some point. They're for:

Any mass-battle games played at 6mm. This could also work for Adeptus Titanicus or the upcoming Epic reboot that Games Workshop is working on. 

Tactical TTRPGs like Lancer that are played with large beings, who can operate on a 6mm scale.

Once I get some games in with them, I'm sure I'll encounter future problems and reassess how I approach them. But for now, this is what I've got!

I Hate Sand

The first set of tiles I made, to serve as the backdrop for the rest of them, are these sand tiles. I chose to make this a desert (and thus make a bunch of sand tiles) because I already had some sand lying around, and because it's really cheap and easy to work with. Be careful though! Anakin was right; sand sucks. Try and pick up a finer grain than what I went with, apply the sand in a more-controlled location than I did, and secure it better than I did too. But here's how I did them:

Coat the surface of the hex with a mix of PVA glue and water.

Sprinkle on a light dusting of gravel or small rocks.

Apply a thick coat of sand on top of the gravel.

Knock off excess sand and recycle it for next time.

Spray with 1-2 layers of varnish. (I would recommend a sealant instead, but I didn't have any at the time)

For the ones with little paths on them, I painted the path on with White before applying the gravel or sand, and it shows through well enough! The paths are unnecessary — they're a fun experiment, but I don't think I'll be making more of them in the future.

The Gurgling Creek

Making the river tiles was a bit more involved, but still pretty easy. The method I came up with I think looks a lot better than just painting on water, and is a lot easier to work with than resin or water effects. 

Use some kind of texture gel to build up the riverbanks, trying to have them end around 1/4" on the sides of the tiles where you want your river to connect.

Paint a strip Black where you want the river to flow, running from one edge to another.

Apply sand as before, everywhere except where you painted the black. (If you're worried about fucking this up, you can swap the order)

Varnish (or use sealant) as before. 

Take some gloss mod podge and mix it with a light blue paint, and apply in large goopy quantities everywhere you want water to be. Leave overnight to dry. (If you want the river to be less cloudy, apply many thin coats of mod podge instead, letting each layer dry before applying the next)

As an extra, stipple green along the edges of the water and use a dark green wash to create patches of vegetation.

The river pieces are my favorites, and I'm the most proud of them. The tiny bridge was a thin strip of balsa wood, painted white and then washed black. It turned out fine.

I did a solid mix of straight river pieces and curving river pieces. If I was going to do it again I'd make more curving pieces than straight river pieces, because the curving ones make more sense for how rivers work.

The Road To Nowhere

These road tiles turned out really well, perfect for a run-down highway in the middle of nowhere. Here's how I made them:

Take a piece of corkboard and cut it down to be 1.75" long and 1" wide.

Glue it on a hex with the two edges of the corkboard touching two sides of the hex.

Go at the edges with a knife, making it all worn down and busted up.

In some of these spots, I fucked up and glued the corkboard on wrong. To fix that, break off a chunk and reposition it so it'll connect correctly. This will look like a big fat crack in the middle of the road, which is perfect.

Coat in a layer of mod podge or PVA glue. Leave to dry.

Once dry, paint the cork entirely Gray.

Drybrush White onto the corkboard, focusing on the edges and exposed spots.

Paint two thin yellow lines along the middle of the road. (These are optional, but they do a lot to make the 6mm scale convincing)

Apply sand, as before, onto the ground and up the sides of the road, so it looks like the road is emerging from the sand. Maybe apply some sand in a couple spots in the cracks to make it look like the sand has gotten in there.

Varnish and/or sealant, as before.

Apply a Black wash to the road. (There's a lot of tricks here! If you want the yellow stripes to be more vibrant, you can only paint them on after the first black wash. You can also target spots of sand on the road to make it look like it's asphalt runoff, soaking black into the cracks.)

Apply a second Black wash to the road. 

The bridge was a bit more complicated, and took some finicky positioning and a trip to Kung-Fu Tea.

Take a boba tea straw and cut it into 1" segments, then cut them in half, gluing them to the middle of the hex as culverts.

Take corkboard and glue it over the culverts, bending it so it meets the two edges you want the bridge to run along. If it breaks, that's okay — this is a crumbling, middle-of-nowhere bridge.

Use texture gel and spare corkboard to fill in the gaps.

Use texture gel to define the steep edges of the river. Apply a little bit in between the culverts.

