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magicalbats · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 18: Spanking

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7590

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, over the knee spanking (my favorite cmdmdmd), paddling with a hairbrush

A/N: I really hope this one isn't too messy, I haven't been feeling super great and I am posting this at *checks clock* 4:26 in the morning skdnfksnf so please be gentle with me! 🙈

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The Duke of Meropide was a truly infuriating scoundrel!

You’d been arguing with him in his office for almost an hour now and it felt like all you’d done is go around in endless circles. One moment he would in all seriousness shoot down a suggestion or a point you’ve made, and the next he would abruptly ask you about tea or cookies with equal sincerity. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and you were quickly reaching the end of your patience with him. Had the topic of reform and rehabilitation of ex inmates not been so very important to you, you’re sure you would have stormed out of his office a long time ago.

“For the final time, my lord, I care for neither your white tea nor your black tea.” You intone as mildly as you can manage given the state of your nerves. “Please, just listen to me for a moment. That is all I ask.”

Perfectly casual, Wriothesley reclines back into his tall chair and brings his hands together over the bend of a propped up knee. “I have been listening. Quite attentively too. However, I just don’t see how your proposal is going to work and I think you might be barking up the wrong tree, miss. My apologies for saying so.”

“No offense taken.” You clench your jaw so tight it hurts. “But why do you think it isn’t going to work? Have I not explained the steps to successful rehabilitation enough for your liking?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly thorough. Excessive, even.”

Spine snapping straight at that, you pin him with a furious look you don’t even try to conceal but he just waves it off without missing a beat.

“The problem is, I don’t think you understand how the Fortress of Meropide functions. It is you who hasn’t been listening to me, I’m afraid.” He continues on, as stony and impassive as ever. “As I already said, the inmates are free to leave once their sentences are served in full. It’s just that the vast majority of them do not wish to return to the surface world and choose to stay here of their own volition. There’s nothing I nor you can do to change that.”

“But — but that’s because there weren’t any systems in place to help them!” You stammer, desperately rifling through your stacks of paperwork and statistics in search of the findings collected on job and housing placement welfare. Finally locating it with a triumphant puff of air, you jump to your feet and shove it at him over the desk even when he tries to once again wave it off. “The proof is right here, your grace. It should take only a moment of your time to read and understand the data presented in this report for someone as no doubt well informed as you are.”

Stilling, Wriothesley steadily meets your look of challenge with a cool stare of his own. A beat passes and then, heaving a rather terse sigh, he reaches out to reluctantly accept the sheet from you. “I’ll look at it but I’m telling you, miss. These graphs and numbers don’t mean anything in the real world.”

“We’ll see about that.” You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, impertinently standing over him while he reads even when you know you’re really pushing your luck here. He was a duke, a by all accounts certificate wielding lord in the flesh and blood, and you, a lowly commoner, had no right to try and force his hand like this. Still, you hold your ground though, confident that you knew what you were talking about when you had the data to back it up. It was he who didn’t understand how the real world worked after spending so much time underneath the ocean in this rust bucket of bolts he called a fortress.

His eyes steadily move over the page, taking in everything at an agreeable enough pace to placate you into silence, and Wriothesley eventually gives his head a curt nod when he reaches the bottom. “I see. It’s just as I thought.”

You have but the blink of an eye to feel the first dawnings of hope start to crest over your heart and then, unceremonious as can be, he reaches over to neatly deposit the paper into the trash bin.

“It’s garbage.”

“Wh - wait just a minute - what do you mean it’s garbage?” You stammer, spit and sputter in white-hot affront so potent you start to feel your cheeks becoming warm. It takes every single ounce of self control you possess not to round on the desk and throttle the life right out of him! “If you didn’t understand the information all you had to do was ask, your grace and I would have gladly taken the time to - -“

“I understood it perfectly, miss, and I am once again telling you that it is your understanding of the situation that is inherently flawed, not mine. You simply can’t make the prisoners do something they don’t want. I trust that you do understand that much, at least?”

“It is not a matter of making them!” You seethe, hands clenching into tight fists at your sides. “It’s giving them a viable option between spending the rest of their lives trapped under the sea or being able to rejoin their friends and family on the surface. I expected you to have at least a little bit of sympathy for the people under your care!”

Heaving another soft sigh, Wriothesley unfolds his legs and sits forward to brace his elbows on the desk in the most impolite slouch you’ve ever seen from someone who was supposedly a part of the aristocracy. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I think I care about them a shade more than you do. We’re talking about people who have made a new place for themselves down here and it would be remiss of me to start kicking them out just so you can get your brownie points. This is their home.”

You jerk as if he’d physically struck you. “Now you listen here - -“

“No. I have listened to you enough for one afternoon, miss.” He cuts across you like the crack of a whip without either raising his voice nor sharpening his tone, but the low rumble in it is still enough to stop you in your tracks.

Eyes widening slightly, you watch him stand from his chair and sedately step around the desk to come loom over you with his imposingly massive frame that leaves you pitifully craning your neck back when he stops in front of you.

“It’s time for you to listen to me now. I’m sure you had good intentions in coming here with this little scheme you cooked up but I’m telling you it isn’t going to work. The inmates who choose to stay here like the simplicity of life in Meropide and the stability it provides them. So long as they work hard and stay out of trouble they’ll have no problems earning a living for themselves but can the same be said about the overworld? What’s going to happen when they get fired from the jobs you place them in after running late one too many times? Or what about when they fall asleep during their shift from exhaustion? Do you know what happens when either of those things occur down here? They simply don’t get their regular number of coupons for the day but they can always come back and do better the next. Will they have that same security up on the surface?”

“T - that’s why rehabilitation is so important.” You rush to say. “We can teach them to reintegrate into society so that they won’t have to worry about things like that - -“

“Everyone worries about things like that, little miss. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Your eyes flash at him dangerously. “Do not call me that! In fact, I believe I’ve had quite enough of you at this point! I want to speak to someone else! Preferably a person with something more substantial than rocks for brains!”

Wriothesley scowls at that, narrowing his own eyes back at you in warning. “You can want it all you like but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it. I’m the only person you need to speak to right now … and I would suggest you reconsider how you’re speaking to me.”

“Hah! Or what?” Riding high on adrenaline and jittery nerves, you impulsively reach out to jab a finger at the center of his big, beefy chest. “You can’t throw me into a cell just because you don’t like the tone of my voice! Is that the kind of operation you're running down here? Maybe when I get back up to the surface I should contact The Steambird about the tyrannical power trip his grace is on!”

He snorts a brief laugh as if the very notion was a ludicrous one, though you couldn’t tell if it was your assertion or the thought that you might go to the papers that he found humorous. “That’s funny, but I don’t need to throw you in prison just to put you in your place, miss. I’m giving you one final warning to knock it off and calm down.”

You take an aggressive step closer to him, head tilted all the way back now so you could see his face past the bulky mass across his pectorals. “Enlighten me then, my lord. What are you going to do to me if I don’t bend the knee?”

“I think I might start by taking you over my knee first.”

Giving a startled jerk, you go stock still and just stare at him for the span of a single heartbeat. The ice suddenly gripping your veins is instantly replaced by a hot, raging inferno that seems to make your blood boil and, seeing red, you viciously bring your heel down on the top of his boot, grinding it in for good measure. “I’d like to see you try it, you ba - -“

His hand shoots up and, much to your squawking surprise, he grabs around the meat of your upper arm to tug you into him, making you stumble and half fall against the bend of his elbow. Before you even have a chance to draw a full breath to berate him with his other hand cracks across the meat of your ass with a deafening whap! The sharp pain is immediate and splintering, rocking you against him with the abrupt impact as your mouth warbles open in equal parts hurt and shock. He gives your arm a tight yank to keep you pressed in against his side when you try to scuttle away, nudging you insistently until you realize you have no choice but to look up at him except … except you’re not sure if you do so with impotent rage darkening your face or if it’s a tearfully remorseful expression he sees looking back at him.

Perhaps it was a frustrating combination of the two?

Wriothesley regards you in contemplative silence for a long moment, his own facial expression not giving much of anything away while the blinding sting across your backside gradually settles into a constant burning throb, but you don’t know what else to do other than stand there and wait for him to say something. You couldn’t believe he’d struck you like that — like a child! You’d only just met the duke today so for him to be putting his hands on you like that was beyond ridiculous, and completely inappropriate. But for as mad as you were, even for as much as your body trembles with frantic, clawing anger, you didn’t quite trust yourself to speak just yet … he would hear about it soon enough. In great detail and at even greater length, once you’d recovered enough to not need to worry your voice would crack and waver over your words. Very soon indeed.

“I told you what was going to happen,” He says at last, perfectly calm and even toned as ever considering he’d just hit you. “Didn’t I, little miss?”

Glaring daggers at him, you give your body a furious wrench against his hold but he keeps you in place easily enough. His hand was just so big it seemed to nearly encompass the total width of your bicep, allotting him the perfect hold on you that would only cause pain and discomfort if you were to truly struggle which left you with very little in the way of options. Grudgingly, you go still again and petulantly turn your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him any longer. You needed to focus on calming yourself before anything else. Acting rash now was only going to get you hurt.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” You finally manage to hiss. “But you've got a lot of nerve to put your hands on me like this.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” He volleys right back, not missing a beat, and you irritably twitch when you realize he’s thrown your own words back at you. He’d be in for a rude awakening soon enough, if you had any say in the matter.

“Enjoy your fun while you can, your grace. I was only bluffing earlier but now I think I really will go to The Steambird and tell them everything that’s transpired here today! What do you think about that, hm?” Impulsively, you whip your head back around to pin him with a biting look of challenge, but he just lifts his brows up at you as if in surprise.

“I think you are indeed a mouthy little brat in need of a good spanking to correct that attitude of yours. What are you going to do at The Steambird then? Take your pants down to show them your red bottom and let them take pictures for the morning paper?” Clicking his tongue, Wriothesley shakes his head as if in disappointment. “You’re not thinking this through all the way, but I suspect that’s a problem you regularly struggle with. Come, let’s get you sorted out.”

You suck in a horrified, raking breath when he shifts as if to move back towards his chair and quickly dig your heels into the ground to stop it. “W - wait! You can’t do this!” You wail, and a foolish pitter patter of hope skips across your chest when he actually pauses to look at you again. Maybe you could still talk your way out of this. It might cost you some of your pride, but that seemed a reasonable sacrifice given the situation. “Ah, what I meant to say is … I’m sorry?”

A sudden, clipped bark of laughter bursts out of him. “No you’re not.”

