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csuitebitches · 2 months

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The Charisma Myth: things that I liked

Three quick tips to gain an instant charisma boost in conversation:

Lower the intonation of your voice at the end of your sentences. Reduce how quickly and how often you nod.

Pause for two full seconds before you speak.

The very next time you’re in a conversation, try to regularly check whether your mind is fully engaged or whether it is wandering elsewhere (including preparing your next sentence).

Expensive clothing leads us to assume wealth, friendly body language leads us to assume good intentions, a confident posture leads us to assume the person has something to be confident about. In essence, people will tend to accept whatever you project.

when you can project both power and warmth together, you really maximize your personal charisma potential.

charismatic behaviors must originate in your mind. Knowing how to skillfully handle mental discomfort is even more important than knowing how to handle physical discomfort. Anxiety is a serious drawback to charisma. First, it impacts our internal state: quite obviously, it’s hard to be fully present while you’re feeling anxious. Anxiety can also lower our confidence. Anxiety, low presence, and low confidence can show up directly in our body language, as well as reduce our ability to emanate warmth.

The single most effective technique I’ve found to alleviate the discomfort of uncertainty is the responsibility transfer. Pick an entity—God, Fate, the Universe, whatever may best suit your beliefs—that you could imagine as benevolent. Imagine lifting the weight of everything you’re concerned about—this meeting, this interaction, this day—off your shoulders and placing it on the shoulders of whichever entity you’ve chosen. They’re in charge now. Visually lift everything off your shoulders and feel the difference as you are now no longer responsible for the outcome of any of these things. Everything is taken care of. You can sit back, relax, and enjoy whatever good you can find along the way.

Golfer Jack Nicklaus said that he never hit a shot, even during practice, without visualizing it first. For decades, professional athletes have considered visualization an essential tool, often spending hours visualizing their victory, telling their mind just what they want their body to achieve.

“There is good evidence that imagining oneself performing an activity activates parts of the brain that are used in actually performing the activity,” Professor Stephen Kosslyn, director of Stanford’s Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences, wrote me. Visualization can even physically alter the brain structure: repeated experiments have shown that simply imagining yourself playing the piano with sufficient repetition leads to a detectable and measurable change in the motor cortex of the brain.

Silvia recently confided that visualization is one of the secrets to her success. Before key meetings, she’ll imagine “the smiles on their faces because they liked me and they are confident about the value I’m bringing them. I’ll imagine as much detail as I can, even seeing the wrinkles around their eyes as they’re smiling.” She visualizes the whole interaction, all the way through to the firm handshakes that close the meeting, sealing the deal.

A twenty-second hug is enough to send oxytocin coursing through your veins, and that you can achieve the same effect just by imagining the hug. So the next time you’re feeling anxious, you might want to imagine being wrapped up in a great big hug from someone you care about.

Self-confidence is our belief in our ability to do or to learn how to do something.

Self-esteem is how much we approve of or value ourselves. It’s often a comparison-based evaluation (whether measured against other people or against our own internal standards for approval).

Self-compassion is how much warmth we can have for ourselves, especially when we’re going through a difficult experience.

It’s quite possible for people to have high self-confidence but low self-esteem and very low self-compassion.

Types of charisma:

Focus: Focus charisma requires, of course, the ability to focus and be truly present. Good listening skills are nonnegotiable, as is a certain degree of patience. To develop focus charisma, cultivate your ability to be present.

Visionary charisma makes others feel inspired; it makes us believe. It can be remarkably effective even though it won’t necessarily make people like you. We assess visionary charisma primarily through demeanor, which includes body language and behavior. Due to the fact that people tend to accept whatever you project, if you seem inspired, they will assume you have something to be inspired about.

kindness charisma comes entirely from body language—specifically your face, and even more specifically your eyes. Kindness charisma is primarily based on warmth. It connects with people’s hearts, and makes them feel welcomed, cherished, embraced, and, most of all, completely accepted.

Authority charisma is primarily based on a perception of power: the belief that this person has the power to affect our world. We evaluate someone’s authority charisma through four indicators: body language, appearance, title, and the reactions of others. you’ll need to learn how to “take up space” with your posture, reduce nonverbal reassurances (such as excessive nodding), and avoid fidgeting. You may need to speak less, to speak more slowly, to know how and when to pause your sentences, or how to modulate your intonation. Look expensive.

Avoid holding a drink in your right hand, especially if it’s a cold drink, as the condensation will make your hand feel cold and clammy. Before shaking someone’s hand, whether you are a man or a woman, rise if you’re seated. And keep your hands out of your pockets: visible hands make you look more open and honest. Make sure to use plenty of eye contact, and smile warmly but briefly: too much smiling could make you appear overeager. Keep your head straight, without tilting it in any way, and face the person.

Ask people open ended questions, focus on questions that will likely elicit positive emotions. With your questions, you have the power to lead the conversation in the direction you want. In fact, even when you’re speaking, the one word that should pop up most often in your conversation is not I but you. Instead of saying “I read a great article on that subject in the New York Times,” try “You might enjoy the recent New York Times article on the subject.” Or simply insert “You know...” before any sentence to make them instantly perk up and pay attention.

Another way to exit a conversation with grace is to offer something of value:

Information: an article, book, or Web site you think might be of use to them A connection: someone they ought to meet whom you know and can introduce them to

Visibility: an organization you belong to, where you could invite them to speak

Recognition: an award you think they should be nominated for

When someone has spoken, see if you can let your facial expression react first, showing that you’re absorbing what they’ve just said and giving their brilliant statement the consideration it deserves. Only then, after about two seconds, do you answer. The sequence goes like this:

They finish their sentence

Your face absorbs

Your face reacts

Then, and only then, you answer

The next time you’re given a compliment, the following steps will help you skillfully handle the moment:

1. Stop.

2. Absorb the compliment.

3. Let that second of absorption show on your face. Show the person that they’ve had an impact.

4. Thank them. Saying “Thank you very much�� is enough, but you can take it a step further by thanking them for their thoughtfulness or telling them that they’ve made your day.

It’s not just metaphors that can paint the wrong picture. Some common phrases can have the same effect. When you tell someone, “No problem,” “Don’t worry,” or “Don’t hesitate to call,” for example, there’s a chance their brain will remember “problem,” “worry,” or “hesitate” instead of your desire to support them. To counter this negative effect, use phrases like “We’ll take care of it” or “Please feel free to call anytime.”

You can deliver value to others in multiple ways:

Entertainment: Make your e-mail or meeting enjoyable.

Information: Give interesting or informative content that they can use.

Good feelings: Find ways to make them feel important or good about themselves.

The longer you speak, the higher the price you’re making them pay, so the higher the value ought to be.

If your goal is to communicate power, set the pitch, tone, volume, and tempo of your voice in the following ways:

Pitch and tone: The lower, more resonant, and more baritone your voice, the more impact it will have.

Volume: One of the first things an actor learns to do on stage is to project his voice, which means gaining the ability to modulate its volume and aim it in such a targeted way that specific portions of the audience can hear it, even from afar. One classic exercise to hone your projection skills is to imagine that your words are arrows. As you speak, aim them at different groups of listeners.

Tempo: A slow, measured tempo with frequent pauses conveys confidence.

To emanate vocal warmth, you need to do only one thing: smile, or even just imagine smiling.

Charismatic people are known to be more “contagious”; they have a strong ability to transmit their emotions to others.

The most effective and credible compliments are those that are both personal and specific. For instance, instead of “Great job,” you could say, “You did a great job,” or, better yet, “The way you kept your calm when that client became obnoxious was impressive.”

Here’s one specific—and surprisingly effective—recommendation for phone charisma, courtesy of author Leil Lowndes: Do not answer the phone in a warm or friendly manner. Instead, answer crisply and professionally. Then, only after you hear who is calling, let warmth or even enthusiasm pour forth in your voice. This simple technique is an easy and effective way to make people feel special. I recommend it to all my business clients whose companies have a strong customer service component. The gains in customer satisfaction are impressive.

Charisma takes practice. Steve Jobs, who appeared so masterful on stage, was known to rehearse important presentations relentlessly.

Retain at least a certain measure of equanimity. Most charismatic leaders are known for their ability to remain (or appear) calm even in the midst of turbulent circumstances.

#Book review #charisma #challenge #c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #productivity #that girl #balance #getting your life together #personal growth #strong women

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16woodsequ · 5 months

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Things People Seem to Forget About Steve Rogers (aka the past is complex)

Things in the future didn't happen in a vacuum, and while Steve missed a lot of stuff while he was in the ice, he would have seen the roots of things like the Civil Rights, Women's Rights and even LGBTQ+ Rights movements in his time.

While I'm sure Steve encountered a lot of people expecting certain right-wing behaviours from him, due to his birth year and the things he missed in the ice, this doesn't mean he would act that way—even right out of the ice.

But first lets take a look at the things Steve missed and see what he did in fact know:

The atom bomb. Steve never saw the atomic fallout, but what did he see? Hydra bombs literally being flown to his home city. There is also a possibility that as a specialty team, he learned about the German Nuclear Program during the war. His unit was tied to the Strategic Science Reserve, so I wouldn't be surprised if between that, and Hydra's bomb initiatives, Steve was well aware of the potential of a bomb threat. I doubt Steve has clearance to know about the Manhattan project, and I think he would be horrified to learn about the impact of the atom bomb on Japan (especially since he essentially thwarted the same thing from happening to New York) but majorly powerful bombs would not surprise him.

• The Cold War. Steve may not have experience the Cold War, but he grew up surrounded by the outcome of the First World War after the Communist take over of Russia. The debates surrounding Communism, Socialism, and Capitalism aren't new. Steve would have grown up with them and would probably be familiar with American pro-capitalist, anti-communist rhetoric. But would he agree?

Here's some things we know about Steve: He's an artist, he grew up during the Depression which was heavily mitigated by socialist measures, he grew up poor, he grew up disabled. As an artist Steve would be well aware of the debates between the political movements, and with his background, and the success of Roosevelt's New Deal reforms, it would not surprise me if Steve leaned more towards the Socialist side of the scale.

All this to say: Steve would not be unfamiliar with the tension between Russia and the USA. Especially since even though they were allies during the war, there were already concerns that the USSR wasn't so much 'liberating' the countries they drove Germany out of, as putting them under new management.

Steve would be familiar with the tensions underlying the Cold War, and his background might lead him to have a critical view of some of the pro-Capitalist propaganda that came out during the Cold War. While I don't think Steve would approve of Russia's methods and the ultimate outcome of Communism there, I don't think he would approve of the Red Scare Witch Hunt that happened in the States either.

• Civil Rights Movement. While Steve missed the major changes that occurred during the 50s and 60s, he would not be unfamiliar with movements for equality. Steve would also not be unaware of the inequality that minorities faced in his country.

For example:

National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) was established in 1909 and is still run today. The NAACP fought and fights against discrimination and advocates for equality.

In the 30s President Roosevelt responded to "to charges that many blacks were the "last hired and first fired," [his administration] instituted changes that enabled people of all races to obtain needed job training and employment. These programs brought public works employment opportunities to African Americans, especially in the North" (Link)

"The first precedent-setting local and state level court cases to desegregate Mexican and African American schooling were decided during [the late 1930s]" (Link)

In 1941 thousands of Black Americans threatened to march on Washington for equal employments rights which pushed Roosevelt to issue an executive order that "opened national defense jobs and other government jobs to all Americans regardless of race, creed, color or national origin." (Link)

The Double Victory or Double V Campaign during the war was an explicit campaign to win the war against fascism in Europe and the war against racism as home.

All this to say, Steve would not be unfamiliar with many of the issues tackled during the Civil Rights Movement of the 50s and 60s.

Not only that, but Steve led a multi-racial special unit during the war during a time of active army segregation. Not only does he have a Black man on his team, but also a Japanese man. This would have most definitely led to backlash from higher command as well as discrimination from other units against Jones and Morita. Steve and the entire Howling Commandos would be explicitly aware of prejudice against two of their members and likely had to fight for them many times.

• Anything space travel. It's true Steve wouldn't know anything about attempts to reach the moon. But there were still several space discoveries he could know about, especially since he and Bucky are clearly interested in scientific discoveries, considering how they went to the Stark Exbo before Bucky shipped out.

Some discoveries:

Hubble's Law: In 1929 Hubble published evidence for an ever expanding universe, and thus provided evidence of the Big Bang theory.

1930: Discovery of Pluto (makes me chuckle to think this is a relatively new discovery for Steve and he wakes up to find it is a dwarf-planet now. You think Millennials are protective of Pluto? I think Steve would be too 😆.)

1937: "the first intimation that most matter in the universe is `dark matter'"

Personally I think Steve would be absolutely amazed by the advances in space travel.

• Women's Rights. Like with Civil Rights, while Steve may have missed the large movements during the 50s and 60s, he was around for the early movements. The 60s movement is called Second Wave Feminism for a reason. This is because there was already many pushes for women equality in Steve's time.

For example:

1920: White women win the right to vote. This means Steve's mother first voted in his lifetime. I feel this alone would make Steve heavily aware of inequality faced by women. (As a side note I feel that Sarah always emphasized voting to Steve since it was such a major development in her lifetime.)

Also in the 20s the Flapper trend rose, along with hemlines. Women's skirts were shorter and they smoked and drank with men. Middle-class and working-class women also worked outside of the home. The 1920s-1930s 'modern' woman is very different from the Victorian vision of a woman in petticoats and skirts.

Early Birth Control movement: Was "initiated by a public health nurse, Margaret Sanger, just as the suffrage drive was nearing its victory. The idea of woman’s right to control her own body, and especially to control her own reproduction and sexuality, added a visionary new dimension to the ideas of women’s emancipation. This movement not only endorsed educating women about existing birth control methods. It also spread the conviction that meaningful freedom for modern women meant they must be able to decide for themselves whether they would become mothers, and when."

1936: A Supreme Court decision declassified birth control information as obscene. Legalised doctor-prescribed contraceptives.

WW2 Watershed: Women serve in the army and work factory jobs. The government establishes universal childcare while women work.

Women also wore pants and form fitting clothes to work in factories. We also see Peggy wearing pants during the last assault on Hydra. While Steve may need to get used to modern fashion, he would already be familiar with the 'morale outrage' over women's clothes in his time, and probably try to manage his surprise in private as well as possible.

• LGBTQ+ Rights. Like with the rest of the equality movements, LGBTQ+ rights movements also started before the late 1900s.

1924: "Society for Human Rights is founded by Henry Gerber in Chicago. The society is the first gay rights organization as well as the oldest documented in America." This organisation was broken up soon after founding due to arrests, but it published "the first American publication for homosexuals, Friendship and Freedom."

In the 1920s and 30s "the gay and lesbian movement started taking shape. Social analysts began rejecting prior medical definitions of "inversion" or "homosexuality" as deviant.

Communities of men and women with same-sex affiliations began to grow in urban areas. Their right to gather in public places such as bars was tenuous, and police raids and harassment were common." (Link)

WW2 Watershed: While many LGBTQ people lived in rural areas or outside 'queer neighbourhoods' the war brought people from all backgrounds together. "As with most young soldiers, many had never left their homes before, and the war provided them an opportunity to find community, camaraderie, and, in some cases, first loves. These new friendships gave gay and lesbian GIs refuge from the hostility that surrounded them and allowed for a distinct subculture to develop within the military."

They still had to hide their identities for fear of persecution and a 'blue discharge', however "Gay and lesbian veterans of World War II became some of the first to fight military discrimination and blue discharges in the years following the war."