Do all the road steps to the road part of the bridge, and all the river steps to the river part of the bridge.

I'm exceedingly proud of the bridge hex. It turned out perfectly, and feels very emblematic of what I want this project to be like.

Why You, Too, Should Make 6mm Terrain

6mm terrain is amazing to make. Mistakes look like part of the landscape or the brain smudges them over due to the small size, and small changes look like fascinating little details. It really opens the imaginative space and I absolutely adore working at this scale. Plus I'm developing a ton of experience with various materials I've never worked with before, so I get to enjoy the triumph of carving foam or corkboard. It rules! I might even try to make a 28mm bridge after the success I had making a 6mm one.

My future plans for this project include cliffs, craters, 3D-printed shantytowns, and overpasses. But all that is for a later date — for now I'm gonna rest on my laurels, and spend the rest of the evening reconfiguring various tile combinations and cackling like a mad scientist.

[illuminatedferret]

A Road Less Traveled (4614 words) by IlluminatingSceadugenga Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Characters: Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Hua Cheng (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Excessive amounts of blood, and basically the negative space of violence, Pre-Relationship, i continue to make hualian meet in the weirdest fucking places Summary: The sky was cloudy the day Xie Lian met the man who would become his husband. - A momentary distraction leads Xie Lian down a blood-stained road. Is this just his misfortune at play, or is this perhaps the start of a brighter future?

-

For @here4hualian's canon divergence week! An old WIP of mine from the vault, repurposed into a one-shot.

[minecraftbookshelf]

Finally have the time and the spoons to come back around and talk a bit more about THIS and also like, staple crops and food-stuffs in general. General warning for another long post that is going to be half infodump and half worldbuilding and they will be all mixed up together.

By (kind of) opening the borders (outside travel in is still pretty limited but that is as much because Rivendell is honestly pretty hard to get to if you can't fly or scale mountains easily as anything else) and expanding international trade Xornoth changed the lives of every single inhabitant of Rivendell wildly for the better. (This would also apply in canon, only there it was Scott, and his closest ally was Katherine or Gem, not Pearl, but the overal point stands.)

Especially by allying so closely with Gilded Helianthia, Xornoth completely changed the way that Rivendell lives, especially during the winter. Prior to the opening of those trade routes, Rivendell relied entirely on what they themselves could produce during their short summer months to last out the winter. Both for themselves and their livestock. (And sometimes it comes down to having to decide whether to feed yourself or your livestock, with the knowledge that if you have to eat all your sheep and chickens to survive the winter you will have nothing to start over with in the spring and the next winter will be even harder but it isn't really even a choice.)

Because Rivendell did grow some wheat, a very sturdy strain bred for the mountains, but the season for it is short and so it's not as much as you would need to sustain an entire people and their livestock through a long southern winter. But you know what does grow in the mountains? Potatoes and carrots!

That's right folks, you heard it here first, lamb stew is a Rivendell staple food.

They would supplement their staple crops by hunting and fishing, but it wasn't always enough. But now...now they have regular shipments of beef and pork and all kinds of grains coming over the nether road and all they have to do is send a steady supply of wool right back. (And that's not even taking into account the humanitarian efforts that get sent between empires in times of crisis.)

After Scott's marriage to Jimmy they also get regular shipments of fish, though its less urgent by that point as, despite the steadily increased harshness of the winters (though that, oddly, seemed to dissipate somewhat when the prince left for the swamp. huh, weird.) they have much more food security from their decades of international trade at that point.

The Swamp itself only fishes on a trade scale, their livestock and crops are mostly household level. They do not eat cod for religious reasons. They do eat other seafood and swamplife as well, mollusks and crawdads and such.

Mezalea is the primary fishing empire, and the source of most internationally traded fish, though the Ocean gets a cut of that due to their treaties. They also grow some of their own staples, and trade for others (fish for wheat)

Pixandria does grow some of their own crops in the oasis but also, like Rivendell, relies both on hunting and trade with Helianthia to sustain the population. They also fish and forage from the sea as well. (It is also worth noting here that Pix does have the ability to summon storms so…that’s relevant)

The Ocean Empire sustains itself with kelp and fish farming. Fish are their livestock. They do also maintain some dry land livestock on a few small islands, but those are mostly reserved for special occasions. They also maintain a steady source of golden carrots. (It is suspected via black market)

The Overgrown is mostly self-sustaining. They trade for delicacies mostly.