“I am, really! I’m very sorry for, um, stepping on your boot like that. I’ll have it cleaned and polished if you’d like. Just please let me go. Please?”

“I don’t think so.”

Wriothesley starts to pull you into motion again and you reel back against his hold even when it makes his thick, blocky fingers sink into the meat of your arm. “Wait! I promise I’m sorry, I really, really am! I didn’t mean it! I swear!”

Breathing out a patient sigh through his nose, he gently (surprisingly so) tugs you around to stand in front of him even when you stumble and drag your feet in a blithe attempt to avoid compliance. “You’re only sorry right now because you’re in trouble. I��m going to give you something to think about and a chance to reflect on your actions, and then you’ll really be sorry. Is that clear enough for you, miss?”

“You can’t do this …”

“Oh, but I can. Take a look around you and tell me where you’re standing. This is my fortress which means I get to make the rules here. If I decide bratty girls who like to run their mouths even after being told to calm down — repeatedly, might I add — need a spanking to get them in order then that is exactly what’s going to happen. And do let me remind you that I gave you plenty of chances to heed my warnings but you didn’t. You can thank your own attitude for getting you into this predicament.”

You try very hard to keep your expression in check but you’re pretty sure you fail rather miserably at it, and a flash of that vulnerable fear still manages to creep into your face. “I am not a child!” You insist, shuddering violently. “You can’t treat me like one! That’s not fair!”

“Oh, I’d say what’s not fair is barging in here like you own the place and not listening to a word I say. You’ve certainly acted like a child so I think I’m perfectly in my right to treat you like one now.”

Not giving you a chance to think of something else to say and further stall, Wriothesley suddenly swoops down and curls his arm around your thighs so he can yank you right up off your feet. You choke in surprise as much as at the sudden rush of movement, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when he straightens up with you clutched across his front. Stinging hot tears flood your eyes all at once and you seethe, kicking and flailing, as he effortlessly carries you back around to the desk. It’s like you barely weigh anything in his arms which neither shudder or strain to hold you no matter how wildly you try to fight him. Even when he takes his seat again he still manages to much too easily manhandle you into place across his lap like you weren’t even struggling with every single ounce of strength you possessed.

In shockingly quick order you find yourself spread across his legs, on your tummy, but still you hiss and twist until his hand abruptly strikes across your upturned ass again. You jump so hard you nearly collapse right then and there but the thick, burly arm now curled over your trembling body keeps you firmly in place when you lurch. Wheezing frantically, you try to push yourself upright but it’s no use, and his palm swats you over your pants again, rapidly draining you of the energy to keep up the effort any longer when it hurt so bad it seemed to rob you of the ability to even think straight. Mewling at the deep hurt, you jerk forward at the next strike and let out a pitiful, broken little sob.

“I warned you to stop.” He reminds you again, falling into an easy steady rhythm. Whap, whap, whap, whap. One cheek and then the next, each hit somehow worse than the last as the burning sting grows and spreads across your defenseless backside. Even your desperate squirming was not enough to dissuade him from finding his mark as he peppers your sit spots in quick, agonizing succession. “I gave you so many chances too, but you just wouldn’t listen. Why is that, huh? Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?”

“Please stop — oww! T - that hurts, you damn brute — oww!”

“Keep it up and I’m just going to keep adding more. When you can’t sit right for the next week you’ll think back on this, I promise you that.”

Clenching your teeth, you fiercely try to keep the tears at bay so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry but the intense, constant crack of his hand on your ass soon wins out and they start to track wet lines down your burning face. You sniffle sadly and weakly kick your legs out behind you, making an attempt to curl them up and shield your already sore behind, but he just roughly tugs you further across his lap. Abruptly finding yourself slipping forward to half dangle over the side of the chair, you gasp and mindlessly stiffen up across his lap to stop your balance from tipping. That quickly proves to be a mistake though when the tense way you’re now holding your body just seems to make it hurt even worse, and you plaintively shake your head with a wordless shriek.

“Please stop it, your — ah! Your grace! I’m begging, I can’t — oww!”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you kept acting up.”

Whap, whap, whap, whap

“Ow, ow, owowow, ow! You’re … you’re doing it too hard! Stop it!”

Wriothesley chuckles somewhere far above you, the low timber of his voice blanketing over your muddied senses to make you shiver. “Actually, I don’t think I’m going hard enough yet. Not for the way you were behaving. Not to worry though, all in due time. This is just the warm up, after all.”

You go stock still across his legs, your heart skipping a long, harrowing beat. A warm up - -

“Yeow! Sto - ah - ahhhp! Please!”

Whap, whap, whap, whap

Hanging your head low, you openly sob and kick at the air now, clutching his thick boot with one hand while the other hangs onto the chair leg in a death grip to somewhat steady yourself. The sharp stabs of pain seem to chip away at your consciousness bit by bit, each slap of his massive hand taking with it a little piece of you each time it recedes. You’re so dazed by the constant onslaught that you almost don’t notice when he abruptly pauses and grabs under your arms.

Then you’re suddenly being hauled up and forced to stand on legs that immediately threaten to give out under you but Wriothesley just guides you around to stand between his legs. Furiously trying to wipe the evidence of tears from your face with a sleeve, you blearily watch as he brings his hands up to unbutton the front of your pants which he unceremoniously tugs down your legs to leave them bunched around your ankles. You can’t help but gasp, your cheeks burning even hotter at having your panties suddenly exposed to him, but you don’t get the chance to so much as suck in a shuddering breath let alone actually voice your protests.

Just like that, he’s dragging you back down over his lap and you twist against his hold with renewed fervor, clawing viciously at any part of him you can reach. His palm mercilessly swatting you across the back of your underwear freezes you in place though, and you let out a high pitched, keening sound at this new level of hell he’s introduced you to. It’s so much worse without your slacks in the way and just the thin layer of cotton to protect you from the full brunt of his punishing slaps. You’re so caught up in trying to process the extent of it when he shifts over top of you that you don’t even think to shriek at him to stop — but then his unoccupied hand fists the material of your panties and yanks them up to pull firm against your screaming backside. You outright squawk and choke at the sensation only to realize what he’s doing a split second later when he swats your ass again and the hurt suddenly feels like it’s skin to skin.

Howling in distress, you jerk and writhe against his legs but Wriothesley’s hold on your underwear effectively stops you from crawling away. You simply can’t escape it and the space between your ears is soon once again filled with the sharp swat! of his hand lighting you up. It was easily the worst thing you’d ever experienced, even putting aside the inherent humiliation of being spanked over his knee with your pants around your ankles.

“Waaa - aahhaaaaaa! Your grace, I - I’m sorry … owwww!”

“Are you now?” He murmurs, punctuating the soft tone of his voice with two blistering slaps, one to each cheek to leave you withering in his hold. “And what are you sorry for, little miss? Come on, speak up.”

That was incredibly difficult to do when he wasn’t letting up on your ass for even a moment but, hoping against hope that placating him might make this end quicker, you suck in a haggard, gasping breath to steady yourself. “I’m sorry for - eek! I’m sorry for all the rude things I said to you earlier! Oww! I - I shouldn’t have come in here and - ahh! Ahh! I shouldn’t have disrespected you in your fortress, your grace! I promise I’m sorry!”

“And what else?”

What else? What else even was there!

You desperately try to think, to figure it out, but your head is swimming so fast you start to think you might pass out. Loosing a broken moan, you agonizingly kick back and try to find purchase on the floor, only succeeding in half sliding off his knee. He easily readjusts his hold and rather meanly pulls harder on your panties though, making you squeal when they dig into your cunt and it essentially forces you to straighten your legs instead of slouching away from the continuous barrage of his hand. You choke on some kind of mindless animal sound and try to shove yourself forward in your desperation but he just spanks you even harder for the trouble.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know!” You cry out, dancing on the tips of your toes as if that would somehow alleviate some of the deep, throbbing ache encompassing your rear end. “I don’t know your grace, I don’t know but I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You just barely manage to catch the sound of him clicking his tongue over your wailing. “How can you be sorry for something if you don’t even know what it is? You’re really not taking this seriously, are you?”

“I am!”

He stops so abruptly you lurch, gasping, as if he’d followed through on delivering the next blow. Shuddering uncontrollably, you warily twist to look over your shoulder with big, wet eyes to watch him fold your panties down over your ass to join your slacks around your ankles. Realizing what he’s doing your fight or flight instincts seem to kick in like never before, and you hysterically wrench against his hold. To your stumbling surprise you actually manage to slip free for a split second, for the span of but a single heartbeat, and then he’s reaching up before you can get your trembling legs to cooperate and he roughly tucks you down across his thigh again. This time with that heavy, corded steel arm locked around your waist.

“Wait, wait, wait - -“

Smack!

Your ass promptly erupts in splinters, every single nerve ending in your behind vibrating numbly at the impact. It punches the air right out of your lungs, leaves you gasping for even a sliver of air, but he doesn’t give you a chance to fully process the hurt. Smack, smack, smack, smack! The crack of his hand across your bare skin sounds deafening now and you shake uncontrollably as you cry out in unrestrained agony. Back and forth between each burning red, swollen cheek, he pays equal attention to both sides until it feels like the tingling flesh is quite literally on fire. You writhe against the blinding hurt and sob so hard the shudders wrack through you from head to toe even as you weakly try to push up and squeeze through his arm. It’s no use though. Wriothesley’s hold is as good as iron and all you can do is wrench at each blistering crack without any way to escape it.

“Well?” He expectantly prompts, but you’re a little too far gone in the swimming daze to properly respond now, just noising a series of incomprehensible whines and mewls with every strike. Quickly picking up that you were slipping under now, he breathes out a stilted sigh. “If there is but one thing you take away from this,” He intones, still bringing his palm down again and again, and again. “Let it be to pick your opponents more wisely in the future. You don’t just get to walk in here and start calling the shots, do you understand me?”

You croak out something that might be a yes, incomprehensibly slurred between all the tears and snot running down your face, and the sad little hiccups making your throat constrict. That seems to be good enough for him though, and he just presses on.

“I was nice enough to invite you to come to Meropide,” smack, smack, smack, smack “Even though I could have turned you down right from the start. I already knew your little pet project wasn’t going to pan out,” smack, smack, smack, smack “But I figured I’d at least hear you out first and this is how you decided to repay me? Despite what you probably think, I don’t like having to punish people,” smack, smack, smack, smack “But I’m not about to let some upstart little brat come in here and try to tell me what my inmates need. You don’t know the first thing about this place no matter what all your worthless charts tell you.”

Smack, smack, smack! Smack!