It's unclear how much Steve would have known about the gay and lesbian rights movement. But in the comics he has a gay friend Arnie Roth, and there are many meta posts (X X X) about how Steve may have lived in a queer neighbourhood.

And, according to my history professor, gay and lesbian soldiers were often protected by their friends in the army instead of outed. This is not to downplay the discrimination and pain outed veterans faced, but there was a comaraderie and understanding that developed between soldiers that protected many gay soldiers.

• Computer and the internet. The seeds of modern computers began during World War Two. Arguably it began earlier with Ada Lovelace. While technology has changed a lot for Steve, there is a long history of it's development.

Colossus Computer: Kept secret until the 70s, it's unclear if Steve's association with the SSR, Peggy (who was a code breaker before SSR) and Howard, would have led him to know anything about the "the world's first programmable, electronic, digital computer", but we see electric screens and machines being used in Captain America: The First Avenger. So he would know something of those mechanisms.

Also the first American TV was broadcasted in the 1939 World Fair, And since Steve and Bucky are already shown going to a science fair, I believe it is reasonable for Steve to know about the concept of television, though it looks much different in modern day.

• Rise of Neo-Nazis. Steve already saw the rise of fascism in his own country before the war, so while I think he would be horrified and saddened to learn of the Neo-Nazi movement, I don't think he would be surprised.

Because:

Eugenics: A large part of the Nazi campaign, this part of the movement originated and was inspired by the United States Eugenics movement. "It is important to appreciate that within the U.S. and European scientific communities these ideas were not fringe but widely held and taught in universities."

Lobotomies and institutionalisations were part of the treatments for disabled and 'weak-minded' individuals during Steve's time. With Sarah being a nurse it is likely Steve knew of these treatments and more. And as a disabled child of immigrants, I have no doubts Steve brushed up with eugenics beliefs many times.

1939: More than 20,000 people attended a Nazi rally in Madison Square while "[a]bout 100,000 anti-Nazi protesters gathered around the arena in protest".

In the comics Steve canonically has a Jewish friend, Arnie Roth. If he wasn't part of the protests against the Nazi rally, he would have heard about it and known about the rise of antisemitic sentiment in the US before the outbreak of the war.

So Where Does That Leave Us?

Steve has a history of anti-racist behaviour. While he would still have a lot to learn from the Civil Rights Movement and no doubt has unconscious biases he grew up with, he also explicitly builds a multi-racial team that would have led to clashes with systemic racism in the army. This would have inevitably led to him and the Howling Commandos taking an anti-racist stance in protection of their members.

Would Steve say the N-word? Likely not. The N-Word already held negative connotations by the 19th and early-20th century. I doubt Jones would be willing to follow a man who would knowing use the insult. 'Coloured' or 'Negro' were seen as the more acceptable terms. So Steve may use those words at first, instead of 'Black' or 'African-American'. 'Negro' is a controversial term for some Black Americans, so this would be something for him to learn, but he would not purposely by insulting or hurtful. And I believe he would adapt as quickly as possible upon learning.

Steve saw the early steps of many social movements. Given what we know about Steve—artist, disabled, immigrant, poor, raised by a single mom, gay and Jewish friend, potentially lived around queer people, worked with Peggy and smiled when she punched a sexiest, and built a multi-racial team—Steve would not only be aware of the social movements of his time, but he would be happy to learn of the developments after he went into the ice.

While it would take some time for him to learn all the changes that happened, Steve's background would led him to be pleased with the changes in society. This is the opposite of being racist, sexist, and homophobic. Some things might take some adjusting for Steve to get used to, but he is already open-minded and has a frame of reference for many of the social changes that happened.

People sometimes bring up Steve's Catholic upbringing to argue about some beliefs he might have. But while I do think this upbringing would lead to some biases, I think Steve's life experience helped counter, or helped him unlearn some of those biases, even before he hit the ice.

Also, as an Irish-Catholic, Steve would have faced some discrimination of his own. It is most certainly not on the same level as other minorities, and things were better in the 20th century. Being very clear, any discrimination Steve faced for being Irish-Catholic would not be systemic or commonplace like racism. But adding his heritage to the rest of Steve's background helps give us a better idea of why he was already open to social movements like the Civil Rights movement before the ice. And it may have made him already more understanding of LGBTQ+ people, who he may have lived around, even if he grew up being taught certain biases.

Other Things We Forget About Steve

He is quite tech-savvy. While Steve would have a lot to learn, we know he is capable. There are a lot of jokes about his technical know-how in Avengers, but I think he's actually managing very well considering it's probably only been a few weeks or months since he came out of the ice.

Examples:

Deleted scene where we see Steve using a laptop in his apartment. He presses the spacebar to pause a video, which is a keyboard shortcut. So not only can he set up a laptop to watch a video, but he already knows key shortcuts.

Deleted scene where waitress mentions 'wireless'. Steve is confused and thinks she means radio. But I think he actually knows about wi-fi at this point, but probably had never heard it referred to as 'wireless' before. By this point he knows radio is not as common, so his real confusion is why the waitress is offering him 'free radio'. If she had said free wi-fi (the more typical phrase in my opinion) I think he would have understood.

Canon scene of Steve helping Tony fix the Helicarrier engines. This is my favourite evidence because Tony asks Steve to look at the relays and Steve makes a quip that they 'seem to run on some sort of electricity' indicating he is out of his depth. But we never see Tony tell Steve what to do. Steve figures out how to fix the relays himself. Tony is busy with the debris in the rotors and the next thing we see is Steve telling Tony the relays are all good.

Steve is much better at adapting and figuring out technology than we give him credit for. This doesn't mean he won't be anxious or uncomfortable with the sheer amount of stuff he has to learn (especially if everyone keeps making jokes about it to him). But by 2014, it's clear he's already mastered all of it, which is amazing when you think about it, because that's only two years of learning.

Steve is very book smart. In the comics Steve goes to art college, implying he finished high school. Even if he did drop out of high school to work, we know Steve is very smart.

We see him unloading a whole suitcase of books in the barracks before he got the serum.

The mental math is must take to throw the shield at the right angles for it to bounce back is insane.

Steve is also known as a master tactician. So it is clear he has the brains and smarts to run his team during the war. Not only that, but he is not just Captain in name. He actually has that rank, which means he passed the Captain's exam. I also have a feeling he would have needed to pass some kind of evaluation to get the serum in the first place.

We see in Steve's 2014 apartment that his bookshelves are full of history books. Steve is a veracious reader and spends a lot of his time catching up on what he missed. Things he didn't learn or were taught differently growing up would definitely exist, but Steve is actively working to counter that.

Steve would swear. Swearing has been a constant throughout all of history. So too, the backlash against profanity. Even if Steve grew up being told not to swear he would have heard it. And, Steve became a soldier. If he didn't swear before the war, he most definitely picked up some of it then.

I think Captain America isn't supposed to swear, and I think Steve would be aware of this perception of the symbol of him. But I think when Steve is comfortable with people, he would swear. We see in Avengers he doesn't swear, but in Avengers: Age of Ultron, he does.

We joke about Steve and the "Language" line, but I think that line has something to do with Steve's history of being perceived as a symbol and as Captain America since he said it 'just slipped out'. So, while Steve may have been encouraged not to swear growing up, and expected not to swear as Captain America, I fully believe that soldier, veteran, and Irish man Steve Rogers does swear.

Wrap up

I hope you liked this deep dive into Steve's history and character.

I think it can be easy to take the past as a lump sum and view everyone in the past through one lens. We know the past was racist, sexist, and homophobic, so we view everyone from the past that way.

And while it's true things were different back then, people were most definitely fighting for change and aware of the issues. There is also a lot of nuance to the past, and a lot that can be gleaned from what we know about Steve.

It's true that Steve would have a lot to learn when it comes to terminology and specific technology, but I believe Steve's background would prepare him for a lot of the social changes that happened after he went into the ice.

#steve rogers #meta #deep dive #long post #captain america #historically accurate #research #sources cited #early 20th century #20th century history #20th century #social movements #marvel #mcu #please don't tag the other post #no drama please #iykyk #historically accurate steve rogers

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nanowrimo · 4 months

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Smash Your Word Count Goals in 3 Easy Steps

from our sponsors at Freewrite

Here at Freewrite, we help writers reach peak productivity in order to meet word count goals and create their best work yet. That’s our reason for being.

Today, we’re going to share the three easy steps proven by science to help you reach your writing goals!

1) Set A Goal & Write It Down

The psychology of goal setting is pretty clear. It’s what NaNoWriMo is all about, right? Research has proven that people who set goals experience higher motivation and are more likely to feel accomplished.

However, the type of goal you set makes a big difference to your efforts. Make sure that your goals are (a) clear and specific, (b) realistic, and (c) measurable.

Being clear about your goal will help you hone in on what you’re trying to achieve and ignore distractions. Make sure to write it down, as well. Research by psychologist Gail Matthews has revealed that people who write down goals are 33% more successful than those who simply set a goal in their head.

Next, be realistic. This means being honest with yourself about what you can and can’t achieve based on your other life obligations. Setting goals that you can’t achieve will only lead to frustration and, ultimately, a lack of motivation.

And last, make sure each goal is measurable. “Write 1,000 words each day” is much easier to measure than “Finish this book.” Because we all know it’s difficult to measure a book being “done”!

Breaking these goals down into smaller, simpler steps will help, too. If your goal is to write 20,000 words during Camp NaNo, break that down into 5,000 words a week, and then figure out how many words you’ll have to write each day to reach those smaller goals.

2) Practice Freewriting

Freewriting is thinking. It’s as simple — and as difficult — as that.

While every writer is unique, and there is no one way to be a writer, there are similarities we all share as humans — especially humans in the modern world — that create common obstacles to doing the things we love — like reading, writing, and yes, thinking. There are the obvious external obstacles: social media, email, the internet. But there are sneaky internal obstacles, too — the main culprit being the inner critic.

As humans, we are judgmental. It’s in our DNA. Our brains are constantly assessing situations, imagining outcomes, and making decisions. It’s part of survival at a very basic level. However, that means that when we do anything, including writing, we tend to automatically assess our actions — judging our own words, tweaking and editing them as we go along. That constant evaluation not only hinders progress, it can also stop us from ever getting started. And if we do manage to sit down to write, that inner critic creates an unconscious anxiety that prevents us from experimenting and writing down our most innovative and creative — and weird! — ideas.

We’ve all heard the advice to “write now, edit later.” Or perhaps you’ve heard writers reference “the sloppy/crappy/messy first draft.” Those are just fun ways of referencing the writing method in which you separate the drafting process from the editing process. Or, what we call freewriting.

Many people haven’t written this freely since childhood, but there’s a reason this method is taught in MFA programs. Getting your thoughts down first and revising later increases productivity and yields better, more creative work because it allows you to give your brain fully to each task. It means that when you’re drafting, you’re drafting, and when you’re editing, you’re editing. There’s no context-switching or multitasking.

So, what if you gave yourself permission to write badly at first? And we don’t just mean cheesy or with glaring plot holes — we mean typos, missing words, character names replaced by big Xs because you couldn’t remember them in the moment.

The next time you draft, we challenge you to give it a try. Just let yourself go and give your thoughts and feelings over to the act of creating. Because that’s when the magic happens.

3) Track Your Stats

OK, you’ve set measurable goals, and you’ve started drafting. What’s next?

Track your efforts!

Here at Freewrite, we’ve created a tool to automatically track important writing stats, like word count, writing days, writing streak, and more! It’s called a Postbox Profile, and it gives you a unique URL that allows you to share your stats with writing friends.

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#nanowrimo #writing #sponsored #ad #freewriting #writing goals #word count #Freewrite

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shadowshrike · 6 months

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Interfering with Halsin's Portal

It's pretty well known that there are a few situations you can get in where Halsin is well and truly angry rather than disappointed or worried, but I don't think a lot of folks know one of those situations is if you mess with his portal to the Shadowfell. It's a heartwrenching bit of acting. It's also fundamental to the plot of my in-progress fic Girdled Roots, so I figured I might share it with the other Halsin-lovers out there who have never seen it.

EDIT: Please be aware this is datamined dialog and may not be visible in game. It appears to be intended to trigger if the player attempts to enter the portal, which I don't believe is possible in the final game, or at least I couldn't find a way in the most recent version. Sharing this is simply to enjoy the incredible acting and get some plot bunnies moving, not to make any commentary about the game's canon.

Halsin's Initial Reaction

Halsin: No! Stop! Halsin: It's gone... that was our one chance. You've doomed this place to darkness! Halsin: I warned you - told you this was my burden to carry. Why didn't you listen?

The pure rage and despair is visceral. Prior to this, Halsin mentions this portal has been a century in the making, but he's so calm and measured (even upon success) that it is easy to dismiss just how much agony has plagued him as he hoped to make things right. This chance is everything to him. It has guided his every action for a century. It is a hundred years of work, prayer, and guilt to rectify the horrific fate of both land and people that came to nothing because a stranger he trusted refused to listen to him.

The portal breaking is the only time we hear Halsin speak the truth of its importance to him without a hint of emotional regulation. He is wild with pain. This man who is always thoughtful and slow to anger in the face of horror with the wisdom of age and suffering to guide him has become too overwhelmed to show any kindness.

Player response

The player is given several different ways to respond, and Halsin's reaction varies a surprising amount depending on how understandable their reason is. In most cases, he states that he needs to be alone afterward.

Option 1: I'm sorry - I acted on instinct. Halsin: Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone.

You can hear the ache in Halsin's voice, but he's somewhat understanding of this response. He projects more sadness than unchecked rage. The player has admitted to making a mistake, and Halsin isn't the type of person who hold onto vengeance when an apology has been made, but he's not naive or people-pleasing enough to say "it's okay" or offer comfort either. The safest thing for everyone is for him to step away to grieve when there is nothing more to be done.

Option 2: I did all the work here - I couldn't just let you take the glory. Halsin: Glory?! There's no glory here. Now there's nothing here - only shadows and the total absence of hope. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Pure fury radiates from Halsin's response if the player focuses on the idea of being some grand hero rather than actually caring for the outcome. What the player did was an unforgiveable act, dooming everything that Halsin holds dear, and you have the audacity to complain about not getting glory from it. Again, he steps away, but this feels more like he's doing it because he believes you're worthless to reason with rather than because he needs a moment.

Option 3: I saved your grove - I figured it'd be best if I handled this as well. Halsin: We were this close to healing these lands. Now your arrogance has torn open the wounds once more. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Halsin is still frustrated with this response and unmistakably angry, but it's significantly toned down from the idea of wanting to go through the portal for glory. More like he thinks you're a self-important idiot than a truly terrible person.

Specialized player responses

There are also three special responses you can give if you have a particular class or diety.

Druid: I thought my powers were equal to yours. Halsin: It wasn't just power this needed - it was wisdom, understanding. I suffered along with this place for years trying to understand the curse... and it seems I will continue to do so. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Interestingly, he responds much more intensely to a druid than some of the other player choices. It might be in part because he feels like a druid should know better. He lectures the player like an Archdruid would initiates in his Grove, alternating between angry and explanatory, trying to get the player to understand why they were wrong and the sheer magnitude of their error. He ultimately ends in a much more resigned place here rather than personally resentful. Like a father-figure being forced through further life trials because of a child's foolish indiscretion. Frustrating, but inevitable.

Selunite: I trusted in Selûne to guide me through the shadows. Halsin: My friend - I wish you had trusted in me.