The Grimlands, much like Rivendell, have potatoes as a staple crop. They have a surplus of potatoes at all times. Fwhip is like the rural neighbor who made the mistake of planting multiple zucchini plants and will vaguely threaten you into taking some at church. (They are good potatoes though. Even if some of them are a bit...odd and clearly contaminated by redstone runoff. Fwhip: "I eat them all the time, it's fine." Everyone else: *doubt*) They also have an annual salmon run.

Mythland has a free-roaming sheep population that they don't eat for religious reasons. Their staple crop is wheat and their wheat-fields are almost as impressive as Helianthias. They also trade with Rivendell for this purpose.

The Crystal Cliffs have magically insulated greenhouses and fields, allowing them to grow most anything they want even as high in the mountains as they are. They are limited only by space. They have built some of these in Rivendell as part of the treaties and alliance between them.

The Undergrove is currently populated by wolves (who feed themselves) and one (1) gnome. Shrub is very determinedly setting up the area to support whatever survivors they are able to find of their people. A good portion of what she currently is living off of are the mushrooms that she is cultivating and the beginnings of carrot and potato gardens.

The Lost Empire also primarily grows potatoes and carrots, though they also are the source of chocolate, and thus have a very steady trade with most other empires for that very purpose. They also fish from their rivers and lakes.

Gilded Helianthia is the only empire that grows crops in enough surplus for regular, extended trade. Due to their ideal geographical location, they are able to grow most crops and also have steady herds of cows, pigs, and sheep. They also export almost as much honey as Pixandria. They feed both themselves and a good chunk of the other empires as well. (The land is magical)

[polyamships]

This is the fourth of six posts to help expand on the prompts for anyone who needs a little more to go on than just one word. We hope these ideas help inspire people, but they are only a jumping-off point and there will of course be plenty more interpretations we didn’t think of!

—

March 16th - Fiction: This could mean just about anything relating to something that isn't true, or something that isn't true that really should be. It can be about someone creating art or writing a book or a play, or telling stories around a campfire. It could be about fake dating - maybe someone needs to convince someone else that they're in a relationship for some reason, and they find more than one person to help out. Or maybe this could be about something so bizarre that others think it's fiction, but turns out to be true.

March 17th - Comet: Comets are heavenly bodies made of ice and dust that travel through space. Any spacefaring fandom might have seen or had to deal with one orbiting a star, or it may have been seen as a shooting star in the skies. They can be seen as good omens in the sky, or they can be dangerous when they crash and burn on the surface of a planet. This can also be about Comet relationships, a long distance relationship where the partners only meet in person rarely but are happy to pick up their connection at those times and be less intensely in touch in between.

March 18th - Team-up: At its core this is a group of people working together to overcome an obstacle. It could apply to a group of people on opposite sides teaming up to deal with a greater threat and could become the starting point of an enemies-to-lovers story, or a stubborn loner being told by the people who care about them that they don't have to handle something alone. Or perhaps, it's about teaming up to go in help of a partner when something goes wrong, from the mundane to the life-threatening. Maybe it's about something commonly done by teams, like team sports or board games. Whose competitive streak shows first? For something spicy, you can think about teaming up to please a partner and how that goes.

March 19th - Break: Break could mean a vacation - taking a break from what has become routine and going somewhere else, maybe even smaller breaks, like work or study breaks, just a small time off. It can be about breaking bones or skin or an injury of some sort. Someone's voice breaking during a confession or an important moment for the characters. It can be something that happens to a prized possession, a promise, or a bond. It could mean a break-up - or a near-break-up - between a group of people that has to be addressed for the relationship to be rebuilt. Maybe it's about what happens during the break and how they come back to each other to form a stronger relationship. What about breaking a code or breaking laws? Expressions like day break, breaking free or breaking someone's spirit. In certain fandoms, this could mean a break from reality or a break in time, something that alters the lives of the characters forever.

March 20th - Journey: It can be a metaphorical journey or an actual pilgrimage. Nearly any sort of trip could be a journey, from something as simple to a spontaneous visit to the newest coffee shop, to a cross-country adventure. How long does it take? How does it affect them? Do they get sick of each other in cramped spaces or tired and grumpy or lost? Do they meet on a journey or pass each other by regularly that develops into more eventually? It could be characters starting out on their journey or it could be a group at the end thinking about how far they've come. Maybe you can draw the road so far in your characters' relationship and their journey together. Or perhaps you can focus on the emotional journey of one character and how their partners are there for them.