You flinch, weakly rocking forward when the next slap never comes. Groaning thickly, you squirm and dance on your feet, trying to shake off some of the discomfort even though it’s useless, but still he just sits there. You’re distantly aware of him breathing a bit heavier than before, either worked up from the act itself or the physical exertion of delivering a sound spanking, and you just whine low in your throat at the resounding throb throughout your body. It seems to claw through you and set every single nerve to trembling vibration, leaving you quaking violently in his hold.

Finally, what feels like an eternity later, Wriothesley draws a steadying inhale. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Y - yes …” You croak out with no shortage of effort, but his blocky fingers just dig into your hip to give you a brief jostle

“Wanna’ try that again?”

Your already strained heartbeat somehow manages to become even more wild at the panic that rushes in to smother over you. What did he want? Would he spank you again if you didn’t figure out the answer?

“Yes, sir?”

“That’s better.” He relents, giving your shuddering thigh an amicable pat. Silence descends over the office for a drawn out beat and then he suddenly leans forward, half dragging you with him while he opens one of the drawers on the desk to rummage around. “I don’t think you’re really sorry, not yet. But you will be soon. I know I have that damn hairbrush Sigewinne gave me somewhere.”

A hairbrush?

Your blood turns to ice at the implication, and the fresh wave of fear that abruptly grips you in a chokehold seems to clear some of the fog from your head. You could think just a little bit clearer now and you did not like where your thoughts were going, not one bit. Surely he wouldn’t actually take it that far after already abusing your ass so much with his hand.

“Your g - grace?”

Ignoring or just not hearing the weak little mouse squeak, Wriothesley settles back into his chair again, grabbing a pinching handful of your inner thigh to drag it over his knee once more. He doesn’t quite force your body across his lap but he does make sure you’re stretched out in a rather inelegant sprawl that leaves your legs embarrassingly spread and you start to shake in earnest now. You hadn’t thought it was possible for the human body to vibrate at such a high frequency but that's exactly what seems to be happening as the crushing reality of the situation gradually settles over you like a shroud.

And then, the press of something solid and flat touches your burning ass, and you practically jolt right up off his legs altogether.

Your skin crawls with it making you feel truly sick and nauseous even as you frantically try to twist your neck around to see. He’s got you at such an awkward angle though that you can’t make out much of anything and your panic rapidly starts to ratchet up into damn near a full on attack until he gently taps the object against your behind to pull your attention back into the moment.

“I’m going to give you twenty spanks with this brush, little miss. I want you to count them, and don’t forget to show me some respect while you do it.”

“I - I - I can’t, sir, I can’t, I can’t take anymore, p - please, it’s too much - -“

“Hush. I’ve got you,” He coos, unexpectedly gentle and soft, but it doesn’t do much to ease your heaving gasps or the erratic pounding of your heart. Still, you find yourself grudgingly getting pulled into that tender croon and you make a conscious effort to calm down even as you sway unsteadily over his thigh. “You’re alright. You’ll just get yourself all worked up over nothing acting like that. Deep breaths. That’s it. Now take another for me. Good girl. See? You can listen when you want to. It’s not so bad, is it?”

He offers the pudge around your hip a reassuring, possibly even approving squeeze when your breathing starts to slow to a normal, wheezing pant rather than the thin lungfulls you’d been sucking in just moments ago. You decidedly disliked him a great deal, perhaps more so than you’d ever disliked any one single person in all your life, but you were at least glad he was able to keep you grounded. Never mind the fact he was the cause of it to begin with, you were just thankful it didn’t feel like you were going throw up and pass out anymore.

And still the throbbing burn across your ass keeps pulling tiny little whimpers from your dry throat. It really was too much.

“Is it necessary?” You finally manage to rattle out.

“The brush? In my eyes it is, yes. This will show me whether or not you’ve been paying attention this whole time, if you can be respectful towards me throughout this last leg even though you’ll probably want to curse me to high heaven and back. If you can tell me you’re really sorry when we’re done then it will be over. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Groaning in defeat, you hang your head low and just take a moment to think. Your options were regretfully limited but … you wanted to trust him at his word and, more importantly, you just wanted to have it done and over with already. The pain crawling across your backside was immeasurable, gradually receding to a dull, distant, but no less teeth clattering ache that reminded you it was there with every thrumming pulse, and he was right to say you wanted to curse him for it. You would have given anything to do just that but Wriothesley had made it clear what he expected of you. Obedience, compliance, respect.

Perhaps you should have expected no less from the reclusive Duke of Meropide but you certainly would not be making this mistake again.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into the stillness at last, a sort of numb surprise curling over you at the lack of bite in your own voice. You’d expected to hear bitter tears, anger, defensive pride, not … such a soft, almost shaky little note of submission.

The very idea that his unjust treatment of you had somehow accomplished exactly what it was meant to chills you almost as much as it brings you a strange sense of comfort which he only further enforces by warmly caressing his unoccupied palm over the curve of your bare waist.

“Good. Then let’s get started.”

An expectant pause and then — whap!

You violently lurch, dizzy and disoriented from the sudden intensity of the impact. It was so different from his hand, so hard and unforgiving that it made your stomach feel like it was about to burst right up out of your throat. Reeling and weakly gasping in the aftermath, you futilely arch against the sting, kicking your legs out, but there’s no escaping it or shaking it off. The pain seems to engulf you all at once, making you choke on a haggard, gutted little sound. Like you couldn’t even scream around it and only whimper in breathless, mind numbing agony.

“O - one, sir.” You finally manage to rattle out to his humming satisfaction.

Whap! On the other sore cheek.

“Oh! Oh, oh, oooohhhh, n - nnghhnhn!! Two, sir …”

Whap! Back to the first. Whap! The second again.

You can’t quite formulate the words now, just laying there spread out on Wriothesley’s lap while your legs uncontrollably shake and you suck in quick, faltering thin gasps of air in an attempt to reorient yourself. It was like the sharp, oppressively heavy stroke of the wooden brush was knocking your brain around and making it hard just to remember how to breathe. Sniffling back a rush of fresh tears, however, you force your mind to stay focused in the here and now rather than drifting off to some faraway place where you currently weren’t getting your ass beat. And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Why he was making you count like this, to keep you firmly planted and present to ensure your attention didn’t start to slip at the first chance and you remained attentive for this final part of your trial. The sadistic bastard.

“Four, sir …”

Whap! Whap!

“O - oooh, gods … s - six, sir.”

Whap! Whap!

You have to take a moment to collect yourself, to breathe through the sickening pain that encompasses your backside, and he waits patiently until you eventually lift your head again. “Eight, sir.”

Whap!

“Eeekk! Ahh, ah … nine — ahhn, sir!”

Dazed and more than just a little lost in the hazy delirium swimming around your head, you slowly start to find and grasp at a tiny fraction of your inner strength. Your voice comes quicker, albeit thinner, as you hold your breath tightly over the course of the next few swats of the brush, finally seeing an end in sight just over the horizon. A few more and then you would be done. You could leave this place and never see the duke again for as long as you lived.

“Fifteen, sir!” You hear yourself blurt out, nearly sobbing in relief only to choke on it when the next swing cracks down on the opposite cheek a second later. Seething viciously, you shake for a moment before gritting out the next number. And the next.

You’re practically hysterical when you finally get to nineteen, all but blubbering across his lap, but you take the last strike like a champ, squealing a cursory, “Twenty, sir!” And then immediately giving in to the urge to dance on your toes, trying in vain to chase away some of the skin crawling ache by moving around. He leans back into the chair, just giving you a moment to process it on your own terms, before eventually loosening his arm around your middle so he can help you up. You move gingerly and wheeze through the process of getting your jelly filled legs underneath you but, at last, you find yourself standing between the wide spread of his knees and you cautiously reach back to rub your sore bottom.

You regret it immediately, hissing at the intense heat coming off the abused skin as much as the stabs of pain just brushing your fingertips against the tender area causes. But before you can truly process the full brunt of it, he takes your wrist in hand and tugs it away from your behind so he can hold it between the two of you instead.

“You’re welcome to try but it isn’t going to do much to take away any of the pain. You’ll have that reminder in the back of your mind for the next few days, any time you sit or your clothes rub against it.” A pause while he studies you with that frustratingly impassive expression, taking in your wet face, the clumps of your eyelashes where they’re sticking together, the distant look in your eyes. He takes it all in and then offers you a small, brief smile. “Are you sorry now?”

You almost choose petulant silence but, not wanting to tempt fate any further, you slowly nod your head. “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry for how I acted towards you today, and for not listening when you told me to stop. I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl.” Giving your fingers a quick squeeze, he reaches down to take hold of your hips in both of his massive hands and carefully guide you back a step so he can rise to his feet as well. “Alright, go stand in the corner. Face the wall and keep your cute bottom uncovered.”

Immediately planting your feet into the floor when he tries to nudge you in the general direction of the wall, you send him a flustered look of warning. “You said that would be the end of it.”

“It was, and you did so well for someone whom I suspect hasn’t been spanked nearly enough in her lifetime. But,” Wriothesley quickly holds up a hand to stop you when you draw a sharp, scathing breath to snap at him with. “It’s usually customary to give you a chance to further reflect on your punishment while the sting settles the rest of the way in. Besides, I need to run down to the infirmary to get a cream for your butt and you can’t very well sit down right now, can you?”

“You are infuriating!” You practically spit at him, fists clenching with the urge to reach out and punch him square in the solar plexus. “What exactly do you think this is, your grace? A fun little afternoon we’ve shared together over tea and gossip? I don’t want your stupid cream! I want to leave this place and never be forced to look upon you ever again, do you hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you loud and clear.” Wriothesley murmurs with an accompanying quirk of his brow to go along with it. “Gotta’ say though, I wasn’t expecting you to bounce right back to your earlier attitude so fast. Usually brats like you need a bit more time to recoup some of their charge after getting it all out of their system like that.”

You reel back in abject shock. “Brats like me? You have some nerve acting like I’m the problem when you just - -“

He reaches up quicker than you can react and abruptly pulls you into the front of him, one hand lifting to cradle your head against the firm, muscular wall of his body while the other curls around your back so you can’t escape. Your skin positively crawls at the contact, lips pulling back in a vicious snarl, but then … he just gently rocks you back and forth, softly petting your hair while he does it, and you go stock still in your surprise. You didn’t understand it. What he was doing or why he was doing it, and you understood even less why it almost made you feel a bit — funny inside. Tingly, almost.