This is probably Halsin's most simple response with the least vitriol. He fully understands this answer, even if he's disappointed by it. The fact he calls the player 'friend' suggests a certain tired acceptance of this being a natural behavior for a Selunite trying to do good. We don't see this calm in other responses where Halsin was surprised by the player's choice.

Sharran: The Shadowfell is no place for non-believers - I couldn't allow you to soil it. Halsin: I should never have trusted an ally of the Dark Lady.

If you've ever taken Halsin along with Shadowheart in Act 2, then you know he is absolutely scathing toward her and her faith. He likely isn't as angry if a Sharran breaks the portal because it is utterly predictable. It merely confirms a truth he already knew and talked himself out of. That Sharrans cannot be fully trusted in matters of their goddess, even if one was good enough to rescue his people from the goblins.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

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valyrfia · 6 months

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I think the "Charles are washed, Carlos will fight for the WDC" arguments that I see here and on twitter are indicative of a wider crisis that's happening in general media AND scientific literacy right now which is that people want to take easy facts at face value, and refuse to listen to or understand the context behind it.

Charles is not washed and Carlos will not fight for the WDC. These two facts are pretty clear, but to understand they require a person to go beyond the Instagram graphic of a race win and actually examine the contexts in which Carlos won, and the wider separate contexts of Charles and Carlos's recent careers. Carlos is less consistent that Charles on all fronts, and the reason why Charles is not a WDC yet has nothing to do with his mindset nor a lack of talent, but rather a complete mismanagement masterclass by Mattia Binotto who was Ferrari team principal for four years of Charles's career, and whose influence was still felt in Ferrari until the end of last year and will continue until Carlos leaves at the end of this year. These are not "excuses", these are vital data to take into account when trying to predict an outcome. I have a STEM background, and the first thing that is drilled into you for all laboratory experiments is to always provide environmental context for your set-up, as anything not accounted for will skew your results. A pretty famous one in physics is scientists supposedly measuring faster than light travel (which is impossible via our current understanding of physics), going on to publish and record their findings, before finding out that a loose cable accounted for the time deficit and their measurements returned to being slower than light once the cable was fixed. Similar principle applies to the Ferrari F1 team at the moment, Carlos only appears faster than Charles if you don't consider all factors that could produce a result like this. Once you do, it becomes clear that a lot of the sensationalism surrounding Carlos at the moment is simply untrue.

Context is vital, ESPECIALLY in a sport like F1 where team management, engineering, and the interplay of both with a driver are absolutely crucial factors to success and its a real problem that current F1 journalism (cough cough Sky Sports) more often than not refuses to provide it, in most cases seemingly because they can't be bothered and it makes their jobs and lives easier to run a sensationalist headline that people will spend less time trying to dissect and understand.

#particularly disappointed in leviathans of f1 journalism refusing to do their jobs in exploring and explaining all facets of this sport #carlos sainz is simply not charles leclerc and this current attempt to sensationalise him as such will only end in humiliation for him #charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 #f1 essays

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grey-sorcery · 3 months

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[Title]: Magical Potency: Improving the Efficacy of Magic

Suggested Reading

Finding Balance Threshold Theory Correspondences Conceptualization Vs. Visualization Visualization: Effective Implementation Basics of Energy Work Basics of Spellcasting Spell Logs Intro to Gnosis Bias in Witchcraft The Subtle Body Axioms of Energy Work The Wellsource Energy Work & Spoon Theory Shadow Work: First Steps Intro to Grounding

Introduction

Magical potency refers to the efficacy and strength with which a spell is executed. This encompasses the accuracy with which the ritual is performed, the precision of the elements involved, and the intensity of focus and energy channeled into the endeavor. In simpler terms, it's about increasing the likelihood of a spell's success, assuming all other requisite and advantageous factors are adequately addressed.

The significance of magical potency cannot be overstated. For practitioners, the objective is not merely to perform rituals but to execute them in a way that yields measurable results. In the same manner that a scientist would aim for exactness and reliability in an experiment, a magical practitioner should aim for a high degree of potency in their workings. Achieving this standard is more than a matter of personal pride or skill; it is about the responsible wielding of one's abilities to bring about change. When potency is elevated, the outcomes are more predictable, thereby enhancing the reliability of the magical practice as a whole. Moreover, it minimizes the risk of unintended consequences, which can range from inconsequential to potentially hazardous.

The Magical Potency of a Vast Majority of Publications, From Tumblr to Books

Candle Magic

Candle magic serves as an excellent entry point for neophytes in magical practice. Its allure lies in its straightforward design and uncomplicated mechanics, making it accessible for beginners. However, the simplicity that makes it attractive also serves as its Achilles heel. A plethora of publications, ranging from social media posts to books, frequently omit crucial details that are indispensable for ensuring the spell's effectiveness. For instance, many resources neglect to delve into the nuances of "intent," often misconstrued as mere desire, even though it is actually one's personal truth. Furthermore, these publications have a tendency to reduce the complexity of the practice to mere lists of correspondences, thereby overlooking the intricate mechanics that govern how a spell functions. This dearth of comprehensive information is a disservice to newcomers who seek a robust understanding of the practice, and it impedes their ability to enhance the efficacy of their spells.

Candles & Twine "Cord Cutting"

Another practice that has gained considerable attention is the use of candles and twine for what is commonly referred to as "cord cutting." On the surface, this practice provides valuable insights into personal relationships. However, a closer examination reveals significant shortcomings. Most notably, the ritual fails to fulfill its purported function of severing emotional or psychic connections—what is commonly referred to as "cord cutting." Instead, it remains an exercise in symbolic action that lacks the mechanics necessary to bring about real change. The information provided in popular publications often restricts itself to symbolic associations, failing to offer a comprehensive guide to the mechanics or other vital elements that could make the practice genuinely effective. Consequently, any results are likely psychological in nature, rather than stemming from genuine magical activity, unless utilized as a tool for divination.

Sigil Magic

Sigil magic enjoys widespread popularity due to its accessibility and the relatively common understanding of its mechanics—albeit mainly within the framework of the psychological model. Its versatility is another strong suit, capable of serving as a supplementary element in various other magical practices. However, it's crucial to scrutinize the limitations of this method. The preponderance of popular sigil crafting techniques derives from, or modifies, the Spare method, which operates solely within the psychological model. In essence, this approach amounts to subconscious suggestion rather than authentic magical action. As a result, practitioners may find themselves constrained by a limited scope of magical efficacy. Furthermore, the lack of accessible information on alternative methodologies exacerbates the problem, leaving practitioners with a narrow, and sometimes misleading, understanding of what sigil magic can achieve. The ubiquity of this practice also means that misinformation and misinterpretation are rife, further muddying the waters for those seeking to deepen their understanding and improve their skills.

Increasing the Magical Potency of Common Practices

Candle Magic

To augment the efficacy of candle magic, a considerate approach is essential. First, it's crucial to identify the traditional symbolic associations of various elements involved in the spell and consider whether your own personal correspondences might be more effective. Next, identifying a central point of focus, or state of gnosis, can serve to concentrate your energy more efficiently. This focus should align with your own deeply-held beliefs or personal truths to maximize the spell's efficacy.

Another vital step involves contemplating the specific means by which the spell will manifest its effects. This doesn't merely involve wishing for a particular outcome, but rather planning out the logical steps and mechanisms that will make it happen. This also involves doing conscious energy work that goes beyond mere mental imagery. Instead, one should focus on manipulating energy via the subtle body and energetic senses, perhaps using breath work, gestures, and/or vocalizations as aids.

Identifying the emotional state that will best serve the spell is another significant aspect. This emotional state should be in harmony with your personal truths and can serve to fuel the spell's energy. Additionally, writing out the specific mechanics of how the spell will function can provide clarity and enhance focus during the actual performance. Memorizing all actions or incantations can also prevent disruptions that might break your concentration during the ritual.

Cord Cutting

For those looking to enhance the efficacy of cord-cutting rituals, a complete overhaul is likely required.

Before the working, contemplate the means through which the spell will manifest its effects as to avoid any negative or harmful outcomes. Utilizing twine and a knife—or scissors, for those concerned about safety—can create a strong symbolic action that aids the spell. It's also beneficial to use correspondences, either mental or physical, that are directly connected to the target individuals. This requires either a strong personal knowledge of the individuals involved or a potent taglock to symbolize them.

Conscious energy work is again advisable, and this should be done without relying solely on mental imagery. Maintaining a state of focus, or gnosis, throughout the entire working is essential. To deepen your understanding and improve the potency of the ritual, you might also study various philosophies or religious teachings concerning the concept of fate or destiny.

Identifying an emotional state that aligns with your personal truth can also serve to fuel the energy of the ritual. Once the primary cord-cutting action has been performed, the common chords and candles approach can be employed as a form of divination to gauge the likely effectiveness and manifestation of the spell.

Sigil Magic

For those looking to venture beyond the well-trodden path of the psychological model in sigil magic, a multitude of avenues are worth exploring. To start, one should consider researching or contemplating how sigils could function within different paradigms or frameworks. This might involve developing an entirely new method of sigil crafting that deviates from the commonly used Spare method.

Contemplating the mechanics of how a non-psychological sigil could function is equally important. This might involve studying different cultural practices or philosophies to gain new perspectives. Researching various methods of charging and activating a sigil can also yield valuable insights. Different modalities might be more effective depending on the specific nature of the application in which the sigil will be used.

When incorporating a sigil into another spell, it's crucial to think critically about how the two will interact and complement each other. Drawing the sigil while in a state of deep focus, or gnosis, can enhance its accuracy, If this state is backed by strong emotional energy that aligns with your personal truths, its momentum will increase. The precision of a sigil can also be highly increased by performing energy work consciously while drawing the sigil. Finally, selecting a method of charging and activation that complements both your own capabilities and the specific nature of the working can serve to greatly enhance the overall potency of the spell.

General Practices and Methods to Improve Magical Potency

Research, Study, Experimentation, and Recording

The cornerstone of enhancing magical potency lies in a rigorous approach that involves research, study, experimentation, and detailed recording. When conducting research, it's imperative to look beyond sources that merely resonate with you on a personal level; instead, aim for a diverse array of reputable sources to avoid cognitive bias. Subsequently, study these materials assiduously, revisiting them often to consider ways you might expand or refine the practices described.

The use of experimentation, formulating and documenting predictions about how a spell will manifest is invaluable. These predictions should be dated and revisited to assess the spell's effectiveness. Sharing these predictions with other practitioners can serve as a check against confirmation bias. Conducting low-stakes spells can also serve as a useful methodological testbed, helping you refine your approach based on outcomes.

Maintaining a log of your spells is an essential practice. This archival process will facilitate a retrospective analysis, enabling you to discern which variables contributed to or hindered a spell's effectiveness.

Being Critical

Critical thinking should permeate your magical practice, although it's best applied either before or after a working, not during, so as not to disrupt your focus. Discernment in planning a working can preemptively address potential issues. After the spell's completion, seek feedback from anyone aware of the working but not of its projected outcomes. In your analysis, consider mundane factors that could have influenced the result, recognizing that magical outcomes often manifest through seemingly ordinary means. Keep a record of both successes and failures, and understand that setbacks are educational opportunities, not indicators of personal inadequacy.

Helpful Practices

Regular meditation can serve as a foundational practice for enhancing focus and understanding your inner landscape. Additionally, action flow states can be achieved through rhythmic, lyric-free music coupled with physical activities in sync with the beat. This can facilitate a trance-like state beneficial for magical work. Shadow work, while in no way is necessary, can help you uncover deeply rooted personal truths, while the development of personal symbolic associations can facilitate more potent states of focused awareness.

Energy Work

Contrary to popular misconceptions, energy work is neither a form of mental imagery nor a misapplied concept often referred to as "intent." It involves a nuanced understanding of one's subtle body and its energy centers. Identifying your Wellsource—the origin point of your energy—can further deepen your practice. Mastering the art of manipulating this energy effectively can be a powerful tool in improving magical potency.

Appropriation and Decolonization

It's crucial to recognize the importance of decolonizing one's magical practice. This entails a conscious effort to eschew cultural appropriation and to respect the origins and contexts of various magical systems. While learning from diverse traditions can enrich your practice, it should never involve taking elements out of their cultural context for personal use without proper understanding and initiation. Decolonizing your magical practice is a significant endeavor that requires sustained commitment, self-awareness, and active engagement. Here are some steps to help you in this important journey:

Educate Yourself: The first step in decolonizing your practice is to become knowledgeable about the histories, cultures, and traditions from which various magical practices originate. This will help you understand the contexts in which these practices were developed and how they have been affected by colonization.

Acknowledge Origins: Always give credit to the cultures, traditions, and communities from which certain practices and tools originate. This is not only a matter of respect but also a way to counteract the erasure that often occurs when practices are appropriated.

Assess Your Sources: Evaluate the materials you are using to learn about magical practices. Are they written or produced by individuals from within the tradition? Do they provide historical and cultural context? Are they respectful and do they avoid exoticizing or commodifying the practices they describe?

Reflect on Motivations and Entitlement: Examine your reasons for incorporating specific practices or tools into your own practice. Are you doing it because it's "trendy" or because you feel entitled to pick and choose from other cultures? Such motivations can be indicative of a colonizer mindset.

Avoid Cultural Cherry-Picking: Engaging deeply with another culture's practice means more than just adopting its magical or spiritual elements. It involves an understanding and respect for the culture as a whole, including its history, struggles, and contributions.

Engage in Dialogue: If you are interested in a practice that originates from a culture different from your own, try to engage in a respectful dialogue with individuals who belong to that culture. Seek their perspectives and listen to their experiences, and ask for their insights into ethical engagement with their traditions.

Prioritize Marginalized Voices: Elevate the voices and teachings of individuals from marginalized communities who are sharing their own traditions. Their perspectives are often sidelined but are crucial for a genuine understanding of these practices.

Financial Support: Whenever possible, support practitioners from the culture of interest by paying for their services, buying their products, or donating to causes they recommend. Economic empowerment is a form of reparative justice.

Revise and Reassess Continually: Decolonization is not a one-time action but an ongoing process. Keep updating your practices as you gain more knowledge and understanding. This may mean abandoning practices or tools that you now recognize as inappropriate for you to use.

Be Accountable: If you make a mistake—and most people do when they are learning—own it. Apologize, learn from it, and make amends if possible. Then take steps to ensure you do not repeat the same mistake.

Advocate and Educate: Use your platform, however big or small, to educate others about the importance of decolonizing magical practices. Share resources, engage in conversations, and challenge instances of appropriation you encounter.

Practice Humility: Recognize that the process of decolonization involves continual learning and that you won't have all the answers. Be open to criticism and willing to change your viewpoints and practices accordingly.

How Appropriation Negatively Affects Magical Potency

The act of appropriation in magical practices not only raises ethical concerns but also has deleterious effects on the potency of the rituals involved. One of the most glaring issues arises from the isolation of a practice from its original cultural context. Traditions, rites, and spells often have deeply ingrained cultural meanings and histories. When extracted from their native milieu, these practices lose the richness and nuance that contribute to their efficacy. The symbols, words, and actions employed in a ritual are often deeply tied to the specific geography, language, and folklore of its origin. Stripping away this context can dilute the ritual's power, rendering it a mere simulacrum of its original form.

Another significant concern pertains to the connections with spirits and ancestors that are inherent in many magical systems. These relationships are often built over generations and are rooted in specific cultural narratives, myths, and practices. When one appropriates these systems without a genuine link to the cultural lineage, the connection to these spirits and ancestors becomes tenuous at best. In some cases, this could even be seen as a form of spiritual trespassing, which not only questions the ethical standing of the practitioner but also diminishes the effectiveness of the ritual. These ancestral and spiritual links act as conduits for magical energy, and without them, the practice becomes hollow.