[caitlynmeow]

Would you have any fantasy AU hcs about the Dimitrescu house ?

ohhhh i haven't really thought about a fantasy au but now i think about it i have some ideas!!

ok so! House Dimitrescu is one of the more established Houses in the kingdom. It's an ancient bloodline and continues to reign and grow in wealth and connections.

They have deep familial (thru marriage) with ruling families in their kingdom and outside of it. so in many royal family trees there is a Dimitrescu in there somewhere.

Alcina was married to a man from a noble house. she did it out of necessity, as they needed heirs to carry out the bloodline. it worked fine with her because she has always had a strong maternal instinct and KNEW that she will need to marry a man to fulfill this need. and she did. It wasn't a particularly happy marriage; not a fault on the man's side, she just didn't harbor any romantic feelings towards him. he was kind, however, and he cared a lot of her. she ended up having three daughters in the span of ten years. but after that, she decided that it's enough, as she doesn't feel like having more.

Alcina took great care of her daughters' education. Normally, children get sent to prestigious boarding school to get proper education. But the thought of not having any of her children around for most of the year was unbearable for her. Instead, she hired highly sought out after tutors and teachers, who taught her daughters about different sciences and etiquette.

A few years after Daniela was born, there was a road accident and her husband died. It was less thing on her plate, and she didn't have to play the role of the wife anymore. It gave her freedom, and she can finally go after what she truly desires.

As the three daughters grew, Alcina noticed their differences and thus assigned them different duties.

Bela is her right hand. Her eldest daughter is the one who will manage the family business and take care of things if she isn't there. Bela is very smart, and mostly does as her mother instructs, often craving her praise and approval.

Aside from handling the family business, Bela is very interested in alchemy. when she is free, she often reads about the science, as well as spend time around alchemists in the court. she tries to learn, in order to use that new skill for her family.

Bela is also the family representative. she travels to faraway lands, forming relations with other noble houses and making sure that House Dimitrescu is far spread out and well connected. Her natural wit and charm make her perfect for the job. She is Alcina's eldest daughter and she has a responsibility to uphold.

Aside from that, she spends time around her sisters. They are annoying, for the most part, and they are very troublesome. Because of that, whenever they get in trouble, they always seek her out because they KNOW she can get them out of any mess and her advice is valuable.

Cassandra, being the second born daughter, has different interests. From an early age, she learned how to sneak around and out of the castle. She isn't allowed to, but she often sneaks into forests and wild lands to indulge in her hobby: hunting.

Alcina knew that there is no stopping her daughter, nothing short of locking her up in a tiny cell is going to stop her. Left with no other option, the noblewoman hired an ex-hunter to teach her young daughter the skills she needs. Cassandra absorbed all that knowledge and was eager to apply it. In a short time, her daughter became an adept hunter.

Cassandra's adventures didn't stop there. The daring middle daughter delved deeper into the forest, meeting both fae and witches and venturing into forbidden lands. She saw and touched wyverns, going as far as flying on the back of one with a particular young witch that caught her interest (hence her often sneaking out and heading towards the forest)

Aside from that, Cassandra is the sister who accidentally ends up attracting a lot of attention when there are parties. She doesn't get why it happens, but she doesn't mind the attention she gets from both men and women who are attending these balls. She isn't against having some fun while she's at it, but it's all just-- her fooling around. It isn't just anyone who will weasel their way to her heart, which currently belongs to a certain witch deep in the forest.

Daniela feels that she isn't as good as her sisters. She has different interests, often dreaming of a mysterious lover who would sweep her off of her feet, but no such person exists.

She isn't as smart or dependable as Bela. And she isn't as fierce and strong as Cassandra. She just exists there in the shadow of her older sister not knowing what she can do to change this. Her mother often worries about her, that's why she doesn't tread into forbidden areas like Cassandra does.

She loves masquerades. The atmosphere and the people she meets always fills her excitement and it gives her the sense of doing what she can as she is protected by anonymity. Or so she thought. One night, after a heated moment with a mysterious fair haired young woman, she knew it was time to leave but the words "The night is still young, princess Dimitrescu. You're mother won't leave for a while," Not caring how her identity is identified, Daniela tossed her ornate mask and spent the rest of the night living moments better than those she read in books.