“There, there,” Wriothesley murmurs, just holding you tightly enough to prevent escape but still soft enough not to smother. “Is this what you need instead? I didn’t take you for the sort but I have no problem giving it to you as long as it gets rid of that grumpy frown for a little while. You’re way cuter when you don’t look so damn mad …”

You stand there for a long beat unsure of how to react. Knowing you should kick up a fit, fight him tooth and nail, drag his name through the mud for how he’s treated you here today and yet — somehow the heat of his body, the heady scent of his muted cologne seems to drain the fight from your body. It leaves you feeling empty and hollow, and a sudden rush of emotions quickly floods in to replace it all. You don’t really understand it, nor are you entirely sure you want to, but you were a little too tired to keep up the pretense any longer. Not while there was a veritable storm whipping up inside your chest.

Eyes watering with a new, inexplicable sheen of tears, you slowly bring your hands up to clutch at his waistcoat. Maybe it would be okay if you entertained this for just another moment longer … maybe you could attack him when his guard was down after you’d finished fighting back the sobs suddenly threatening to wrack through your body. He’d chipped away at you, wiped the slate clean, so to speak, and now he was filling you back up with a comforting warmth you wouldn’t have expected from him given his icy demeanor.

You still weren’t particularly fond of his methods but at least there was some amount of peace to be found in his embrace, and you may or may not have liked it just a teeny tiny bit. Not that you’d ever admit that to Wriothesley, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You could certainly keep the secret.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

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icyg4l · 13 days

Text

PAC: Is Your Circle Trustworthy?

Hello beautiful people! I am so sorry for the wait, I've been busy with just enjoying what life has to offer. I really hope that you all are doing good! Today's reading is inspired by the people that are/were in my life that I've considered friends. I think that we all go through a period of time where we're questioning the people in our circles. Maybe it's because we're going through a period of transition, experiencing successes, experiencing painful moments, etc. I think that there is nothing wrong with this because we're all human at the end of the day. What aligns with us will stay, what doesn't will go. Also, please check out my Five Dollar Friday sale. It would mean a lot to me! Thank you! So with that being said, please pick the quote that resonates with you, my dear!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: I think some of you work in an elderly home/nursing home. Maybe you’re working on getting your degree in nursing. I heard the line from Beyonce’s ‘Hold Up’ where she says “Something don’t feel right / ‘Cause it ain’t right”. I don’t think you guys have a good discernment. You don’t trust yourself so in return, you attract some questionable people. I get the feeling that you guys are like the friend that doesn’t know how to say no, so you end up getting taken advantage of. You guys remind me of a friend that I had once. I think that you need to start owning your power, realizing your worth. You can do this by spending more time by yourself. Once you start seeing how people interact with you as you step into your true self, you will see who stays and who will go. There is nothing wrong with a fresh start. You need to get real though. You need to clean house, babe. Nothing is permanent, so don’t force yourself to stick in a situation that you don’t need to be in.

Cards Used: 8 of Swords (RX), The Moon, The Devil, Queen of Discs, Strength, 4 of Swords, The Chariot.

extras: “the underdog”. independent not by choice. meditation. saturn in the 1st house. looking at the moon. empire (2015). solar system. planetarium. “they don’t wanna see me smile”. oh happy day.

Pile Two: I feel like you guys are going to a concert soon. You could have made up with a friend that you fell out with and now you’re wondering if they have good intentions this time. They have changed for the better, I see. It takes two to tango is the energy that I am getting from this. There’s no fingers to point here. You both did your dirt but after some time apart, you’ve come to acknowledge your part in the ending of the friendship. I think that you guys have a good circle around you within this friendship and outside of your friendship. But you guys do not need to befriend your co-workers. Keep that to a minimum. This goes for any classmates that you think are cool too, lol. I see that you’ll be turned off by their behavior very quickly. But you have a good circle overall, just don’t let your ego ruin your friendships. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Cards Used: 5 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Ace of Cups, 9 of Cups, Temperance, The Sun.

extras: childhood best friends. autism. “stand back!” thumbs down. 2009. new boyz.

Pile Three: For this pile, I heard “divinely orchestrated”. I think your circle is perfect just the way it is. You are spiritually bonded to the people that are your friends right now. They have pure intentions. This could be your chosen family. You’ve chosen correctly. For some of you, your circle consists of mostly your biological family. Your guides approve of the people around you so much. I think that you will be lifelong friends with these people. I am seeing some distance between you and these people though, physical distance to be exact. Did you move or are you planning to move? I feel like your circle wants you to make the move if you haven’t. They see that you are bored and fed up with your current environment. They will always be there for you. You’re right where you need to be and you have the support around you, just do it!

Cards Used: Temperance, 10 of Pentacles, 7 of Discs, King of Cups, The Hierophant, Ace of Discs.

extras: polaroid cameras. divinity. todrick hall. twitter memes. “fall flat”. chasing fame. smalltown girl.

Pile Four: At one point, your circle was perfect for you. But I think that you have outgrown it. I feel like at the beginning of this friendship, you were insecure. Perhaps, you and these other people bonded over traumas or a common enemy/disdain for something. Maybe you were both impulsive teenagers who hated the world. Now, you don’t want this friendship in your life anymore. You’ve done some soul searching. This person is still on the same shit. Now there is some tension that has risen between the two of you. You want more for yourself, but this person doesn’t. If you don’t cut this person/these people off, they will take you down with them. I feel like this person is immature. They lack the emotional maturity to see how their lack of growth is detrimental to this friendship. They don’t really appreciate it like they should. I feel like this person has ego trips that you’re just now noticing. I heard, “Don’t save her / She don’t wanna be saved”. This person is judgmental and it’s best that you get away from them for your own good. I am channeling the energy of Nancy from The Craft. This person could be doing witchcraft on you if you know they engage in that stuff. Be careful, Pile Four.

Cards Used: Judgment, The Empress (RX), Justice, 2 of Discs, The Moon, The Hierophant (RX), 10 of Discs, The Hermit.

extras: beignets. spiritual/religious awakening. take me to church by hozier. army-bound. powerful.

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vergess · 14 days

Note

Please, please explain how to install and use linux like I'm 5 years old. I'm so sick of windows adding AI and other bullshit to my already struggling elderly laptop but I'm really not good with computers at all so I have no idea where to start with Linux.

Okay, so, I'm going to break this down into steps I would give the average tumblr user first, and then if any of them are confusing or use words you don't understand, ask me and I'll explain that step in greater detail.

Step 0) BACK. UP. YOUR. SHIT.

NEVER EVER EVER CHANGE YOUR OPERATING SYSTEM WITHOUT A COMPLETE BACKUP OF ALL YOUR FILES.

Step 1) Learn your machine. You need to know:

How much RAM you have

If your processor is 32 or 64 bit

How big your hard drive is

On windows, you can find out all of this by going to the start menu, typing "about" and opening the first result on your system instead of the internet.

For additional instructions, visit this page.

Step 2) Pick your Linux.

There's like 10,000 kinds of Linux, each tailored to particular functions that the end-user (that is you!) might want to have. The sheer amount is very daunting, so first I'm going to give my suggestions, then I'll explain how to pick for yourself.

For Mac users, I suggest Kubuntu. For windows users, I suggest Mint Cinnamon. If your laptop is really REALLY old, I recommend Sparky Stable, which is the lightest weight Linux I would ever suggest for a new user. In every case, download the version suited to your processor (32 bit can be labelled "x86" or "32 bit"; 64 bit is always labelled "64 bit").

If you want to try a different type of linux, you'll need to make sure your laptop meets the "minimum specs" or "system requirements." These numbers tell you how much RAM, processor and hard drive space the linux will use. (That's why you needed those numbers at the beginning.)

Step 3) Collect your supplies. You're going to need:

An ISO burning program compatible with your current system, like Balena Etcher.

A copy of the ISO file for the Linux you want to use.

Your laptop.

An 8gb or larger USB flash drive.

Step 3) Make a bootable USB drive

Install Balena Etcher, hitting "okay" and "next" when prompted. Last I checked, Etcher doesn't have adware attached, so you can just hit next every time.

Plug your USB drive into the laptop.

Open Etcher.

Click "flash from file" and open the ISO file with your Linux on it.

Click "Select target" and open the USB drive location. Hit the "flash" button. This will start writing all the linux installer data to your flash drive. Depending on the speed of your machine, this could take as long as 10 minutes, but shouldn't be much longer.

Step 4) Boot to the USB drive

This is, in my opinion, the trickiest step for a lot of people who don't do "computer stuff." Fortunately, in a rare act of good will, Windows 10 made this process a lot easier.

All you'll need to do is go to settings, then recovery, then advanced startup and pick the button labelled "use a device."

This tutorial has images showing where each of those is located. It's considered an "advanced setting" so you may get a spooky popup warning you that you could "harm your system by making changes" but we're not doing anything potentially harmful so you can ignore that if you get it.

Step 5) Try out linux on the flash drive first.

Linux installs using a cool little test version of itself that you can play around in. You won't be able to make changes or save settings, but you can explore a bit and see if the interface is to your liking. If it's hideous or hard to navigate, simply pick a new linux version to download, and repeat the "make a bootable USB" step for it.

Step 6) Actually install that sucker

This step varies from version to version, but the first part should be the same across the board: on the desktop, there should be a shortcut that says something like "install now." Double click it.

Follow the instructions your specific linux version gives you. When in doubt, pick the default, with one exception:

If it asks you to encrypt your drive say no. That's a more advanced feature that can really fuck your shit up down the road if you don't know how to handle it.

At some point you're going to get a scary looking warning that says 1 of 2 things. Either:

Install Linux alongside Windows, or

Format harddrive to delete all data

That first option will let you do what is called "dual booting." From then on, your computer will ask every time you turn it on whether you want Windows or Linux.

The second option will nuke Windows from orbit, leaving only linux behind.

The install process is slower the larger your chosen version is, but I've never seen it take more than half an hour. During that time, most linux versions will have a little slideshow of the features and layout of common settings that you can read or ignore as you prefer.

Step 7) Boot to your sexy new Linux device.

If you're dual booting, use the arrow keys and enter key to select your linux version from the new boot menu, called GRUB.

If you've only got linux, turn the computer on as normal and linux will boot up immediately.

Bonus Step: Copy Pasting some code

In your new start menu, look for an application called "terminal" or "terminal emulator." Open that up, and you will be presented with an intense looking (but actually very harmless) text command area.

Now, open up your web browser (firefox comes pre-installed on most!), and search the phrase "what to do after installing [linux version you picked]"

You're looking for a website called "It's FOSS." Here's a link to their page on Mint. This site has lots and lots of snippets of little text commands you can experiment with to learn how that functionality works!