Lastly, the issue of alignment with one's personal truth cannot be ignored. Each individual has a unique set of beliefs, experiences, and perspectives that inform their magical practice. When one adopts practices from another culture without proper understanding or respect, there is a high likelihood that these borrowed elements will not align well with one's personal truths. This dissonance can create an internal discord, which in turn weakens the potency of the magical working. A harmonious alignment with one's core beliefs and experiences often serves as the bedrock upon which effective magical practice is built.

Implementation of the Concepts Discussed

The efficacy of magical practices can be significantly bolstered by adeptly incorporating cognitive techniques related to memory and repetition. One such method involves capitalizing on short-term memory. After assimilating beneficial information, executing a straightforward magical working immediately afterward can aid in embedding the newly acquired knowledge. This rapid recall and application essentially serve as the anchoring of the information more firmly by immediate utilization. This technique leverages the brain's natural propensity for retaining recently processed information and puts it to practical use, thus enhancing the likelihood of a successful magical outcome.

Subconscious memory plays a similarly pivotal role in the refinement of magical practices. The consistent and repeated consumption of relevant information can precipitate a subconscious framework that thereafter influences your methodologies. Over time, this reservoir of deeply ingrained knowledge becomes an almost instinctive guide during magical workings. The more frequently you engage with this material, the more it seeps into your subconscious, ultimately serving as an internal compass that steers your practices toward greater potency. Hence, the diligent study of reputable materials can lay the groundwork for a more effective and nuanced magical practice.

Repetition, both cognitive and practical, stands as another invaluable tool in solidifying one's magical practices. Repetitive engagement with the material, whether it's through written summaries, vocal articulation, or mental rehearsal, can fortify the neural pathways associated with that specific information. Furthermore, the regular enactment of magical workings that incorporate these concepts can engender a form of habituation. These practices, through repetition, become ingrained behaviors, thereby increasing the ease and fluidity with which they can be executed. This habitual nature, in turn, contributes to an overall enhancement of magical potency.

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This post was reviewed and edited for easier reading by ChatGPT.

#witchcraft #beginner witch #energy work #baby witch #witchcraft resources #witchcraft 101 #gspell #informational post

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theresattrpgforthat · 2 months

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Learning How to Play Forged in the Dark: Part 1, The Action Roll.

If you have never played a Forged in the Dark game before, picking up one can be intimidating, and that includes Protect the Child. I’ve talked about some general pieces of Forged in the Dark play before, but today I’m going to try and bridge the gap a little more by explaining the basics of the Action Roll, as well as Position and Effect.

The Action Roll.

In most Forged in the Dark games, the Action Roll consists of rolling a pool of 1-4 d6’s and looking for the highest number. Let’s look at the different outcomes.

6 = success. Multiple 6’s (Crit) are like a Nat 20 - you get the best possible outcome!

4 / 5 = partial success. You do the thing, but you also get a consequence or a cost.

1-3 = failure. You likely don’t do the thing - and the situation gets worse.

This is the basic roll for the bulk of Forged in the Dark games, and everything else stems from this rule.

Alright, now let’s talk about two axis of detail that are added to the Action Roll: Position & Effect.

Position

Position is how the GM communicates the difficulty of the thing that you, the player, are trying to do. In other words, it describes how bad things could get if you fail. There are three different Positions: Controlled, Risky and Desperate.

Controlled -> Failure is more like an annoyance, or something you could potentially avoid.

Risky -> Failure is going to suck a little.

Desperate -> Failure is going to suck a lot.

Effect

Effect is how the GM communicates the potential of success. To describe it in another way, it’s a measure of how much of your goal is achievable. There are five different levels of Effect:

None -> As is, you can’t do it.

Lesser -> You can do it… kinda.

Standard -> You can do it.

Greater -> You can do it well.

Extreme -> You can do it with the best possible result.

Position and Effect are combined to communicate to the player the stakes, as well as provide a shorthand to detail the span of possible outcomes based on the roll. The default combination is Risky/Standard - failure might suck a little, but if you succeed, you can do the thing. However, depending on the narrative situation or the rolls that have happened previously, you might be in a fire-fight with just a knife (that’s pretty Desperate), or perhaps an ally has handed you a grenade (that’s probably going to have Greater Effect).

This is a chart that indicates some of the outcomes that may happen depending on the result you get depending on your Position. The bottom row lays out the five possible Effects, and the number of ticks on a clock that they might correspond to.

On my next post, I’m going to explain how you combine Position & Effect with the tools on your character sheet. This is just a starting point - players have a lot of control over what the final outcome looks like!

If you want to start learning how to play Protect the Child, I recommend taking a look at the Google Spreadsheets linked on the store page and flipping through the character tabs. The Quickstart characters are 90% fleshed out and can give you an idea of what different character pieces can look like, and there’s a rules reference for how to roll underneath the stats for each character.

I also believe that playing is one of the easiest ways to learn, so if you want some hands on experience, hop into the playtest discord! There is at least one game happening every week designed to be easy for first-timers to hop into and give it a whirl.

If you want to read more about Forged in the Dark play, you can check out my intro to Forged in the Dark, as well as my explanation of Clocks!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #protect the child #forged in the dark #how to play #mint speaks

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irisintheafterglow · 11 months

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hear me out....Hawks hcs with a significant other who has a Chemist/Potion quirk. Like im talking a buncha potion bottles and glasses of little remedies they've made and have yet to test 🙏. Kei would occasionally find her notebook on the counter or table, the notebook being filled with ideas of new mixes or something specifically for healing for Keigo when he comes home injured

Also love your work! Some of the best things I've read have come from your page

good chemistry (pun intended)

cw/tags: fem!reader, established relationship, pet names (my girl, love, baby)

note: YASS YOU ARE COOKING and so is reader!! please excuse any chemistry misrepresentations i got a 2 on the ap chem exam LMAOO. thank you for the love, i hope you enjoy this!!!! been a hot minute since i wrote for keigo and i missed him :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

"you've got a visitor."

you startle when your coworker's head peeks into your lab, carefully setting down the beakers of volatilely combustible liquids on the black counter of the bench. she tilts her head to the side, urgently commanding you to check out whatever was making her so concerned. slipping off your gloves and sliding your goggles up on your forehead, you thank her as she opens the door and your jaw hits the floor. talking to an obviously starstruck receptionist was your boyfriend, still in his flight jacket and sunglasses and causing the biggest scene you've witnessed in the office since all might accidentally set off the sprinkler system. golden eyes flick over to you in the doorway and his mouth breaks out into a dazzling smile, one that has your coworker clutching the back of a chair for support.

"there's my girl," he murmurs, embracing you with strong, open arms and a chaste peck on your forehead, right under your goggles. you can feel the jealous eyes of the entire staff, but all keigo only pays attention to you. "you look beautiful today, birdie."

"you're saying that because i have goggle marks on my face, kei," you remark, unfazed, and he shrugs in defeat. red feathers sprinkle onto the floor and you make a note to remind him to recall them before he leaves.

"eh, worth a shot. you're unfortunately immune to my charm, now. just means i have to come up with some new lines." you scoff despite your racing heartbeat. with his stupid superhuman senses, he definitely knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"shouldn't you be on patrol?"

"i am, but i wanted to see you and bask in your radiance," he grins boyishly, running his tongue over a sharp tooth. despite every cell in your body wanting to drag him into the nearest supply closet and kiss him until you're breathless, you're still skeptical about the unexpected visit. his voice drops to a low, private octave that sends goosebumps up your arms. "also, i think you left a certain notebook on the kitchen table." your eyebrows blast off into the ceiling, panic overtaking you as you whirl your head toward your lab where you thought your formula book was.

"oh my god, did someone take-"

"no, baby. you're okay," he reassures you and the notebook magically appears from the depths of his jacket pockets. "i'm glad i picked it up before i left this morning," he chuckles. for good measure, you flip through the worn pages to verify that every experiment was, in fact, still there. exhaling a deep sigh of relief, you meet his gentle gaze with a thankful smile. the pages were worth more to you than any sum of money, since it held all the formulas for the antidotes and counteragents you made for keigo when he was injured.

you'd created it after he asked, between colorful strings of expletives, why getting patched up hurt more than the actual injury. being the loving partner you are, you decided to do something about it. your quirk allowed you to visualize all possible outcomes for a chemical reaction depending on the quantities of reactants and lab conditions. it ensured that every experiment you instigated would be successful, as long as you followed the conditions in your head down to the air temperature of the lab. your recordings in the notebook started as a simple antiseptic that didn't have the sting of store-bought bottles, one that could douse a wound without so much as a flinch from the injured patient. now, you were part of an independent company that created first aid products for heroes to use and distribute during rescues. and, it was all thanks to the oversized chicken-man that slept in your bed.

"whatcha workin' on right now?"

"some stronger eyedrops for eraserhead," you reply, taking his gloved hand and guiding him into your lab. he delicately picks up a few beakers, inspecting their color through the bottom of the glass like a kid in a soda shop.

"like the stuff you put in my eyes when-"

"when you got hit by that smoke quirk, mhmm," you hum, milling about in front of the shelf of chemicals. "if i figure this out, it'll also help when your eyes get dry from flying."

"you mean, when you figure this out," he reminds you, turning you to face him and pulling you close by your hips. he leans into your hand when you card your fingers through his wind-mussed hair, melting against your touch. "there's nothing in this world that you can't do."

"you're a really sappy guy, you know that?"

"i know it, as much as i know that you're never getting rid of me."

"you promise?"

"as long as the birds still fly, baby."

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#hawks x you #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha hawks #hawks x y/n #mha x y/n #keigo takami #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #hawks fluff #mha fluff #ask iris!

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jaylaxies · 2 years

Text

REWRITE THE STARS

PAIRING: prince!jay x princess!fem reader

GENRE/CW: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, tub sex, slight biting and marking, mentions of royal balls, wars, slight mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of masquerade balls and marriage, mentions of heeseung

WC: 7032 words

SYNOPSIS: you had only been dreaming of the suitor’s ball ever since you had turned nineteen, ensuring that everything would be perfect on that very day. it was like a fairytale how you met this charming man, who so gracefully asked you for a dance with him, soon taking you out for a walk in the royal rose garden, making you fall for his charms. however, how would you take it once you realize that he’s the prince from your rival kingdom whom you’ve grown to adore so dearly?

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! i’m back with another fic! i feel like i haven’t posted a jay fic in ages! this fic was a sfw fic i had written when i was seventeen, but i wished to share it with everyone now after a bit of editing and also adding a bit of spice to it! i hope y’all will enjoy this! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <3

A small smile graced your lips as you wandered deep inside the royal boutique, ball gowns of every colour and such intricate designs made it harder for you to select a design for yourself.

The royal suitor’s ball was a month away now, causing you to start preparing for it already. Now, this wasn't any ordinary ball, it was hosted by the most powerful kingdom out of three on the land of evander, the kingdom of Lavosta being the most powerful one, it had control over your kingdom, the kingdom of Azira and your rival kingdom, the kingdom of Nairid.

Nairid was ruled by king and queen park, they had a son, the heir to the throne who was born in the same year as you. Prince Park Jongseong, well known for his vast knowledge and graceful appearance, he was the next to be the king and was deemed perfect for the same.

Your kingdoms have been at war long before you were born, a truce was called not too long back as Lavosta had stopped sending resources to both the kingdoms, for the war had no positive outcome for their kingdom. But that didn't stop them from hating each other.

You continued searching for your gown as your elder brother joined you, “will you be wearing our kingdom colour for the ball?” Prince Heeseung asked, pointing at the royal blue gown your eyes were fixated on, he was two years older than you, and would be the one to take over the throne after your father.

“That would be too obvious, I'd fancy wearing something mysterious, and perhaps new instead,” you admitted as your gaze fell on a delicate black ball gown, the kind you had never seen before. Heeseung let out a small laugh, knowing all too well that you'll be adamant about getting that gown now.

And he was right, you chose the same gown and further asked the dress designer to make some changes in the design, adjusting it to your size for it to appear perfect.

Being the princess of Azira, you had to stay composed and portray your flawless etiquettes, no matter how tiring it got, you were adamant to give your best for your citizens. Nevertheless, the public loved you for you were — genuine and caring towards all despite the difference in their titles.

Giving your measurements to the royal tailor, you both rushed back to the palace for the supper. Your parents, the king and the queen questioned you about your preparations for the said ball, they seemed to be more intrigued than you were for the same, and you thanked the universe for getting such supportive parents.

You were nineteen, meaning that you would finally make your debut into the society as someone who's pursuing a suitor. Nineteen being the minimal age of allowance at the ball.

It was further discussed how Heeseung won't be attending the ball for he wanted to focus on studying for the time being, to be a successful successive king.

“I don't need to marry until I'm twenty three, as I'll take over by the time I’m twenty four,” he theorized.

The topic further shifted to Nairid, Prince Jongseong was to attend the ball as well, and you were warned to stay away from him, not that you needed to be told. You'd stay away from anything that could cause harm to your kingdom. You loved your people dearly.

The dinner soon concluded, and you were being prepped for the bed by your lady in waiting, named Anne, and slumber overtook you soon, dreams of finding your significant other overtook your brain, causing a small smile to crinkle onto your lips, an unfamiliar warmth filling up your body.

Far away in the land of Nairid, Prince Jongseong was going through the same procedures. For someone who's never paid attention to females other than being polite to them, he seemed to have a rather giddy feeling blooming up in him.

He had always been busy, learning about anything and everything he could, he craved knowledge, just like you did but he grasped more, saying it's essential for a king to know everything. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it.

Citizens adored him for being polite and understanding, helping them anytime he could. It brought him joy to see the citizens of his kingdom happy and comfortable in their own land.

That wasn't all though, Jongseong had a perfectly sculpted and fine-boned face, a body that can fight off any foe and eyes that could intrigue anyone.

He chose to wear black, just to maintain anonymity, as the theme for the year was masquerade, also because he fancied the colour black. He would not pursue just anyone, he would only write his name on the dance card of the woman he'd really be intrigued with, meaning he’d have very few dances, he’d have to keep in mind that this development would be important for his kingdom as his wife would become the queen once he becomes the king. With this thought, he fell into dreamland, a small smile lingering on his face.

Time passed by as all the royals kept on preparing for this big event. Three days before the event, you were busy guiding and packing all your essentials and luggage along with your lady in waiting. You were going there a day prior to settle in, and were going to leave as soon as the ball concluded, as it was a day-long journey from Azira to Lavosta.

Yet again, you were warned about Jongseong but it raised a slight problem, you had no clue what he looked like for you had never seen his portrait before, but you agreed to stay attentive nevertheless, staying away from anyone who wore his kingdom colours. You were promised to be shown his portrait as soon as it reached the palace for you to be more conscious of the successive balls you would be attending.

Meaning, you'll just have to guess his identity this particular time.

Soon you were on your way to your carriage, The King, Queen and Prince Heeseung, coming all the way out to see you off, “don't do anything naughty,” Heeseung giggled with a teasing smile causing everyone to laugh and for you to throw your handkerchief at him.

“What do you take me as?” You huffed with a pout, making him laugh even more.

You left Azira with a light heart, your ladies in waiting accompanied you along with guards to ensure safety.