Or, if you don't want to fuck with the terminal at all (fair enough!) then instead of "terminal" look for something called "software manager."

This is sort of like an app store for linux; you can install all kinds of programs directly from there without needing to go to the website of the program itself!

#Asks #Answered asks #octopusdreamsofaquaticsheep

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norrisleclercf1 · 10 months

Note

would you please be able to do Lando x best freind reader where she come to a race with him and she has a medical condition ( epilepsy, diabetes ) and maybe has a seizure or a hypo while in the paddock and Lando helps her. Hope this fits in with you’re guildlines.

Warnings: Hypoglycemia attack due to diabetes, I do not have diabetes, but I've learned it in nursing school but it's not my area of expertise

It was so stupid, you knew it was stupid. It's been hot, you haven't been drinking water, nor eating and you missed checking your blood sugar.

If Lando wasn't in the car, he'd be yelling at you like a mother hen as he checks your blood sugar. He'd be cramming water down your throat making you cool down, and then small snacks in intervolves to not shock your system.

Sitting down, you wipe the sweat off your forehead thinking it's just from the hot weather. "Are you okay?" Someone's muffled voice asks you, nodding your head you wave them off watching the feet walk out of your view.

Closing your eyes, you try to get the dizziness to pass but if anything your head spins more. Everything becomes a ringing sound, not even aware of a F1 car pulling up and then dragged in.

Muffled voices, loud draw closer when strong hands grab your arms. Prying open your eyes, tired beyond belief. Wanting to do nothing more than sleep.

"Y/n? Y/n! Open your eyes." Whining you try to swat away the person yelling at you. "Goddamn it! I told you to watch her! Didn't you notice she was like this!" The worried voice snaps, through the haze you make out it's Lando.

"Man, everyone is sweating it's boiling hot. I didn't notice till now, here's her glucose reader."

Lando bends down, pulling you close as he pricks your finger, cursing as he waits for it to beep and show the number. "Fucking christ. You're 60 mg/dL trying to kill yourself." He hisses.

Digging around in your bag he finds your insulin, measuring out the correct dosage, but stops cursing. "Someone get me apple or orange juice! Now!" Hurried feet move around you as Lando whispers that you're going to be okay.

Coldness meets your lips, the sugary burst of orange juice meets your lips, forcing you to drink. Slowly but surely you start to perk up. Lando says nothing, as he moves to better air conditioning forcing more juice down your throat watching the color return.

"God, you scared me." He whispers pulling you into him, keeping a very close eye on you for the rest of the weekend

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

part iii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (word count; 4800)

warning for this chapter: more explicit violence, physical abuse directed at felix.

When his dark roots start to show, Felix attempts to bleach his own hair. You ask why the aesthetic choice is so important.

“I just don’t like the dark,” he says with a toothy, too-casual smile.

You watch from the open bathroom door as he accidentally turns himself into a red-head. He fingers a vibrant red-orange strand, cocks his head, shrugs, and smiles.

His hair is a shifting mess of yellow-orange-red over the next two years. The nightmares start halfway through.

The first one frightens you awake as Felix shoots upright in a sweaty panic. A startled shriek claws up your throat and comes out raspy, your sleepy eyes darting around in the dark for an intruder only to realize the room is empty.

Felix slumps against the headboard, wiping his forehead. The fiery strands of his bangs are sticking to his face and his hands are shaking so uncharacteristically. Felix only occasionally loses his cool and even then, his retorts are curt and sarcastic rather than emotional. It is the first time you have ever see him like this, so small and so very human, and all you can do is stare until he gets his breathing under control.

“Are you okay?” you ask each other at the same time.

“Me?” you croak. “You were the one who just—”

“It was just a dream,” he says, in that clipped tone when his patience runs out. His breathing is still a little shaky. He goes to the bathroom then makes his rounds to check the security system, even though it is close to four in the morning. Your own adrenaline is still dwindling so you are awake when he gets back in bed.

You don’t know how to comfort someone. No one has ever comforted you in a substantial way. Even if they tried, you would probably rebuff it in confusion. You are certain Felix will do the same thing. He does not like focussing on himself.

But he is radiating so much stress and tension that you can feel it burning off him like a heat wave. He lays stiffly on his back and closes his eyes, pretending to sleep. You know if you say anything about it, he will ignore you.

You look at him thoughtfully, then you say in the smallest voice you can, “Felix, I’m scared.”

His eyes pop open, his brow immediately furrowed in concern. He looks at you and offers a hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, like nothing was amiss with him.

“Bad dreams too,” you say. Your nightmares have never caused you to wake so violently, but you do occasionally have them. You are in the habit of burrowing deep in your blankets and staring at Felix until you fall asleep, calmed by his presence.

Somehow, some way, you have found comfort in that silent company.

“Can you hold me, please?” you say.

You say it because his hand is clammy and cold in yours, despite all the heat of his anxiety. You say it because his forehead is still damp and his breathing is a little laboured. You say it because if you offer a hug, he will say he doesn’t need it, but he does.

Maybe he falls for it, knowing you have a good reason to have nightmares too. Maybe he sees through your ruse and doesn’t care right now. But he nods and tugs you closer.

A year of sharing a bed, not to mention every minute of the day, has made you a little thoughtless in regards to easy proximity, but this embrace is much more deliberate. You feel very aware of the way he fits around you. His arm loops around your shoulders and you hug his waist, your head fitting perfectly in the crook under his chin.

You realize you have never hugged anyone like this. You initiated contact for his sake, but the cradle of his arms and the warmth of his body relaxes your own tension. It feels like a great exhale, both of you releasing a breath you had been holding for a long time.

A part of you wants to shove him away. You think it would be very easy to find his embrace addicting and that is a weakness you cannot afford to have. You know this, he must know this, but you’re tired, so you fall asleep wrapped around him.

The next time he wakes with a nightmare, you don’t have to say anything. He pulls you close and you fall asleep with your head on his chest. By now you are used to him – behind you in class, beside you in the car, across the kitchen counter, standing at the bathroom sink, laying on the other side of your shared bed – so you let yourself drift, caught in the undertow of his comfortable presence, and you fall asleep like that.

Again and again.

His nightmares get worse before they get better. For a few months, Felix wakes every other night with a startled burst. He never talks about it. Sometimes he grounds himself and plasters on a bad smile, but it never fools you.

He always checks the security system after. One night he doesn’t return and you imagine the worst, plagued by fears that will seem nonsensical in daylight but pose a very real threat in the darkness. You turn on every light as you stumble down the corridor, a blanket around your shoulders, too frightened to shout his name as you shuffle along.

You find him in the gym. Felix is as strict with his daily regimen as every other protocol, from diet to exercise and back, so the sight of him sweating buckets in the house gym is not unusual. But it being three in the morning, coupled with the nightmares and your anxiety, makes you erupt with feelings you cannot articulate.

You are relieved he is here. You hate that you are relieved. You hate that you were afraid at all. You hate that you wanted him beside you when you should be relieved in his absence. When did it all get so backwards? He still reports to your father. You should still hate his presence. You shouldn’t be here, shaking, furious that he abandoned you.

You throw the blanket on the floor and the motion catches his eye. He turns, pushing his sweaty red hair off his forehead. His face contorts in funny ways before he forces himself to smile.

“Come back to bed,” you say before he can voice a stupid platitude. “Now.”

His smile disappears. He stands there for a moment, breathing hard, just looking at you. Then he nods.

He showers and gets back in bed. You are wide awake, but you stubbornly lay with your back to him. You say and do nothing when he slides up behind you, crossing the vast space of that big bed to curl himself around you.

“You’re safe in the house,” he says. “You don’t have to worry.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He is silent for a long moment. He shifts behind you then exhales, his warm breath fluttering over your neck.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he says. That’s not your job, is the unspoken addition your brain supplies. Because Felix shouldn’t care about you either. This is just a job. You have no real obligation to each other.

His arm is around your waist. He breathes out again.

“The nightmares,” he finally says. “It’s not… I think it’s just… Before this, everyday, there was a lot going in my life, yeah? And not… not good things. But now things are… calm… compared to that so I think it’s just… catching up to me. Um. I was going too fast before but now I’m… I’m just here.”

You know he won’t tell you what those nightmares entail. If you ask me, I’ll tell you, I will never lie to you, he once said.

You are too afraid to ask. It is scary enough, laying in his arms, at once adrift and secure. Scarier still to turn around and hide your face in his neck. You do anyway.

He strokes your back, a feather-soft touch, up and down. It becomes a familiar pattern, absent-minded. One night he touches you with that lazy caress while talking about nothing particular. Neither of you can sleep, but his low voice and gentle touch lulls you into a hazy in-between world.

You grab his hand and put it up the back of your shirt, not really thinking. You do not mean to be suggestive and realize too late it could be misconstrued. You are too embarrassed to apologize, laying there with a warm face pressed against his chest, his hand on your back. He stops talking and his hand freezes, fingers splayed on your bare spine.

You have never spoken aloud about how this kind of hugging is too intimate, even if it is innocent, considering what you are supposed to be to each other.

After a moment, he continues, his touch still gentle. You almost forget he is not a gentle boy, that he wouldn’t be here if he was. You fall asleep soon after.

You see your father less these days, no longer in trouble with the same frequency. It makes you understand Felix, the way he spoke about nightmares catching up to him. Over the years, your wounds have seldom had time to heal before they re-opened, both literally and emotionally. Now you have time to scab.

Those poorly stitched wounds start to fester.

One night, you and Felix have an argument. It is a petty, inconsequential quarrel in the greater scheme of things, and it ends with him rolling his eyes.

Irritation is an itch under your skin, worsened by your ongoing state of aggravation. When he goes to the gym for his work-out, trusting you to keep your own routine, you simply walk out the front door. You know he will track you down but it’s the principle of the thing.

Your act of petty retribution spirals out of control when your father gets home at the same time you are trying to leave. One of his men literally snatches you in the driveway. Your adrenaline was already running high from the argument, so you are a thrashing bundle of limbs as they carry you into the house.

Your father is frighteningly quiet on the walk to his home office. All at once you recognize this countenance. It has nothing to do with you, but his business. Something went wrong today, however menial or substantial, and his rage is an icy current. You slipped and tumbled headfirst into the flood.

You stop fighting. You try to muster the same icy resolve as he seats himself on the couch in the office.

In a way, you are almost relieved. It has been so long since you last stood here, but you knew it would eventually happen. Now it isn’t hanging over you. Now your wounds aren’t festering. Now you can rip the messy scab right off and finally just bleed.

Your father pats the seat beside him on the couch. You have only just sat when he says to his own guard, “Find me Felix.”

Felix is waiting right outside the door like the dutiful little soldier he is. He is in his work-out clothes, baggy basketball shorts and a t-shirt, running shoes, his hair messy from exertion. There is a flush to his complexion and it makes him look his age, sixteen and bright-eyed. He is a stark contrast to your father’s guard, a grown man with a hardened face as stern and full as a pit-bull.

Felix looks at you, a momentary flicker of eye contact before he half-bows for your father. Then he straightens, robotic. He clasps his hands behind his back in the same pose as the adult guard.

The dramatic pageantry makes you huff. You know your father will mete out punishment regardless of what Felix has to say. You do not know what Felix includes his daily reports, only that he has kept you out of trouble, but his cleverness will not save you now. It never could, you remind yourself. The hugs, the intimacy, the careful threads of friendship unspooling strand by strand, day by day – it was never going to save you.

“My daughter is headstrong to a fault, isn’t she?” your father says.

Felix glances at you then averts his gaze entirely. He nods sharply, just once. “Sir,” he says, an acknowledgement.

“Mm.” Your father sits back in his seat, his casual posture denoting apathy. He is staring into space, rubbing his chin. You realize he has not spoken to you directly when he says, “You know what happens now, don’t you?” It seems like it should finally be directed at you, but his gaze is still on Felix.

Felix says nothing, though his brow is furrowed with some consternation. You stay quiet. Felix has seen your father punish you more than once now, and you cannot find it in yourself to feel embarrassed about it. Maybe Felix needs a reminder too. Or maybe he has known all along there was no real substance to your connection, that you would always end up here and he would always betray you with his professional stoicism.

“Sir,” Felix says again, as expected.

You roll your eyes and look away from them all. You hear the tell-tale clink of a belt. A frisson is already scratching down your spine, a phantom laceration of its own.

You have this script memorized, having played out this scene time and again. Your father’s guard will hand him a belt, the room will be emptied so you are alone with your father, and he will remove the disobedience and weakness from your body – and the frustration and weakness from his – one stroke at a time. You will leave, contrite and penitent in the freshness of pain and humiliation. It will fade with your scars. You will be back here again.

Your father grabs your face and jerks it back to him. As if reading your thoughts, he says, “It never sticks with you, does it? Not one single lesson.” He lets go with a sharp snap, your chin smarting. You refrain from touching it. “Felix brought this to my attention on his report. You know, you could learn a lesson on reflection from him.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. You feel sick in an unusual way, more affected than you want to be. Your father does not know or care if you have ever sought Felix for comfort, so he does not know or care if it hurts for Felix to betray you. Felix is doing his job and playing his part. Your father is playing his. He will make sure you learn to play yours.

And then your father says, “I agreed with his assertion. Punishing you like a child does nothing to teach you true consequences. Being my daughter puts you in a certain position in this world. Thanks to the work I have done, your place will always be above subordinate persons. When you make a mistake, when you step out of line, there will be consequences, and those consequences will not only affect you, but all those other people too.” He waves a hand and the motion draws your eye. “Felix,” he says.

The other guard approaches at your father’s gesture. The belt is folded over in his hand. Felix glances at it, his expression inscrutable, as if a shadow has fallen over his brow. He does not look at you again, even when your attention focusses on him.

Your stomach turns over then seems to drop right out of you, a sharp plummet in your gut when Felix removes his shirt with a swift tug. His motions are choppy and automatic, his face set. He faces the large desk and puts his hands on it, his back to the guard.

“What is this?” you say, looking at your father and his impassive countenance. “What are you doing? What is—”

You flinch at the crack of the belt, a full body shudder as if you were struck. But the hit was not for you. You whip around to look at Felix, his mouth pressed tightly shut and his gaze on the wall ahead. When he is struck again, his instinctive recoil is smaller than yours, merely an eye twitch and hard exhale through his nose.

You start to stand but your father yanks you down again.

“Consequences,” your father says.

The blood freezes in your veins. Sardonic, you think about how moments ago you were wishing for that icy reserve. Now it locks you in places like a cold shackle. You watch with a bemused sort of detachment, like this can’t really be happening, and only when Felix’s arm shakes and his elbow caves, doubling him over the desk, do you snap out of it. The ice melts and water runs, your eyes filling with tears as your voice claws its way up your throat, fighting, fighting, fighting until you rasp, “Enough. Stop it. Stop it!”

You have yelled at your father many times, but this scream is so loud that it reverberates in the large room. A painting shakes. The guard actually stops.

Felix lifts his head and looks at you. His expression is pinched with fury, a barrier guarding the escape of any other emotion.

You know your own face is open with all that emotion. Felix has told you before that he can read you like a book, but right now anyone could. Your masks crack and you look at him then your father with terror.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Lesson learned, I—”

Your father waves a hand. A frantic, “No!” has scarcely your left mouth before the guard hits Felix with a ferocity never once directed at you. You throw a hand over your mouth, horrified as Felix loses composure, face screwed up with pain as he collapses on the desk. A bit of skin is torn right off his back and you look away, sick, before everything goes quiet.

The guard steps back. Felix is breathing loudly. Your hand is shaking when your father pries it off your mouth.

“Thank you, Felix,” your father says. “I’ll send someone to administer first aid.” Like this is a casual workplace injury. Like he didn’t just—because of you—and—

You can’t look at Felix. You stare at the ground, still shaking, your breathing as ragged as his.

“That’s all right,” Felix says in a remarkably steady voice. He clears his throat. “I can take care of myself.”

Whatever happens next is a blur. The room empties and your father administers a lecture, looking very self-satisfied. When other things transpire out of his control, it is clearly reassuring to exert power where he can. He just as clearly believes he has finally got the permanent best of you. He might not be wrong.

You walk in a hazy shuffle, out the door, up the stairs. Near the top step, your pace quickens. You find yourself crashing through the bedroom doorway, only snapping out of your stunned trance when you see Felix. He is laying facedown on the bed, his bare and bleeding back a red canvas of pain.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into the pillow, “I’ll get up. Just… give me a sec—”

You shove the door closed and approach the bed, your hands hovering with no where to go. You stare at his bare backside, the angry red lines and the long stripe where he is bleeding. You reach, your fingers shaking, then you withdraw.

“I know, I know, I’m crazy,” he says dryly. “In my defense, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“That,” you say. “What was—”

Your voice cracks and disappears. You cannot find it again. Felix finally turns his head, somehow looking more composed than you despite the pain he must be in. Surprise is his most prominent emotion, deepening to confusion as he stares at you in your state. Then he exhales and closes his eyes, finally scrunching his face in pain.

“I didn’t think…” he says. He takes another deep breath. “I told your father I would… volunteer… for this… But that’s because I… I thought you didn’t…”

Your eyes meet. You stare at each other with equal intensity, your stare still rife with terror and his wet with grief.

“They would have stopped sooner,” Felix says, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “If they thought you didn’t care, it would have stopped sooner. I thought it would—I thought you didn’t—”

“Be quiet,” you finally say. You wipe the tears when they fall, then shake your head like you are scolding yourself. Your voice is shaky when you say, “Just don’t speak.”

I thought you didn’t care about me, was undoubtedly what he meant to say. He thought he could volunteer to take a beating for you and that you would be so stone-faced and indifferent, maybe even happy to see him suffering, that your father would not waste time with a prolonged punishment.

But you did care. Your father saw and your father acted accordingly.

I’m sorry, does not suffice as a reply. Sorry for running just to win an argument? Sorry for sitting there and watching them hit you?

Sorry I care about you. I wish I just hated you.

“I can take care of it,” Felix says when you fetch a first aid kit and sit on the bed. He says that, but he hisses when he tries to move. His arms shake with uncharacteristic weakness when he pushes himself up.

“Lay down, stupid,” you say, laying a clean cloth over the wound to soak up the blood.

He laughs. It is a little breathless, but it is that familiar deep rumble of mostly happy sound. Your face feels hot and your stomach rolls over with a topsy-turvy mess of feelings.

You quietly clean and apply medicinal ointment to his back. He lays with his chin on the back of his hands, staring for a while at the headboard, then looking at you. You can feel him looking, his gaze like a touch as it wanders your face, but you do not look away from your task.

When you are done, the injury still looks vicious. You know it will get worse before it gets better, the marked skin already darkening, but it will heal. You tenderly brush your fingertips over a line, gathering excess salve.

“I don’t remember what we were fighting about,” he says, “but I think won now, yeah?”

You suck in a breath to stop yourself from laughing. He laughs, still deep but more boisterous. It ends with a hiss of pain as he moves too much. You shake your head, biting your lip.

“Serves you right,” you say. “None of this is funny.”

“Uh-huuuh.” The weirdo is still chuckling.

“Well, don’t worry about the future.” You busy yourself with packing up the first aid kit so you don’t have to meet his eye when you say, “It won’t happen again. I’ll hate you and I’ll make sure he knows it.”

“Mm.” He watches you fold the cloth, over and over, his freckled cheek squished into the pillow. “I’d say you should offer to do it yourself, but I’ve seen you on a rampage, kicking a vending machine for not giving you your change, sooo… I think I’ll take my chances with them.”

“Keep up the jokes and I really will hit you,” you say with no animosity.

“Right,” Felix says, smirking into the bedsheets, “because you hate me.”

“Yes,” you say, still not meeting his eye. It convinces no one when you say, “Because I hate you.”

That night Felix is restless, forced to lay on his front. He shifts and twitches and groans, tugging a pillow of his head to whine into the sheets. He can’t get comfortable.

You open your arms to him. You think he might reject you. Though Felix is trusted with his work and they never intrude, there are other people in the house tonight, so it is a little reckless.

Usually, he would be careful, but you think he might feel a certain resignation. A dam has been broken, a wall torn down. The worst has happened and you’re still here.

He looks at you thoughtfully then slides across the bed. You realize too late his shirtlessness adds another level of intimacy. Your face and neck and chest all feel hot, plus there is a sensation like butterfly wings fluttering in your belly, but you swallow it down and stare at the ceiling as Felix carefully lays against you. He also seems to realize the awkwardness, the tips of his ears red hot with embarrassment when he puts his head on your chest.

You both lay there, stiff as boards, awkward and young and ridiculous.

Eventually, your nervousness bubbles out of you in the form of a strangled laugh. Your emotions are swinging on a rapid-moving pendulum and all that terror and sadness turns to a random euphoric burst of laughter. Felix lifts his head and looks at you, laughing just because you are. It goes on for a while, Felix the first to recover.