While at Nairid, Jongseong faced the same problem, him being warned about your presence at the said ball without having any portrait to show him your features, only a description, which too wasn’t very particular about your features, nevertheless, he promised to stay alert and left for the ball, as it took a day to reach Lavosta from his kingdom too.

The journey was smooth and you were greeted by Queen Taeyeon of Lavosta as soon as you arrived at your destination, being on your best behaviour, you greeted her with a respectful bow as she gracefully smiled at your beauty, asking about your parents and their health.

Soon you were being escorted to your chamber and were free to rest for the day, taking in the beautiful scenery at the palace.

Jongseong arrived a while later, going through the same procedures, except his chamber was in the opposite direction of the grand palace. To say that everyone was nervous would be an understatement, attending such events meant being judged for even the minute details considering how everyone expects the best from the suitors.

Now that both the big kingdoms had sent their royal heirs, the expectations rose to an even higher level. The talks about your beauty and cleverness were all around the palace along with how Jongseong had a perfect face and appreciating worthy etiquettes.

You had been in your chamber the whole day, resting and calming down your racing heart, also noticing all the differences between your kingdom and here.

When it didn't stop, you decided to take a stroll to the famous rose garden of the palace. It was empty, just as you expected it to be and you were glad to be getting some time out in nature while the stars glistened, you had asked your guards to stay back at the entrance.

After a brief half hour of strolling and blessing your eyes with the prettiest roses you had ever come across, you decided to go back to your chamber. A sudden moment made you halt your steps, you hid your face with your handkerchief, enough to cover your face so that no one would recognize you.

“Is someone out there?” You started speed walking and turned back for a moment to see a stiletto standing there, staring at you with curiosity. That was enough to make you leave.

Prince Jongseong had seen you, or better, the shadowed face of you considering the lack of light during the nighttime.

His curiosity piqued as he didn't expect anyone to be awake this late at night, someone who would look beautiful even in the darkness, someone who’s charm spread all over the place with just their existence.

Soon enough, he left as well, just to look presentable for the big event tomorrow. Exhaustion overtook you both and sleep came to you easily.

The day of the suitors ball had finally arrived, everyone was in a frenzy to ensure that it went by smoothly. You were a nervous wreck, just as your ladies in waiting were. They made sure to get you ready and ensured to not even let a hair out of place, you had to look perfect enough to be every suitor's dream in order to catch the attention of someone who would be beneficial for your kingdom.

As soon as you entered the ball room, all eyes turned to look at you. Few of the reasons being — firstly, you were the only one with a black gown and, secondly, you looked beautiful even with a mask covering half of your face, grace dripping off your movements. Giving them a hesitant smile, you moved inside.

Jongseong made his entrance after a few minutes, you noticed how he was the only one other than you who wore black, and that his mask did nothing to hide his sharp jawline not to mention how his neck had a small heart shaped birthmark, similar to the one on your left clavicle. Your eyes couldn’t leave his figure.

You, being observant, noted how he walked with a perfect posture and his strides were confident, more confident than any other person you saw here. The man made you want to talk to him, approach him.

The royal dance commenced and several royals were quick to approach you for dance, writing their names on your dance card. You politely declined many of them, dancing with only two you found worthy enough as your mind kept wandering back to the guy in black.

He had noticed you too, your bold choice of colour intriguing him enough to muster up his courage to ask you for a dance.

“May I have the honour of dancing with you, my lady?” He asked, not knowing your title of being a princess and you kept it that way.

“I’d be glad to, sir,” you responded with a smile.

He didn't write his name on your dance card, you both did not even as much as ask for each other's name, saying how this anonymity made you both more curious.

He gently held on to your hand, placing his other hand on your waist and pulling you closer, close enough for you to take in his scent.

It was exquisite and unfamiliar.

Not a lot of words were exchanged during the dance, but you didn't fail to notice how light his hold was on your waist, as if he didn't want to cross any boundaries and you were truly grateful for that, but didn‘t stop your heart from beating fast.

“Shall we go for a stroll to the rose garden, my lady?” He offered soon after the melody had concluded.

You hesitated leaving the ball, however, something about this stranger made you want to break your rules just a snitch.

You agreed and made your way out with him.

As you both walked, you suddenly asked, “what should I call you, sire?”

He chuckled softly at your sweet voice and replied, “you can call me Jay, it's not my real name though.”

Only his friends called him Jay and no one else knew about this nickname of his. You nodded, acknowledging this before saying his name out, testing how it rolled off your lips.

“Can I call you queen?” he suddenly asked.

“Queen? Why so?” you asked, slightly confused.

“You have a strong and beautiful aura, which reminds me of how a queen should be,” he explained and it made you smile.

“Then you shall do it,” you said, trying to calm your racing heart.

You both reached a bench and sat down, gazing at the night sky. You removed your mask softly and Jay turned to look at you, mesmerized how elegant you looked even in the dim light of the night sky, your face lighting up in the moonlight.

“You're beautiful,” he blurted out without realizing what he said.

You laughed and thanked him, it made you feel better about yourself. Soon enough he removed his mask too and god he was beautiful.

“You look divine,” you spoke and he thanked the night for hiding his blush before he thanked you for the compliment.

And then you talked about your likes and dislikes, favourite colours and hobbies but never once came the topic of kingdoms.

A part of you both knew that maintaining anonymity could cause you to never meet again but you both promised to attend the yearly ball taking place just two weeks after this one. The ball which the public is allowed to attend too.

You decided that you liked him, he made you feel at ease, he felt the same but you both decided to keep these newfound feelings to yourself for now. The rest of the ball was spent the same way and you wouldn't change it for the world. Soon it was time to leave.

“I'll wait for you,” Jay said, looking forward to the next ball.

“I'll be there,” you promised. He bent down slightly, looking into your eyes with a soft glint before he gave you a small peck on your forehead, soon shying away. That's how you bid each other goodbye, butterflies filling up your lower abdomen.

All the time on your way back, you kept thinking about him, excited to tell your parents about him. Your ladies in waiting teased you for falling so fast but you didn't care. You felt happy.

Jay felt attached already, he felt that you'd become a great queen for him not just because he liked you, but he knew how intelligent you were from the conversations you had. It was no secret that both of you were attracted to knowledge, a small smile on his face as he looked at the beauty of trees outside from his carriage.

When you reached Azira, you told your parents and Prince Heeseung all about the ball, they were happy for you but your mother had a bad feeling about this, which she hid behind her smile.

Heeseung jokingly called you stupid for not asking his name and you agreed a bit on that part.

A few days had passed by, you were indulged in your daily work and classes as a princess. Your lady in waiting informed you that Prince Jongseong's portrait had reached your palace, now you would finally know who to stay away from. A bad feeling made you want to not go and check the same, but you did so for your safety as you reached your chamber and asked your lady in waiting to show you the said portrait.

You froze as you saw Jay's face on it. Putting the puzzle together, you finally understood how big of a mistake you had made, hand on your mouth as you stood there sadly.

Did he know you? Did he do it on purpose? Disappointment overtook you and yet you didn't want to blame him before knowing his side of the story, you couldn‘t understand why you felt this way, especially when you had met him only once before.

Maybe you were worried about this being a plan, or a betrayal, but the sincerity you saw in his eyes that day said otherwise.

You sighed, asking your lady in waiting to prepare a bath for you as you needed something which would help you relax.

Meanwhile at Nairid, Prince Jongseong had already seen your portrait a day before you saw his portrait. His heart was heavy, he never once considered you to be from Azira, for he was told that people from your kingdom were ones who are rude and boastful, and he had already made plans to make you his queen. He decided to confront you about this during the next ball, unsure if you would come or not.

Your mom figured out that the guy you met was Prince Jongseong due to your recent dull aura. As a queen and a mother, she called you over, holding you close and later, asking you to get over him before leaving, telling you how this relationship cannot ever be successful.

“He’s from a completely different world, Y/N, I’m sorry,” she said before letting you go and attend the ball which you had been waiting for, while also being nervous about it.

With a shaky breath, you got inside your carriage for the ball. You weren't sure if he would attend. Nor were you sure of what you'd say if you meet him there. Many princes had sent you proposals after the suitors' ball but you turned all of them down without second thoughts, only one man being in your heart.

Jongseong arrived on the day of the ball so you couldn't meet him before that. Your eyes searching for him since the day you had arrived, gulping when you didn‘t see him, relieved and sad at the same time, however, you had to control your emotions if you were to find him.

On the day of the ball, you took your sweet time in getting ready for the same, drawing everyone’s eyes again, face on display for the public to see as you bowed down slightly when the announcer announced your title to the ball.

He had spotted you instantly, learning your name and his eyes fixated on your figure, which this time wore a royal blue gown, your kingdom’s colour. While he wore emerald green, his own kingdom’s colour.

“Princess Y/N, can we talk for a moment?" He approached you almost instantly, gaining attention from others as they murmured about the two of you being together despite the differences in your kingdoms, but he maintained his composure.

You gulped and nodded, excusing yourself from the ladies you were talking to with a nervous smile, not looking into his eyes as you followed him silently.

You both reached the rose garden in a few minutes, “so, Prince Jongseong, I see you know me already,” you started, tone being accusatory.

“I learned about you a few days back when I was shown your portrait, I would not lead you on otherwise, princess,” he explained, sounding sorry.

Him being warned about you made you feel sad, but you had gone through the same thing, which made you realize how you can’t ever be with him.

“I learned about you quite recently as well, I'm disappointed that the circumstances turned out to be this way, Prince Jongseong, I cannot let my kingdom down,” you sighed, forming your sentences carefully.

“I'll take my leave early today, but before leaving, can I ask for something from you, princess?” It was so wrong and he knew it, but he would regret not doing this otherwise, his heart racing, blood rushing to his cheeks as he could not control his emotions anymore.

“What is it that you could want from me, prince?” You questioned, looking into his eyes which made your cheeks heat up.

“A kiss,” he breathed out and your eyes widened.

“I know it's wrong, princess, but I am certain to regret it if I don't kiss you,” he spoke softly.

For the first time in your lives, you both weren't thinking from your minds.

You were thinking from your hearts.

And so you nodded, allowing him to do so with a shaky breath, and soon his lips touched yours in a delicate kiss. That's how both of you lost your first kiss under the dim moonlight, heartbeats in sync with how your lips moved against each other, tingling with the feeling of being so close to each other.

As soon as the kiss broke, you turned away. Not feeling the need to stay at the ball anymore, Jay called out your name in desperation but you didn’t stop, tears forming in your eyes.

You had kissed a man you’d never be able to marry.

Reaching your chamber, you asked your guards and ladies in waiting to get ready to leave and before you knew it, you were returning back to Azira.

Little did you both know that the queen of Lavosta had seen your little escapade from her grand balcony's telescope. An idea formed in her mind to end the rivalry of both the kingdoms once and for all.

Two days after returning from the ball, Prince Jongseong was called to his father's chamber. His father, the king, had an unreadable expression resting on his face.

“Tell me, son. Why does Queen Taeyeon want you to get married to the princess of Azira?” He finally asked.

Jongseong's breath hitched, eyes widening at his father’s question.

“The queen sent a letter, it briefly mentioned that you were spotted with princess Y/N,” he explained. He wasn't disappointed, all the king wanted was for his son to be safe.

“I'm sorry, father,” Jongseong apologized in a whisper.

“It's not your fault son, the queen has ordered you to get married to princess Y/N without thinking how it will affect our kingdom,” he sighed, looking at his queen with a troubled couple expression.

“I will not marry her.” It hurt him to say this, but he wouldn't let the citizens suffer, also remembering how you ran away after he had kissed you, and maybe you wouldn‘t want to see him ever again.

While in your kingdom, you had gotten the same letter and your parents were worried, knowing how this could be harmful for you and your whole kingdom. So, you had decided the same thing, to say no to the proposal laid out by Queen Taeyeon.

Your brother looked at you with a sad face.

“I'm so sorry, Y/N,” your mom said, hugging you.

Now all that was left to decide was how to let the queen know that you had declined the proposal. It would affect your relationship with her kingdom.

You quietly sobbed in your chambers, wanting nothing more than to be with Prince Jongseong, calling yourself stupid for wanting to be so selfish.

A few days later, queen Taeyeon of Lavosta got both letters saying that both kingdoms had declined the proposal. She knew it wouldn't last long, and this would be the outcome.

“Queen,” a guard entered her chambers, bowing down to show respect to the most powerful queen among the three big kingdoms.

“We found out a spy, he revealed a few plans after we forced him to,” he said.

“What is it about?” she asked.

“They’re planning to attack Azira in a few days,” he informed.

Her guards informed her about the speculations of a foreign king planning to attack Azira, telling her about everything he knew and she took her time to plan ways to help her neighbouring kingdom.

She decided to make a profit out of it alongside, knowing exactly who would be willing to help your kingdom.

She got a letter delivered to Nairid for Prince Jongseong. All that was written in the said letter were the words: princess Y/N is in danger, reach to her with your soldiers as soon as you can.

The letter was successful in getting him restless. Even if he had opposed everything about your kingdom, he had fallen for you and he'd most certainly won't let anything happen to you.

So, he told his father, who hesitantly agreed to help him when he saw that the letter came from queen of Lavosta herself, he also knew that Jongseong was intelligent and wouldn't rush his decisions.

He trusted his son.

He sent Jongseong along with an army of guards to help your kingdom. He would have thought of the letter as a filthy prank had it not come directly from queen Taeyeon.

They set off for their journey to Azira as fast as it was possible, Prince Jongseong led the army with speed, riding his horse as his heart raced with the fear that he won‘t be able to see you if he’ll be late by even a second. A determined expression on his face, jaw clenched and eyes sharp.

While in Azira, everything was calm. Too calm to be normal. For a whole day, no one had visited the palace except for the royal family and their workers. The market was shut down and the town was empty, as if everyone knew that something terrible was going to happen.

A day passed by, Prince Jongseong traveled without stopping and was near your kingdom by the time the enemy had attacked, aiming directly for the palace as the others attacked the town. Soon, the whole army of guards were fighting against the enemy soldiers, you and Heeseung helped the guards as you had mastered using the swords and you insisted on helping.

The king and the queen were made sure to be in the safest place surrounded by the most skilled guards.

Yet, the enemies outnumbered your guards as they mercilessly killed people. You had a long scratch on your skilled hand which made it harder for you to keep up, your protective covering was damaged as well.

Soon, you heard a commotion outside the palace, you had no clue as to what it was till you spotted Jay with his soldiers. He had come to help you despite the unfavorable circumstances of your kingdoms. You didn’t get a chance to even smile at the sight before you had to grab your sword again and attack at the enemy coming close to you.

You were distracted, causing another injury on your shoulder blade, thankfully it wasn't enough to potentially injure to the point you would faint. Jay had spotted you, rushing right into the palace to find you and he ran over to you.

“Princess,” he said breathlessly, cupping your cheeks.

“Prince,” you replied, breathless as well, but this interaction was short-lived as you were attacked yet again.

Jay slashed the man in one go, mentally promising himself to not let anyone harm you, eyes dark as he saw your injuries. It went on for a few hours but yours and Jay's army outnumbered their soldiers, winning the war, he never once left your side.

Until Jay saw your father getting targeted by a man who somehow survived the war, he ran and covered your father, the king. The sword pierced right through him, making him go limp in a few seconds.

You let out a scream while Prince Heeseung killed the last man standing, ending the war finally, breathing hard.

Your father was stunned to see Jay giving himself out for him. You pressed your hand on his wound, applying pressure, crying and calling out for the royal medic to tend him. Soon, he was taken into the medic ward, leaving you out. All you could do was pray, pray for him to be fine and alive. Your father sent many medics all over the kingdom to tend to the others who were injured.

Lastly he sent a letter to Nairid, to the king, to let him know that Jay was injured. He wanted to end the war for all now. He would call truce as soon as the other king would arrive here. It had been hours, yet no response from the medics who were busy treating Jay.

You were taken back to your chamber despite your wailing and were made to freshen up, your eyes swollen, body covered in blood and heart breaking as you imagined how Jay would be, as soon as you entered the medic chamber, you saw Heeseung by Jay's limp body.

“He’s alive, just unconscious,” Prince Heeseung informed you and you thanked the gods, a tear sliding down your cheek.

“You should get married to him, you know?” Prince Heeseung said with a smile, approving the relationship.

“Only if he would want to,” you sadly said, not sure of what to expect, “he almost got killed saving us,” you sobbed, looking at him.

Prince Heeseung gave you a sad smile as your parents entered the chamber as well, their little injuries made you even sadder.

“Prince Jongseong, how can we thank him?” your father spoke, asking no one in particular, showing how grateful he's for Jongseong. Yet, he was sad to see him suffering because of him.

He laid there unconscious, still looking like an angel. A day passed by and you never once left his side. You softly kept muttering how thankful you were to him, wiping his face with a soft wet cloth.

“I think I like you, Prince Jongseong,” you whispered, thinking that he wouldn't hear, a feeling of warmth bloomed up in your body as you finally said it out loud.

As soon as you said that, the gates of the chamber opened, revealing Jongseong's father and mother. You bowed down, showing respect to the king and queen of Nairid.

You were quick to apologize for everything that had happened here and to their son, the queen keeping a hand on your shoulder to tell you that it was fine, and you were not at fault.

They made you feel welcome despite the long rivalry your kingdoms had.

They stayed by Jay, deeply worried and sad seeing their future king and son in this state, muttering how proud they are and how brave he is.

They further met your parents, who had come to the chamber as well. explaining the whole story to them, they called in truce even before your father could say a word.

They hugged each other, looking like they've been friends for their whole life and it gave you hope, hope of being with Jay.

They decided to stay at Azira till Jay woke up and soon you were alone with him again in the medic ward. You gently caressed his hair while staring into nothingness.

“So princess Y/N likes me,” suddenly a voice said, scaring you.

You saw that Jay was awake, your eyes widening, a big teasing smile on his face.

Without thinking anything, you hugged him with a shaky breath.

“Ouch!” He let out as his wound was still healing.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” you said moving back, careful to not hurt him again, he let out a laugh and squeezed you into another hug, making you smile softly as you teared up again, butterflies rising in your stomach, and before you could do much, he was sent to freshen up by the medics, you sat there, waiting for him.

“Are you stupid? Why did you come here? You got injured, Jay–” your little rant ended as he put his hand on your mouth.

You had started complaining as soon as he returned after freshening up.

“Wow, no one has called me stupid before,” he said as if it was an achievement, caressing your cheek slightly, making your stomach tingle.

You sighed, shaking your head and hugged him again with a pout on your lips.

“I like you too princess. I came to ensure your safety. I still have to marry you, you know?” He spoke softly, hoping that you won't reject his proposal.

He wanted to marry you, the mere thought of it made you smile as you leaned back to look at him.

“You want to marry me?” You questioned, staring at him with big doe eyes.

“Only if you allow me to, princess,” he said with a smile, hoping you'd say yes.

“I can never say no to you, prince,” you truthfully said as he captured your lips to his, both of you smiling into the kiss as his hand rested on your waist, his eyes glistening while he looked at your face.

Needless to say, everyone was overjoyed with this news, well, it did take time for citizens of both the kingdoms but they did mend their relationships. And in the blink of an eye came the day of your engagement. Jay had ensured for your attires to look the same as the ones you wore at the masquerade ball, the day you first met, just with different colours.

He looked at you with such pure eyes, holding nothing but adoration for you and only you. After exchanging engagement rings, Jay whispered an “love you” near your ear, making your heart flutter. You subtly whispered “and I love you” back to him causing him to break out into a big smile.

Citizens were happy to see you both jovial together. Your brother kept sending you teasing smiles. Your parents were beaming, matching the smiles of Jay's parents. Lastly, Queen Taeyeon of Lavosta sat there with a proud smirk, she was glad to see you together. Afterall, she was the one to initiate this in the first place.

The ceremony was grand, your eyes going around the venue, trying to capture everything into your memory forever, the reception being even more grand as the royals from all neighbouring kingdoms had come to bless you two with their pure hearts.

“Princess,” Prince Jongseong whispered in your ear when no one was paying attention to you both, enjoying themselves.

“Yes?” You asked softly, a feeling of shyness covering your tone.

He looked at you with adoration, “the gods must really love me,” he spoke, “I prayed for you to be mine, and now, you are my princess,” he whispered.

With your palpitating heart and love filled eyes, you softly said, “I think god loves us both then.”

His eyes widened slightly once he heard you, and he had to use his whole willpower to stop himself from kissing you right then and there.

He couldn’t wait to have you alone with him.

Once the ceremonies were over, you looked over to your parents, saddened by the fact that you won't be living with them anymore.

Prince Jongseong took your hand and placed it on his arm gently, giving you a reassuring smile as you both made your way towards his chamber, your breathing was heavy as you tried not to think about how you would be sharing Prince Jongseong’s chamber with him from now onwards.

“You must be exhausted, princess. You should clean up first,” he suggested, extending his hand towards the door that separated the bathing area.

You were all alone, the water already warm, set perfectly to take bath by the maids who had come priorly to ensure that you both won’t be needing anything else later on.

However, you seemed to have trouble opening the knot of the corset you had worn, leaving you frustrated as you couldn’t ask for help from anyone else.

With heated cheeks, you called out for the prince.

Prince Jongseong hadn’t expected that you would call out for him, and so, he rushed into the bathing chambers to check whether you required any help.

“Yes, princess?” He asked, breathless once he looked at your hair, which were no longer in a bun, only the accessories still decorated them, his heartbeat rose at your next words.

“Could you please help me take this off?” You asked softly, brushing your hair away from your back to show him the knot.

He came closer, his warm fingers rested on your bare arm as the other one pulled on the string, loosening your corset until it was fully off. His warm breath fanned your neck, his deep voice taking your name in a soft whisper.

“Tell me to go, princess, or else I won’t be able to control myself,” he said, face red and eyes on your figure, which was just in a thin white slip.

You had never felt this way before, your knees felt weak and you did not wish for the price to leave.

“Don’t go,” you whispered out, turning to look at him, “please?”

“Come here,” he said, guiding you towards the royal bath tub.

You did not remove your slip as you walked down the stairs and into the warm water, goosebumps covering your skin at the pleasurable feeling.

You sat down with a low sigh leaving your lips, eyes opening to look at your prince, chest rising up and down once you saw him unbuttoning his blazer, taking off all his clothes.

With a gasp, you looked away, not wanting to invade his privacy and look at him. You were flustered, an indescribable feeling rose up in your lower abdomen.

He soon got into the water, coming close to you. You could see the scars from the battle on his perfectly sculpted body when you turned towards him, the water covering his stomach. His arms flexed when he extended them, calling you in to be in his arms.

Your steps were slow, and his eyes dropped down to see your wet white slip sticking to your body, revealing everything to him, causing him to groan and pull you closer by the waist.

“Do you have any clue how long I’ve wanted you all to myself?” He asked, his fingers on your chin making you look up to him and gulp.

He could have sworn you were the prettiest person he had ever laid his eyes on, your innocent and shy gaze made him go crazy.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, “because if you say yes now, then I won’t be able to stop later.”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

In the span of a millisecond, he leaned forward and his lips were on yours. He tasted exactly like the cherry wine you had earlier, your hand on his chest keeping you stable before he deepened the kiss, titling your head so softly as his tongue tasted your mouth, humming and swirling his tongue around yours.

He leaned back for a second to look at your expression, he was mesmerized, thumb caressing your cheek before he made you both sit down, placing you on his lap, the water reaching your neck as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I wanted you from the day I saw you, princess,” he whispered, kissing your jaw softly, holding your waist tighter.

“I’ve prayed so much to have you,” you confessed, breathing hard as you shifted on his lap, feeling his length between your thighs.

A soft sigh left your lips, his lips never leaving yours, his hands slowly moving up to touch and get familiar with every inch of your body.

He helped you get out of your slip, breath hitching as he took in your appearance, all wet and naked, breathing hard as you tried to get close to him. He wanted you.

Pulling you up, he did not waste a second before he touched your breasts, kissing and giving them all his attention. Your eyes closed shut at the sensation, soft whines leaving your lips as your hand rested on the back of his head.

“Want you,” you moaned.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he said, cupping your face, “look at me.”

He picked you up by your waist, positioning himself so that you’re just above his tip, your eyes never left his as you slowly sinked down on his cock, stretching your hole as you clenched around him, eyes closing as you felt it all.

He pulled you in a rushed kiss, slowly helping you move up and down, both of you breathing hard as you leaned your forehead against his, gripping on the hair on his nape, noses touching while you breathed the same air.

You leaned in, slowly kissing on his supple skin as you continued with your movements, his breathy groans sounding like melody to you.

His face had a look of euphoria, lower lip bitten when he pulled you in closer, moving his hips in sync with yours, the water felt warmer now, the area steamy and you could only focus on the man in front of you.

He dug his fingers deeper into your waist, helping you move up and down as your lips left noises of pleasure.

“I cannot believe you’re mine,” he breathed, stunned by your beauty and how dizzy it made him feel.

“I’ve always wanted to be yours,” you replied, eyes full of love as he held you closer when you clenched around him, thighs shaking and your high was near.

Jay couldn’t help but kiss your lips again, as if he was obsessed with them, obsessed with you.

Loud whines and deep groans filled the bathing area as you and him chased your high, him pulling you into his arms to calm down, tracing your spine and kissing your shoulder softly while you wrapped your arms around him and snuggled closer.

“I love you, princess,” he confessed, causing you to move back to look at him.

Tears filled your eyes with the amount of happiness that surged through you with his sentence.

“I love you too, prince,” you said, capturing his lips in a slow, sweet kiss.

And to end this royally, it was safe to say that they lived happily ever after.

THANK YOU FOR READING <3

#fic : rewrite the stars #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #kpop smut #romance #smut #jay hard hours #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #park jay smut #jake smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut

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masterqwertster · 9 days

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Knowing that a visit with the Matron of Ravens is tentatively on the docket for Bells Hells, I do hope that she can provide some guidance thanks to her Domain of Fate.

Now I know Fate (in the pre-determined sense) gets weird when you factor in Free Will (Player choices) and TTRPGs' base mechanics of random chance via dice. But, it is possible to play with Fate: the most statistically likely outcome from a (set of) decision(s).

Like, the idea that in infinite possibilities, putting on your left or right sock first is by-and-large not going to have a significant impact on what comes next in your life and the world. But the difference between driving drunk and calling a cab has a not insignificant chance of being measured in lives, including your own.

So I would hope that, running off that model of what's more likely to happen based on (likely) choices, the Matron can see far enough into the high probability futures based on current plans in consideration to say: Yeah no, the Arch Heart's plan is dumb and going to kill a lot of people for little to no reward besides saying "We got rid of the (current) pantheon!"

I mean, surely she can see the power struggle of half or more of the world's healthcare and defenses being kneecapped. The Calamity 2.0 of the gods either standing their ground or all the lesser deities/powers that don't get eaten/chased out fighting for control of Exandria. All the wizards free to chase an ascension to the empty thrones of godhood (if they even need that much power to lord themselves over the rest of the world).

So please, oh goddess of successful Wizard Hubris, Weaver of Fate, enlighten these beloved chucklefucks to the Consequences of releasing a God-eater instead of trying to tackle the actual problem people (as long a battle as changing the world one step at a time is).

#mq blathers #critical role #cr spoilers #cr speculation #the matron of ravens #bells hells

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 3 months

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by Clifford Asness

The truth: The Jews were given a scrap of ancestral land (actually, they bought much of it fair and square, and after decades of organizing and building, were given a mandate to start a tiny country on it) and defended it against five invading armies in 1948, after the Palestinians and allied Arab countries rejected the original two-state solution the Jews had accepted. Over the years, the Israelis then turned deserts into orange groves and then turned orange groves into Silicon Valley,2 all while under military assaults, surprise attacks, bombardment, terrorism, and continued international pressure to reward their attackers for their crimes. And they did this while maintaining a vibrant liberal democracy. Israeli Arabs, one-fifth of Israel’s population, are still the only Arabs in the region who enjoy the fruits of, and participate in running, such a democracy.

But to today’s progressive activist, Israel’s success is itself the proof of its moral bankruptcy, just as perfidy is the progressive’s only explanation for success. Israel’s prosperity, its stunning success—in the absolute and especially when judged against its neighbors—is something that must be defeated. Progressives would otherwise be compelled to admit that Western civilization, democracy, and capitalism produce the most human flourishing and also the fairest distribution of it. You might call it a perverse immoral hazard. Far-left progressives cannot let Israel’s success count as best practices.

In contrast, the Palestinians who fled Israel in 1948 and their descendants have had a tough time of it, largely due to their leaders. Israel took in a similar number of Jews expelled, de facto or through explicit threat of pogrom, from the Arab world. But the Palestinians’ fellow Arabs did not take them in, choosing instead to keep them in squalor as a bargaining chip and a cudgel against Israel, and because they just didn’t want them (see Egypt’s Gaza border wall today).3 United Nations sympathizers abetted the scheme, forcing Palestinians into permanent refugeehood based on birth (a modern serfdom) in defiance of UN principles (no other refugees are characterized this way). Israel didn’t do any of this to them; their supposed friends did.

Aid money sent to Gaza and the West Bank over the years has not been used to build a productive economy. Instead, it’s been used to dig sophisticated, ex-tensive terror tunnels, support a lavish lifestyle for Palestinian leaders, and provide nice annuities to the families of “martyrs” as a means of intentionally encouraging more. These leaders consciously built failure, an economic failure married to a death cult, instead of trying for success. Progressives honor them for it.

According to today’s progressive dogma, it’s only outcomes that matter, because outcomes represent not equality but “equity.”4 Equal opportunities and equal rights are insufficient; it is equal outcomes that are truly moral. And when measured against the Israelis, the Palestinian refugees clearly don’t have such “equity.” So Israel must be an oppressor and the perma-class of “powerless” refugees (again, courtesy of their friends) must be saints and martyrs. What’s a progressive to do? Credit the Israelis for their earned success? Blame the Palestinians leaders, so clearly responsible, for their people’s open sores? Blame the countries supporting Palestine for cynically perpetuating their condition? No, clearly, what you do is blame the Israelis for their sin of prospering and then head to the barricades for barbarians because a failed society must axiomatically be a just and righteous one.

#jews #israel #capitalism #progressive dogma #equity #equality

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧

To foster and encourage growth, you had to first begin with a seed — a start of a new life, the beginnings of a story. It was similar to how you met your husband if only a little unorthodox, but who were you to question a newfound tradition?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☼ Farmer!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☼ 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☼ Fluff ჻჻჻ TROPES: Meet Cute

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☼ Colton is the best wingman. Fight me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☼ Fire by Noah Gunderson

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☼ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 8 — "How did you meet?" — Masterlist

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ‘𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The morning was crisp, and the sun was bright, the beginnings of a new, hopeful day – one that you were excited to see the outcome. It was a Sunday, and the Farmer’s Market was in full swing of being set up. Even Bucky had elected to come and help on this occasion instead of working on the farm.