“Shh,” he finally says, stifling himself. He props himself up on an elbow, leaning over you, and puts a hand over your lips to keep you quiet.

Your heart stutters, stops, starts, and you stare at him through the blue dark of your room. His mouth opens but he doesn’t say anything. He slowly slides his hand off your mouth. Neither of you move, the newfound silence covering you like a fuzzy blanket.

He flicks his head to toss his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. The red is vibrant even in the dark. You are touching his hair before you can think about why you shouldn’t touch him at all.

He looks his age again, wide-eyed and nervous. Apparently bracing himself for a beating is not a daunting task, but you touching his hair is petrifying.

You twist a dyed lock around your finger. After some consideration, you ask, “Do you like the red?”

“Uhh… I preferred the, uh, the blonde, but, uh, yeah, I guess…” His voice sounds a little lower. He clears his throat. “I just can’t figure it out. Ha.”

“Hmm,” you say, letting him go. “Maybe we can figure it out together.” That sounds like a heavy promise, implicitly about more than just a hair colour. It registers with him, his brow furrowing. You quickly deflect by adding, “Because we’re gonna be seniors soon. You can’t spend your last year of high school with bad hair.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Not like I’m a real student,” he says, “but suuure. Sounds good. Thanks.”

You look down the length of his back. You think about how he described his life now as calm, compared to whatever came before. This is the lesser of two evils, this shoving and hitting and dehumanizing. The pendulum swings back and your throat clogs with a sob. You manage to swallow it down but you have to look away from him. Your hand blindly settles in his hair, absently feathering strands between your fingers.

“You don’t need to say it like that,” you say. “You’re still a real person.”

You look at him only because he does not answer. He is staring at you, lips drawn into a line and brows knit together.

“Some people might disagree,” he says in a very low, soft voice, almost conspiratorially.

Your heart skips a beat. You roll your eyes. “Like my father?” you ask. “Well. I never agree with him on anything. You know that.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips again. “Uh, yeah, I definitely know that.” A joking tone returns and he pulls a sarcastic face, like that much should be obvious.

“Be quiet,” you say, lightly teasing. “Just go to sleep.”

Your hand is still in his hair so you yank him down. You stifle a laugh when he hits your chest with a squeak. He clears his throat, forcing a stern expression as he turns his face so he is not completely planted in your cleavage.

“Good night, Felix,” you say.

“All right,” he says. “Good night.”

You fall asleep first. He is sensible enough to slide back to his side of the bed before properly sleeping. The motion stirs you and you instinctively reach for him. Your hand falls open between you. He takes it and holds it, palm to palm, and you fall asleep once more.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #bodyguard au

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lets-try-some-writing · 5 months

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Just read what you wrote about autobots reacting to rain, and now I'm wondering what would happen if they saw the kids jump into a pool full of chemicals (chlorine and whatever else they use to maintain a pool).

Basically, on a hot summer day the kids were complaining about the heat, so agent fowler got a pool for them to cool down in. The bots saw what the people assembling the pool put in the pool, and they freak out when the kids jump in with no hesitation.

Ooooooooooooooooh boy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The bots do not like rain. On Cybertron, the stuff was acidic and capable of killing a mech through prolonged exposure. Even on Earth, they still aren't fond of it. Big bodies of water have received the same treatment. Not a spark likes them. Bumblebee may appreciate the rain and running in it off and on, but not a single Autobot enjoys any large body of water. Its wet, gets everywhere, and most notably, could hide any number of threats that they cannot see. Not to mention their very code demands they remain away from anything that even resembles and acid pool. Optimus is especially wary due to his time growing up in the wilds.

These fears were largely not an issue due to the bone dry nature of Jasper. But one hot summer day, the children decided it would be a grand idea to swim. The team knew in theory what the concept was. They had seen enough videos and were largely alright with the children swimming in purified water. If Ratchet could run scans and have them come back with nothing but majority H2O, the team could be content. As such when Agent Fowler finally caved in and got the children a pool for the base as well as all the necessary cleaning tools, the children were thrilled.

They constructed the pool in the training room just to make sure they didn't mess with any of Ratchet's stuff and promptly began filling it up. Bulkhead and Bumblebee were roped into getting buckets to help fill it up faster while the rest of the team hovered nearby to watch. Once the pool was ready, Miko threw in the filter and got the pool cleaning systems running before scurrying away with the others to get her suit on. The team didn't know what she had done but remained passive for a long moment until Ratchet got suspicious. He dipped a chemical tester into the pool water and scowled at it as he waited for the results. By the time he read them, the children had already canon balled into the water and begun laughing.

But of course that joy was short-lived as Ratchet all but screamed and demanded the team get the children out NOW. The medic hurried to try and do something but skidded on the water on the ground and promptly lost his balance. Upon reading the results of Ratchet's scan for themselves, the rest of the team lost their minds.

Smokescreen who had not wanted anything to do with the pool backed away screaming as the children splashed him. He scrubbed down his armor in terror and flew toward the washracks. Ultra Magnus, Wheeljack, and Bulkhead were too large to get near to the children and all three were similarly terrified of the "Contaminated' liquid. Bumblebee and Arcee were the only ones small enough to take one for the team and put a pede into the pool and carefully scoop up the children. They shrieked as the liquid seeped into their seams and both dropped to the ground as soon as the children were handed to Optimus. The Prime for his part mentally prepared himself to have mangled servos for the remainder of his functioning as he rushed to the nearest pure water source and sprayed down the children with the hose.

The children were not pleased at all to say the least. However as they watched the team huddle around staring at them and their own frames in horror, their anger faded quickly. They instead felt guilty as Smokescreen began wailing about how he was too young to end up like a mech called Kup. The entire team was lamenting their fates as Ratchet checked them all, the medic having already come to terms with the possible mutilation of his back if the "contaminated" liquid was as bad as he initially thought. Miko fussed over her Wreckers, Jack went to Arcee and tried to comfort her as she looked at her leg sadly, and Rafael did his best to explain.

It was only after the team had quite a while to realize that they were not about to be mutilated for life that they looked over the children and came to the conclusion that, like rain, the water wasn't going to kill them.

Rafael: "What your scans picked up were just some cleaning chemicals. Chlorine and a few other things."

Ratchet: "Those are dangerous aren't they?"

Rafael: "Well they can be in large quantities and some people's skin don't handle it well, but it won't kill a person unless they eat it or something."

Smokescreen: "So... we aren't about to die?"

Jack: "Well I think you would be dead already if that were the case."

Yet another instance of the team nearly losing their minds over a simple thing. The Wreckers almost passed out from relief and while Optimus will never admit it, he was genuinely terrified of losing his servos. Bumblebee and Arcee looked at each other with completely deadpan expressions, both murmuring about how they "should have expected this". Ratchet merely grumbled and shakily stopped planning how to tell June and Fowler that the children died from being turned into sludge under his supervision. At the same time Smokescreen had to hastily wipe his face to try and act as though he weren't two seconds from a breakdown.

The team never spoke of the incident again and collectively acted as though nothing happened whenever the children brought it up. It was agitating to the children, but they got back at the team once they were allowed back into the pool again. There was always a bot there to watch them just in case they started melting or something, and whoever the poor bot on duty was, they got splashed. Most flinched or stepped away, but Smokescreen always. screamed.

The children find it hilarious to this day.

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river-lethe-tears · 1 year

Text

DC x DP Prompt

Sam gets Summoned

So instead of Danny being the one summoned, this time it’s Sam. Like, being possessed by Overgrowth (or whatever he’s name is stupid plant ghost :/ ) , made her get some cool plant powers and stuff.

So the cult is trying to summon Overgrowth to return Earth to its former green glory or whatever. But instead gets this small goth girl. Who is suddenly looking very pissed off and angry. And oh no. They try to be really respectful and stuff because what if this is Overgrowth putting them through a test? So they toss their sacrifices into the circle because of course the entity is not happy until it gets what it was promised.

The sacrifices are probably either Poison Ivy who they somehow got (most likely through threatening Harley than knocking them both out to use as sacrifices) or Red Hood since Jason was dead and all plus Lazarus Pits. (Or Batfamily if you’re more partial to that but I did not think of this prompt with them in mind as the sacrifices lol)

So Sam is really confused and pissed off cause she was in the middle of something with Danny and Tucker and both of those idiots are probably freaking out, so she needs to get back as soon as possible. So she just gives a nasty (burger) glare and just waves her hands. Plants start sprouting from the ground and knocking the cult out. Once Sam done she just rolls her eyes in all her goth glory and walks over to the sacrifices to untie them. Poison Ivy then just watches everything play out with amusement as Harley tries to cheer Sam on. If the sacrifices are Poison Ivy and Harley or Red Hood than they compliment Sam on her skills. If it’s anyone else it’s up to your imagination.

So yeah that happens. Depending on who the sacrifices are, after an undetermined time talking Sam just walks back to the summoning circle. She knows all about this stuff due to all the rants Danny goes on and on with about people being so inconsiderate when summoning him. So she just concentrates and taps into either her liminal status, powers due to Overgrowth, or ectoplasm residue in her system and reverse summons herself back to Amity.

The rest of the bats burst in just as Sam starts to reverse summon herself. And are freaking out or shocked before she is just gone. They only get a few glimpses at her and they can’t grasp the colours since the summoning circle starts to glow bright green. Poison Ivy and Harley won’t really tell them anything since they are amused at the bats frustration. (Bats knew to rescue them cause Selena told them that they were missing; Sirens are reformed(?) in this AU)

So the bats are trying to find out more information on this being the cult summoned and the Sirens aren’t really being that helpful. Selena finds it hilarious after Ivy and Harley inform her what happened.

Just imagine a few months later there’s a Wayne Gala going on and the Mansons were invited so of course they came and dragged Sam along. Who also ended up dragging Danny and Tucker along. And the bats casually freak out when they see this girl who looks kinda like the being they saw in that warehouse a few months ago. Oh gods above. Poison Ivy please pick up. Please don’t let this be another Gala being crashed. They can handle their rouges, not inter-dimensional beings they have no information about.

Danny and Tucker naturally finds this hilarious.