“Where do you want this?” Bucky asked, large crate in hand, this one full to the brim of your famous peaches.

You pointed to the end of your table. “Over there, please,” you replied. Bucky nodded and placed the crate down with a huff. “Thank you.”

“It’s lookin’ good, sweetheart,” Bucky said abruptly, right over your shoulder. You gasped quietly in surprise and turned to stare at him. “What?”

“Stop scaring the shit outta me,” you sniped, slapping his arm. “We’ve got shit to do now, c’mon.”

Bucky sighed and continued lugging crates from the bed of the truck to the stand, all while people started flooding the square, milling about the stands of produce and haggling for bargains.

An older woman, the greying strands of hair at her temples bright under the morning sun, stopped at your stall just as you finished setting up the jars of jam. “Hey there,” you greeted, beaming at her. “What can I get for you today?”

“Just some jam, love,” she said. You nodded and collected a couple of jars just as Bucky dropped the last crate with a groan. The older woman smiled at him as he stood behind you.

“All loaded, baby,” Bucky breathed, kissing you on the cheek. You nodded and pointed to a chair, indicating he should sit for a minute (if only to get him out of the way). “Damn right ‘m gonna sit after the hard work you made me do.”

“Ignore my husband,” you breathed, shaking your head.

The older woman laughed. “How did you two meet? I’ve seen you in these parts before, and everyone loves you both.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s my damn horse’s fault, ma’am,” he said, “the bastard was gone on her from the very first second.”

You rolled your eyes as the memory flashed through your mind.

The old truck you had borrowed from a friend rumbled down the road, gravel, and stone kicking up in its wake – the bitumen long overdue for a patch job.

It did add to the charm of your small town, though. Your family had spent generations farming the land and supporting the local economy by running endless farmer’s markets – a tourist hotspot, if you did say so yourself, especially going by the recent uptick in new arrivals.

The recent overtake of Parker’s Provisions by the newcomers , May and Peter Parker, had been a successful move – both having been welcomed and adored in equal measure by the townsfolk, Peter especially. That firecracker of a young man always made your day, rain or shine, and you were looking forward to your weekly supply run for the animals back home.

Though, the sight of a horse hitched at the front of the sprawling lot of buildings that made up the Parker’s Production lot was a shock. It wasn’t often that the ranchers and farmers on the outskirt properties actually rode into town. Instead, they always elected to bring their trucks and trailers.

Your truck came to a shuddering stop when you parked, and you killed the engine, taking just a moment to marvel at the horse hitched. It was a stallion, his face soft and kind, but his body was a whole other story. Muscles rippled and twitched as he stood while waiting for his rider – the build of a Quarter Horse very much evident in the stance of the creature. A barrel or cattle mount, you couldn’t quite tell.

His coat was a chocolate brown, with splashes of white over his flanks and legs, and a thick, pretty stripe adorned his face.

You couldn’t help but feel that while he looked at you, he was staring straight into you – deep into your being to reveal secrets and mysteries you kept hidden from the world.

It was unnerving, though assuring in the way that being seen was.

The driver’s door opened with a squeak, and you slid out of the truck and into the hot summer air outside. People milled about with bags and baskets, each one waving a small hello, and you smiled back at everyone politely. A loud voice inside the closest shed told you Peter was on site today, and you smiled.

“Hey, Pete!” you called, and a brunette mop of hair peeked around the doorway.

“Hey! Just a sec, I’ll be out with you soon,” Peter yelled back, disappearing again.

You chuckled and made to step towards the stallion, hand outstretched. “Hey, handsome–aren’t you a sight, huh?” The horse snorted, twitched his ears, and stared at you. “I know it’s hot out, but you look like your rider takes good care of you.”

Slowly, the stallion stretched his head out and sniffed the air around your hand, and once he made contact, the soft skin of his muzzle tickled your palm. “You’re just gorgeous,” you breathed, scratching his chin gently.

“Well, well, well–ain’t every day he finds a Peach he likes,” a voice drawled behind you, and you startled, spinning around on the spot. “Easy, love,” the man said, hands outstretched. “No harm done.”

“I’m sorry, I just- He’s gorgeous,” you rushed, hand over your heart. The man smiled and shook his head, the movement freeing his long hair from behind his ears. Taking a second, you took in the stranger. He was wearing a white tank top that was far too tight, a plaid jacket, and a pair of light jeans with boots – his hair was half up in a bun while the other half hung around his face, sticking to his skin from the sweat of a hot day.

“He is. A good horse, too,” the man said, still smiling. He walked closer, dug into his saddle bag, and pulled out his wallet. “Aren’t you, Colton? Lettin’ a pretty Peach love on you like that, huh?”

Colton snorted and nudged your shoulder, evidently displeased you stopped paying him attention. You chuckled and pet his neck, feeling the strong muscles under his skin. “A very good horse, indeed.”

The man grinned and shoved his wallet into his back pocket, then he offered you his hand to shake. “I’m Bucky, by the way–too distracted by the fact that my asshole of a horse actually lettin’ someone near ‘im that’s not me.”

This time you laughed, shaking Bucky’s hand and offering your name in return. “It’s nice seeing a fellow rancher out and about with his prize; makes me miss having my own,” you commented, slightly wistful. It had been years since you had owned a horse.

“I honestly jus’ couldn’t be bothered goin’ back home to get my truck, and Colton needed the exercise anyway, so.” Bucky shrugged. “Best be gettin’ back inside. Stuff won’t pay for itself.”

“Okay,” you said, “I best be going in there too. I have to pick up my order.”

“Oh!” Bucky exclaimed. Then, to your absolute and utter shock, he offered you his arm. “Together then?”

“Well, alright,” you laughed, placing your arm through his. “Why not.”

It was an hour later that you strode back through the doors to your truck, arms full with bags of feed while Bucky and Peter trailed behind you with their own arms full of bags – having had offered to help you carry, and you couldn’t resist the sight of seeing Bucky’s arms bulge under the strain.

And Lord above, he did not disappoint.

“Alright, that’s it, miss,” Peter huffed, heaving a bag into the truck’s bed. “See you next week, yeah?”

“Absolutely, Pete, thanks,” you called, waving to the young man’s retreating back. You turned to Bucky, smiling. “Well, it was good to meet you, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned. “Likewise, sugar. You should come and have coffee sometime.” He turned to Colton. “I know that bastard would love it if you came and fed him some peaches or somethin’–greedy sonofabitch,” he laughed, shaking his head at the hilariously deadpan expression on his stallion’s face.

“I would love to.” The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them, and you inwardly sighed. So much for subtlety. “It would be great. How about tomorrow? We can have lunch.”

“Sounds perfect to me, Peach,” Bucky said happily, saluting. “You get home safe now, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow–where do you live?”

You recited your address and smiled nervously, watching as Bucky mounted Colton and turned him around. “I expect all the stops pulled out, mister,” you joked, pointing at him.

“Can’t disappoint ya, honey–promise,” Bucky joked, “see you tomorrow!”

Colton snorted and started a slow trot away, Bucky’s hand loosely holding the reins as the stallion moved away and turned a corner, out of sight.

“He’s a decent boy,” a voice said behind you, and you jumped. May was smirking at you from the office. “Always kind and sweet–should give it a go, honey, can’t hurt.”

“You’re right,” you conceded a soft smile on your lips. “Can’t hurt. He ain’t bad to look at, either.”

May laughed and waved goodbye, and you jumped back into your truck, already thinking of all the ways tomorrow could go – or how it would end.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works

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thesightstoshowyou · 1 year

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Permission

Part 6

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader x Jesse Cromeans (NSFW)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)

Summary: Chromeskull joins the party.

Warnings: Implied Stockholm syndrome, blood, heavy gore, minor character death, violence, threats, use of “she,” nonconsensual face fucking, a little daddy kink, Asa and Jesse flirting.

A/N: Hohoho lookie here! Finally, a part 6 to my multi chapter Asa fic! I thought it would be fun to add Jesse into the mix and tie my little universe all together

*You can find more poly Reader/SkullCollector fics on my Masterlist*

The untouched mug on the counter grows cold as you stand frozen in the kitchen. You stare, wide-eyed, at the calendar hanging on the wall. It’s Friday again.

Asa has been gone for an entire week. Seven whole days. This is the longest he’s ever left you alone with no explanation.

Something must be wrong.

You’re certain if the Collector had been stopped, the story would be endlessly broadcasted on every station. There has been nothing on the news about his capture. So, the question remains:

Is he dead?

Had a trap gone awry, a victim escaped, gained the upper hand?

The thought should fill you with glee, elation, relief. You could be going home any day now. Yet, all you feel is cold dread, fear so heavy in your gut it’s made you too sick to even finish your coffee.

What do you do?

Slowly, your gaze shifts until you’re eyeing Asa’s dogs. They’re both staring at you intently, ears perked, like they know what you’re thinking. You’ve seen first hand what they can do to a person. You were warned, and the Collector doesn’t make empty threats. They’ll tear you to shreds the moment you reach for the door handle.

But you can’t stay here until the groceries run out.

You exit the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the front door as you move. Paws click on hardwood as the hounds follow, only pausing their measured pursuit when you ascend the stairs.

It takes some fiddling with the weighty lock on the medicine cabinet, but you eventually manage to work it open. Mismatched eyes scan the bottles until you find what you’re looking for: Diphenhydramine.

Pills rattle as the bottle rests in your trembling hand. In your mind, a battle rages. Asa will kill you if you accidentally overdose his dogs. There’s no question about that. You’re fairly certain you know the dose to give them, confident even.

But, say you’re successful? He’ll most certainly kill you for leaving the house.

How will you get to the hotel? You know where it is, a fact you’ve kept hidden from the Collector. Once, in the days of your imprisonment, you’d found a tear in the peeling wallpaper, a hole in the rotting wall beyond. The terrain was familiar, a place you knew was close to the shooting range your uncle used to take you as a child.

Then, after you make it to the hotel? Asa will kill you for knowing where it’s located, for showing up unannounced. You’ll be too much of a liability.

All options lead to death. There is no outcome that will ensure your survival.

But you were dead the moment you fell into that trunk anyway.

You spare one final look at the dogs sprawled out on the living room floor, furry chests rising and falling with slow, sedated breaths before you depart, front door clicking shut behind you. Silently, you cross the porch, descend the stairs, hurry into the moonless night.

Sweating, panting, you deposit the e-bike you’d stolen behind a pile of scrap metal. Even with the help of the little electric motor, you’re exhausted. Sitting around Asa’s house all day isn’t doing your stamina any favors.

Quietly, you sneak around to the back of the dilapidated hotel. It stands silent, casting an ominous shadow. Any passerby would be oblivious to the house of horrors contained within. You’d never wanted to return as long as you lived.

Yet, here you are.

There’s a crack in one of the boards covering a set of windows. Carefully, you wedge your fingers into the break and pull, peeling away the plywood little by little. Every snap makes you jump and whip your head over your shoulder, but your noise alerts no one. You may very well be alone out here.

Once enough board has been peeled away, you reach in to lift the latch on the widow. It takes several long minutes of shoving and wiggling before the ancient frame gives and slides open. Hastily, you squeeze inside.

The smell hits you first; bleach, medical grade antiseptic, musty carpet, dust, all with an undercurrent of rancid decay. It’s like a punch in the gut, the scent bringing back the worst memories of your life. You clap a hand over your mouth and nose to silence your surprised cough.

From down the hall comes the rattling of chains, gurgling snarls. You hurry in the opposite direction.

Behind a stack of dusty, peeling books you find the hidden staircase. Hastily, you shove them to the side, heave open the creaky door, slip through. You are certain to close it tightly, lest any of those…people try to follow.

You’re careful on the stairs. Unsteady metal bars rattle under your hands as you ascend, one squeaky step at a time. You skip the top one—it is set to give way, something sharp undoubtably waiting below.

Now, you’ve reached the second level, the one with which you are most familiar. Still, you tread with extreme caution. Asa may have moved traps, changed things since you were last here. To come all this way just to be impaled would be less than ideal.

No sign of the Collector yet. You ponder where to search first. Raising your gaze, you make eye contact with the camera perched in the corner of the hallway. If he’s in the control room, he will know you’re here. The thought constricts your throat. Images of his cold, furious expression float to the forefront of your mind.

Stop it, stop thinking. Keep walking.

Carefully, you traverse the wide, main hallway leading to the display room. Ease over a trip wire, skirt around a loose floorboard. The huge wooden doors are ajar, just enough for you to slip past.

It’s quiet inside, eerily so. Icy blue light emanates from the display cases and makes the room feel colder than it actually is. Distantly, you hear mechanical whirring, but it’s further away, down the other hallway maybe—

Movement across the room, in your peripheral.

You startle, head snapping in the direction you saw something large and black slinking behind one of the glowing cases. For a one, hopeful moment, you think it’s Asa, but then….

A man emerges from behind a case, pale light glinting off the shiny, chrome skull mask he wears. He’s tall, incredibly so. He wears torn black nitrile gloves and a black button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos littering his forearms. You notice one of the sleeves of his shirt is torn at the shoulder, dried blood visible on the skin underneath. He has more slashes on his neck, and he appears to be limping, though it’s difficult to tell with how he swaggers as he admires the macabre creations suspended within the displays.

Confidence. Recklessness. The man wears these characteristics as plain as the gleaming mask on his face

He pauses when he spots you trembling on the other side of the room and a moment of tense silence passes between the two of you. Slowly, curiously, his head tilts to the side and you can almost feel his eyes—hidden in the dark holes of the mask—tracing your figure.

A blinking red light catches your eye and you frown when you spot the camera mounted on his shoulder. Odd. What could that be for…?

From his pocket, the man in the mask produces a cell phone. Quickly, he types up a message and holds up the phone. You flinch when the phone screams at you, what sounds like various terrified women yelling his message:

‘Where did you come from, piggy?’

Unease twists your stomach in knots. You take one step backward. Slowly, the man withdraws his other hand from his pocket. Clutched in his palm is a massive, serrated blade. Your eyes grow wide as he nonchalantly swings it around a gloved finger.

You’ve seen enough.

Turning on your heel, you flee, hopping through the gap in the door and sprinting down the hall. Behind you, the door bangs open, smashing against the the wall, and you hear the click and whir of a trap. That should do it—

Spikes fly down from the ceiling, poised to skewer, but the man merely steps to the side, effortlessly dodging the trap. How did…?

Understanding hits, a missing puzzle piece snapping into place. This is why Asa has been gone for a week. This man. His injuries…these must have been inflicted by the Collector.

Is Asa hurt too?

Is he dead?

You don’t have time to linger and think. The man is already stalking toward you, knife at the ready, boots thunking on ancient hardwood.

You’re off in a blink, hurrying around the corner and down the next hall. You fly past rooms, duck under wires, hop over triggers. You turn left, then right.

Slowing, you listen. Silence greets you. Are you still being pursued?

Don’t wait around to find out.

Cautiously, you search around you for a set of stairs. You’re fairly certain there is a staircase around here….

A startled shriek rips from your throat when strong arms seize you around the waist, haul you off your feet, drag you into a nearby room. The door slams shut and you grunt when you’re smashed back against a crumbling wall. Glancing up, your eyes widen when find yourself face to face with an incredulous, unmasked Asa Emory.

His expression darkens and you feel him tense as he prepares to throttle you, but you’re the first to react.

“Asa!” you exclaim, leaping into his arms and wrapping your own around him. His familiar scent—musky cedar, cigarette smoke—fills your lungs and your racing heart calms, swells. Asa’s own arms hover next to you, half-outstretched as he stands frozen in place, like he’s unsure where to put them.

Coming back to himself, the Collector grips your shoulders tightly and pushes you back against the wall. “Why are you here?” he hisses, shaking you slightly for emphasis.

“I was…I thought…I thought you were dead!” you reply, tears welling up in your eyes. Asa’s brows raise, then furrow. He fixes you with a hard, calculating stare, like he’s looking for something.

You notice his eyes then. Dark purple circles sit underneath, darker than normal. He’s exhausted. Has he gotten any sleep all week? Next, a slash of red draws your gaze, your eyes falling to his chest. His sweater is torn, the skin beneath sliced open. His knuckles are bloody too, you notice, and there’s dried, flaking crimson caked on his left ear.

“You’re hurt,” you whisper, pressing your fingers to his chest. He shakes his head, like it doesn’t matter.

“You saw him,” he states. It’s not a question but you nod. “Is he close?”

“I don’t know. Who—

Asa doesn’t let you finish. He grips your wrist, throws open the door, peeks outside before dragging you out and around another turn, past a hidden doorway, down a flight of stairs. You pass that room—the one filled with bloody instruments, stainless steel gurneys, vials of evil smelling liquids, terrariums, and empty, torn trunks—and enter another.

He closes and locks this door as you survey the various monitors mounted on the walls, the costumes and weapons hanging on hooks. The control room. On a nearby table sits a huge, serrated knife, the twin to the one the masked man wields. The Collector must have gotten it away from him during a skirmish.

You turn to face Asa, timid, terrified he’s going to hurt you for showing up here, but you find his weary gaze elsewhere. He’s watching the screens, dark eyes scanning, searching for the intruder.

You both spot him at the same time, strolling along one of the second floor hallways. He peers inside rooms, swinging that heinous blade around a finger like he has all the time in the world. Is he still looking for you, or for the Collector?

Asa sighs and slumps into a chair. Finally, he glances in your direction. The annoyance in his eyes makes you bite your lip and flinch and, on reflex, you drop to your knees.

The Collector blinks wearily and exhales sharply through his nose. “Watch him.” he orders, pointing at the screen. Earnestly, you nod, jumping to your feet once more and gluing your eyes to the screen.

Rustling behind you tempts you to look, but fear of disobeying more orders keeps you still. Tearing of paper, clinking of something metallic—easy to ignore—but it’s the hiss of pain that makes you twist around.

Asa’s shirt is gone and he fumbles with the antiseptic, the strange angle of the laceration on his chest difficult to see on his own. You hesitate for a moment, but the shaking of his hands prompts you to act.

Watching the man in the chrome skull mask out of the corner of your eye, you take the antiseptic-soaked gauze from the Collector’s fingers and gently dab along his wound. You wager his pure exhaustion is the only thing keeping him from gutting you on the spot, but if the tense look on his face is anything to go by, you’re in for it later.

If there is a later.

Asa hands you the liquid bandage and, as you carefully apply it along injured flesh, the deep vibration of his chest heralds his voice.

“There have been a series of murders in the south. You’ve seen it on the news, I assume.” You nod, vaguely recalling the story: Videotapes sent to police showing the brutal murders of various women.

Wait. Videotapes? You glance at the monitors again.

The camera on his shoulder.

“Him?” you exclaim, looking back to Asa in shock.

The Collector nods. “He fits the description.” You don’t question how he knows this. Instead, you wonder why the man is here. Your question must show on your face because he murmurs, “I’m not entirely sure why he’s here, but I suspect it’s something to do with me.”

He can read your damn mind.

You reach for more gauze to take care of his split knuckles, but find the first aid kit empty. He’s used it all up.

You know where to find more though….

“No,” Asa snaps, shaking his head when you raise your gaze to his face. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you glance at the monitors. The man is all the way on the other end of the floor above. You could make it back with more gauze before he noticed….

Asa’s hand darts out, grips your jaw, squeezes hard as he forces you to meet his frigid gaze. “No.” It’s sharp, final, the look on his face sending a thrill of icy fear down your spine. He’s had more than enough of your disobedience.

“Yes, Sir,” you whisper, eyes lowering submissively. A strained beat passes, your jaw beginning to ache under Asa’s rough grip. Worse pain is finally coming, you’re sure of it—

Calloused digits ghost along your upper arm and you flinch in surprise, eyes flying back up to his face. Heat instantly curls in your belly, a conditioned response to the way his hungry gaze assesses your frightened expression. It only takes the pressure of his thumb tugging down your bottom lip for a whimper to sneak past your teeth.

The Collector seems to remember himself then. There’s a quick inhale as he sits back, eyes snapping to the monitors, hands releasing you, pushing you away. Your own hand flies to your chest to feel your heart hammering under your palm. Thickly, you swallow, steadying yourself. On screen, the intruder still stalks through the halls, nearer than he was last time you looked.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Asa’s eyes close. Your own flit between his face and the cameras, the masked man closer now. He’s directly above you both, near the secret staircase. Back to Asa, his arms are lax, his breathing steady…. Asleep. How exhausted he must be to allow himself to sleep while you’re here, awake.

Back to the monitor, the man now picks at something on the wall, head tilted to the side, inquisitive, searching. He’s going to find it, the little divot in the wall revealing the hidden entrance.

You look to the door lock—will it hold—then back to Asa’s sleeping figure—should you wake him—long fingers sneak under the hook, pull, loud creaking of wood, it’s open, he’s on the stairs—

“Asa,” you hiss, hands wringing in front of you. The Collector doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, too fatigued to be pulled from his slumber. Thump, thump, thump, you hear the measured steps as the intruder descends the hidden staircase.

Do something! Distraction. You need to make some kind of distraction, something to draw his attention away from the both of you.

There’s no thought in your head as you move to the door, tug it open, slip outside, close it again. Going right will take you down to the basement, to the pen of the Collector’s drugged once-humans. To your left, the room of empty trunks and medical supplies, the staircase just beyond.

Left it is.

You reach the medical room just as the man rounds the corner. Spotting you, he doesn’t hesitate this time and instead sprints directly toward you with a surprising burst of speed. Heart leaping into your throat, you dive through the doorway, slam the door shut, twist the heavy lock.

The man rams into the door and you yelp, stumbling back into an empty gurney, sending it clattering and crashing into a closed trunk. A desperate, muffled scream from within pulls another shriek from you, your hands flying up to your mouth.

There’s someone else in here!

WHAM, WHAM!

He kicks the door, metal thudding noisily under his boot. Next to you, the trunk wails and shudders.

Shit, now what? You had not intended to endanger another person, even if their fate has already been sealed. But, if you linger too long, the man will move on down the hall, finding the control room and a helpless, dozing Asa….

Your sweaty palm closes around a scalpel. Swearing internally at your poor excuse for a plan, you twist the lock then jump back, scurrying across the room as far away from the door as you can get.

Silence.

Then, the handle rattles as it’s twisted, hinges squealing as the door swings open. In saunters your pursuer, his frame filling up the entire doorway, fluorescents gleaming off the chrome skull mask.

You stare at one another, your hands trembling, his reaching in his pocket for his knife and his phone. Keys click and you wonder what shouted message awaits. You brace, muscles tense, ready to fight or flee.

‘Pretty piggy, aren’t you? Are you his little house pet—

Screaming startles you both. “HELP, OH GOD, PLEASE!” shrieks the contents of the wobbling trunk. The man glances from the trunk back to you, like he’s waiting for an explanation. Shouldn’t he know what they’re for by now?

You say nothing, shuddering breath the only sound leaving your lips. The man shrugs, stalks over to the trunk, kicks it over. It hits the floor with a clunk, a stifled groan sounding within. Locks click and the lid swings open.

With a cry, a young man claws his way out of the trunk, arms flailing, blood and sweat and dirt staining his clothes and splashed across his skin. You can only watch, trepidation turning to nausea in your gut as the man in the mask grabs him by the hair, twists him around so he’s facing you.

The man from the trunk is weak from dehydration and exhaustion, his fingers uselessly tugging at his captor’s arm. A pathetic wail leaves his chapped lips when the serrated blade passes before his wild eyes.

There’s no chance for him, you realize, terror gripping your chest when the point of the knife sets against the victim’s ear. The man in the mask looks directly at you then and you can almost see the smile through chrome.

Your gasped, “Wait!” is interrupted by a sickening crunch as steel is forced into the ear canal and the skull beyond. The young man’s shocked expression freezes, goes slack, twists as the blade saws through flesh and bone. The cracking, snapping, squelching of sinew, the splatter of gore onto concrete makes you gag, stumble back, slap a palm over your mouth.

He doesn’t bother to look away from you, seemingly more intrigued by your reaction than what’s happening to the seizing body in his clutches. You so desperately want to tear your gaze away, but you don’t dare, not when you’re next. Not with the way he’s eyeing your quivering form like a hungry predator.

Your heart skips a beat when he glances down to grab hold of the mangled jaw bone. It’s the only chance he’s going to give you.

Go.

You sprint toward the open door.

Thud, thud, CRASH.

He smashes into you so hard it sends you careening into the wall, your skull cracking against its hard surface. Your vision blurs, darkens. Your knees buckle. The scalpel clatters to the floor, forgotten.

You would have crumpled to the ground if not for the hand gripping you around the throat, holding you up, torn, black nitrile squeaking against the skin of your throat.

Asa?

You blink. Blink again. Blurred vision clears. No. No, not Asa.

You must squint your eyes when a bright phone screen is shoved in your face. Dizzy, you read the typed message before it’s shouted at you:

‘Gotcha.’

Your dazed reflection stares back at you as the man bends, chrome mask level with your face. He glances down to type and you’re frozen in place when you realize he’s holding the knife, blade bathed in crimson. Across the room, the young man lays motionless, empty trunk at his side.

‘Who is he? What’s with the trunks?’ shrieks the phone. He wants you to tell him about Asa. You glance into the dark eye holes of the mask and shake your head.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

‘C’mon, doll. You don’t want to ruin his pretty toy, do you? How long has he had this place?’ As you read the text, the bloody knife is pushed between your shivering legs, flat of the blade coming to a rest at the apex of your thighs. A squeak leaves you, your body tensing, blood rushing furiously in your ears. Again, recklessly, you shake your head.

A huff sounds from behind the mask. The man shrugs as if to say, ‘Suit yourself.’ Reaching up to his shoulder, he presses a button on his shoulder camera. Red light flashes. He’s recording. There’s pressure against your groin—oh god you’re really about to die this time—

Everything disappears all at once—the hand around your throat, solid chest against your arm, steel on your crotch—seconds before a knife whooshes past your face, so close the air disturbs your hair as it passes. Following its path, you see Asa poised in the doorway, hand extended. He stares daggers at you and the masked man who has backed away across the room.

A shivering breath leaves you and you scurry to the Collector’s side, heedless of the ire radiating off him in waves. You’re in so much trouble, you’re dead, he’s going to cut you into little tiny pieces and feed you to his bugs….

‘Loyal doggy you have there. Where do I get me one of those?’

The man nods toward you when his phone speaks for him. You glance up at Asa. His face is unreadable, cold expression firmly in place. The mask tilts back down as another message is typed. You hold your breath. The Collector waits. Above you, fluorescent lights buzz.

‘Nice set up you got here. How much you charging for rent?’

You frown. The man’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. He’s…making jokes?

Asa is silent, still. You wonder what he’s planning. More keyboard clicking heralds another message:

‘Tough crowd. Alright, this has been fun, but I need a steak and something to fuck before I lose my shit.’

Before you can even react, there’s a wheezing exhale to your left. You must do a double take, your jaw dropping when you discover the sound came from Asa. He’d…he laughed.

Your eyes dart from one man to the other. They exchange something, some look you can’t read, some feeling you can’t place. There’s a shift in the tension, like a wave receding. Asa’s chin lifts slightly as the other man’s head tips minutely to the left. Are they…communicating?

The cell is back out, quick taps, and then, ‘Unless you’ll let me borrow that one’s mouth.’ He points to you as the words are screamed from the speaker.

Incredulous, you can’t suppress the scoff. You wait for Asa’s quick retort—

“Go ahead.”

Your eyes bug out of your head, “W-What—

But, the man in the mask crosses the room before you can finish. He twists a hand in your hair, drags you away, shoves you to your knees. You cry out when they crack against concrete, then hiss and squirm as he works his pants open.

“Behave,” Asa commands and you freeze, staring pleadingly at him out of the corner of your eye. He stands as still as a statue. When he meets your gaze, your stomach plummets, horrible understanding settling there instead. He’s going to let this happen because this is your punishment. This is your punishment for leaving the house, for coming here, for leaving the control room.

You earned this.

The man grips your jaw, squeezes until your lips pop open. Instantly, warm, hard flesh pushes past your teeth, fills your mouth, forces its way into your throat until your gagging, choking on cock and musky scent.

He releases a slow exhale and peers down at you. The hand in your hair twists tighter, holds your nose firmly against his pelvis as your poor throat spasms to accompany his girth. Tears well up, spill over, streak down your cheeks. The thumb of his free hand comes up to smear them across your face before he retrieves his phone once again.

‘That’s good. Cry for Daddy.’

You barely have time to suck in a breath when he pulls back before he’s shoving you down his length again. Thrust after vicious thrust assaults your throat, strangled, wet whines doing their best to escape. Drool spills down your chin, wets your chest, drips onto your pants.

‘Chirps, doesn’t she?’ shrieks the phone.

“Like a cricket,” Asa comments.

Through tears, you stare up at the black eyeholes of the mask. You don’t have to see his eyes to know they’re intently focused on your wrecked expression. He doesn’t make a sound, but you can tell by the way his thighs shake under your palms he’s affected. Close too, you hope.

With one final buck of his hips, your nose is pulled flush against him once more, copious warmth spilling down your battered throat. Only a long sigh escapes him, the muscles of his thighs relaxing with his release. Finally, your hair slips free of his fingers so you can scoot away.

Gasping, coughing, dripping, you move to slump backward, but your back hits something solid. Black boots, black pants…. Tipping your head back, you find Asa looming over you.

He seizes you under the arms, hauls you to your feet, grips your jaw so you look straight into the chrome mask.

“What do you say?” the Collector demands. You fight the grimace that threatens to sour your features, something that would surely mean more discomfort. Instead, you speak through shuddering inhales:

“T-Thank…thank y-you…Daddy.”

The man in the mask saunters forward until he’s standing inches from you and Asa. For a moment, you panic, realizing you’ll be skewered first should this strange truce be broken.

Instead, the man snaps off his bloody gloves and tosses them over a shoulder. He reaches out, hooks his fingers in the waistband of your jeans, runs his knuckles along the skin of your belly.

He’s not looking at you, though. Even with the mask on, you can tell he’s staring straight at Asa. The Collector stares back, his own hands releasing your jaw, sliding down your body to grip the fingers teasing your skin. Asa guides the other’s hands to the button of your pants.

Permission.

The man pauses. Finally, he looks at you. Phone in hand, he types one more message.

“Well, sweetheart. I’m Jesse.” You’re stunned to silence, baffled beyond words. Asa helps.

“Manners.”

“…Nice to meet you…Jesse.”

#asa emory #the collector 2009 #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #laid to rest #asa emory x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #the collector x reader #chromeskull x reader #skullcollector #thesightstoshowyou #the collection 2012

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