Until Tucker gets summoned a month later.

~~~ Please excuse the horrible everything. I am writing this very late, but I had to do a brain dump since this was haunting (haha) my brain. I literally had this idea pop up and not go away while trying to fall asleep. There are so many run off sentences, but I can’t bring myself to care anymore. Sleep waits for no man, woman, or in between before claiming their conscience for a few hours (or days). I might come back later to fix this up and fill plot holes. But that’s a huge maybe. Also I couldn’t be bothered to actually searched up Overgrowth’s real name lol or to fact check anything. My brain is gone. Into the wind. :p

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psychhound · 9 days

Text

hey yall!!! new bundle :D

this is my 14 for 14 ttrpg bundle to pay off some of the debt from my top surgery!! you get 14 games and homebrew for 14 bucks, which is gonna run until june 14th (my birthday!!)

my top surgery was absolutely life changing and has made me so much more comfortable, confident, and happy. i dont regret it in the least. i also got hit with some surprise bills afterward that have me pretty heftily in debt because of it

some very kind souls have donated their games to help me pay some of this off, which was just so incredibly generous. which means its not just my games in here!! lots and lots of cool stuff, please check it out!!

in the bundle:

ttrpgs:

[BXLLET> : a game about systems of violence and power in the weird west apocalypse

disparateum: a dream-like reality-bending game where you hop worlds and tell strange stories

little celestial fieldwork guide: a city exploration photography game where you divine hidden spirits and take photos of them

beach day!: a system agnostic party bonding minigame where characters swap gifts and secrets

what they once feared: a solo journaling game where you play a folkloric monster forced to choose your path

the narrator paradox: a one page solo game where you play a storybook narrator whos protagonist has gained agency and is trying to change the story

the fool who got married (extended): a duet epistolary game of female hardship and connection in 1848

explorers of the forever city: a rules-light, fantasy role-playing game about ordinary people making extraordinary discoveries

homebrew:

riders: a pact for moth-light by justin ford, a fitd game. tame, bond with, and ride the terrifying predator moths

witch: a class for d&d 5e. be a con-based half-caster with curses, familiars, and a whole new way of doing spell slots

harmony with the wind: a ghibli-inspired d&d 5e pack with 5 feats, 4 backgrounds, 4 races, 6 monsters, and 3 subclasses

fairytale/feywild: a pack for d&d 5e with 1 background, 2 races, 1 subclass, and unique timekeeping mechanics for the feywild

burger wizard: a d&d 5e compatible narrative rpg about working as magical kitchen staff in a fantasy restaurant

argyth's arcane companion: 4 wizard subclasses, 3 feats, and 17 new spells for d&d 5e

you can get all of this for 14 bucks until june 14th!! it would really mean a lot to me for yall to check it out and also spread the word :D

check it out on itch!!

#indie ttrpgs #5e homebrew #dnd 5e #itch sale #itch bundle #so so grateful to everyone who donated games #it really means a lot!!!!

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mslanna · 2 months

Note

Raphael reacting to waking up to his little mouse tending to his injuries?

(also on AO3) enby Tav without body configuration. comfort, wound tending, too soft for sanity

Hurt. Hope. His.

The last thing Raphael remembered was launching himself at his father as Mephistopheles held Tav between his fingers about to squeeze them in half. The red haze that descended over the cambion blurred everything afterwards.

Pain, he remembered. Shouts. Screams. The smell and taste of blood. And then –

Nothing

Pain remained. In the quiet darkness surrounding him, the pain was still there. But so was a gentle warmth and movements over his skin. Broken? Burning? Something moist touched the side of his face. When he tried to jerk away, pain flared up through his whole body, rendering the attempt futile.

"Ah, look who's coming to!" Haarlep's voice, shrill in the silence and cutting into his skin. "I knew it wouldn't be long once we got to the healing pool."

"Shoo." The sound was soft, gentle and lenient towards the incubus in a way Raphael would not have permitted. But it seemed to work. The ground under him – mattress? – moved and steps receded.

"They were jittery ever since you went down." More soft words falling down on him. Nice. Warm. Safe. Tav?

Raphael tried to pry open his eyes. It hurt. It didn't matter. He had to make certain –

A cool hand settled over his eyes.

"Not yet." There was a decided pause after the last word, as if he had missed a word. "Soon. Let me finish with your face first."

He relaxed. Tav. It had to be. Small hands, deft. Sure. And so gentle on his broken skin. It still hurt. But in a reassuring way. Raphael let them work. The rhythm was soothing, a gentle motion in the ocean of pain that rocked him. He must have dozed off.

A sweet dream piercing through the pain of small hands on his face and soft lips breathing a kiss over his. Raphael tried to reach and hold on but the pain the movement caused woke him. At least he was now able to open his eyes.

Tav knelt at his side. Alive. Whole. Not snapped in half by his father's hand. The relief flooding his system overrode all pain. Raphael reached for their face, and though his hand hung in tatters, Tav didn't flinch back. They accepted the bloody touch, cradled his broken hand and placed it back at his side. Raphael could not look away from the dark red smears on their cheek.

"You need rest." Tav's lips moved but the words reached him only much later. Raphael blinked, aware again of the pains covering his body. "Drink. And sleep."

Tav raised a carafe to his lips. Then she shook their head, amused about something Raphael did not understand. The water disappeared from sigh but that was alright. Tav moved to lay his head in their lap. The repositioning hurt, but it was worth it.

Soft eyes looked down on him. Warm. Safe. His? He tried to reach out again, but Tav wouldn't have it. "Be still," they murmured. "You need to heal. Please."

They looked away at the last word and for the first time, Raphael wondered how badly he was injured. His jaw worked and Tav's fingers alighted on it.

"Please."

Tav reached beside them an raised the carafe again. This time they placed it against his lips and unthinking, Raphael drank. Warm. Cool. Hurt. His? He swallowed the water and pain in one. It earned him a smile. He drank more. Each sip making its way into his stomach felt like pearls of ice and fire.

It probably looked very bad if even this sent his body into a painful healing frenzy.

Tav pushed a strand of his hair back behind his ear. No pain. Good. Welcome. More. He mumbled and water spilled down his throat. Tav shook their head, but not angrily. They put the carafe away and produce a wet cloth with which they carefully wiped down his throat.

Raphael felt his skin prick, move and mend. A short check on his extremities proved that most of them were broken and open in some way. Bandaged badly. Preliminary. Behind Tav's head, he saw the ceiling of the boudoir. Home. Good. Safe. He looked back at Tav who had cleaned out the cloth and worked slowly over his right shoulder.

"You relax now," they said gently. "Leave it to me."

He wanted to, he really did. But a part of his mind wondered where Haarlep had gone and when they'd return and what would happen then. His eyes wandered but didn't get far without turning his head. And the mere attempt hurt.

Cool fingers stroked the side of his neck. "None of that now," Tav murmured. "I promise everything will be well. Just let me work."

Another of those empty pauses reserved for a word that never came. Raphael closed his eyes and let his mind chase the shape of that emptiness. A vain pursuit as the gentle touch of warm water on his chest dragged his thoughts away from anything else. Tav's hands followed the water, caressing healing tissue.

Raphael felt the arms of sleep reach for him and soon they would drag him down into their dark embrace. He fought it. With one thought cropping up in his dazed mind whenever he was about to go under. One thing. Important. Now.

He stirred and once again; gentle hands stilled him.

"I will be here when you wake." A soft smile. Hope.

"Mine?" The word croaked from his lips and splintered.

Tav ran a hand through his hair. Then they placed their cool fingers over his lips again. "Yours."

It was barely a whisper. It was enough.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #sleazy second-hand car dealer #writing prompt #anon answered #mel writes fanfic #all comfort #soft #so so soft

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eevee-genshin-blog · 5 months

Text

How’d This Happen?!

A/n: First Post! Please enjoy! This was inspired by @idkfitememate Boar!Creator!

I was floating... it’s dark? What..?

I was just playing Genshin Impact... Where am I now..? It’s getting cold... Huh... What’s that light? When you first woke up, you didn’t understand what was happening. But you got isekai’d into Genshin Impact, as a cat.

You mostly looked like Luna from Sailor Moon... but your eyes. They were like a normal cat’s, but golden, and your pupils looked like Primogems.

Great... You thought annoyed, you’ve read stories, some get cool powers, others get their phones... but you got a Cat! How unfair, but you choose to feel thankful, you didn’t know if their was anything to this place yet...

They could have killed you for being an ‘ImPoStOr,’ you mentally mock the name... But you started to wonder and ended up cutting yourself.

Not gold blood. Not stary blood. Or pink blood. It looked like the Galaxy, the drops that lost contact with your skin floated up to the sky...

So... You were a god? How does that work? You were stuck in the form of a cat... So confusing... But you decided to wander around and learn.

=================================================

In the few weeks you’ve been here, you’ve found out the following.

One, the true “Impostor,” had descended here long ago.

Two, they weren’t an animal.

Three, you did, in fact, have a human form, but felines are your ‘Symbolic Animals,’ odd, but you’ve always been a cat person. (You did figure out how to turn back into human, but you didn’t have clothes and turned right back into a cat.)

Four, you can control the different elements; So you decided to be chaotic and make a cat friendly base in the trees and ground so no one would find you.

Five, the mobs didn’t attack you.

So far, when someone’s seen you, you’d bolt. But now, you have a proper escape plan! So, you started working. Of course, you struggled, after all, you weren’t exactly used to being a cat yet, or using the elemental powers. But you managed.

Thankfully, Tevyat helped you, making sure you found fresh and clean water; giving you cat-friendly fruits to eat, or letting you catch big fishes; making sure the waters were calm if you tried swimming; and the winds gently blew you dry after.

But after a few months, you made a very small cave system for cats, or bunnies now that you think of the size, to travel through. You didn’t fully understand Dendro enough to make a tree base.

More time passed, as you lived as a cat. You didn’t care to keep up a ‘good appearance,’ why should you? You’re a cat in the forests near Mondstadt, staying alive was more important for you.

Time actually was passing so fast because you were so used to your world’s time. So, you didn’t really eat or sleep like the others here. So before you could process, a year had gone by...

You spend that time playing; chasing seelies, napping with slimes, and visiting some Melusines in Fontaine (Them not telling anyone your the Creator). Letting the hilichurls braid your now fluffy and long fur.

And you were getting homesick; yes, you were having fun... But you missed your parents, your older brother, your friends... Hell! You missed school, as crazy as it sounds...

No one here called you by your name... No one looked at you... No one thought anything of you now... But it was your face and name being taken by that person...

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, angrily... You didn’t like this as much as you thought you did... You enjoyed being free and not being hunted down... but you wanted to talk to people...

But you joined your favorite Hilichurl Camp, joining in with the fire dance. You were invested into the dance as you breathed Fireballs, of different shapes, into the night sky; Thankfully, not harming any trees, or wildlife.

But, barely missed the boy who was acting like a wolf-... Wait!?

Thanks for reading!! Sorry for my first post being so short, but updates will be slow... Once again, this was inspired by @idkfitememate please check them out!

#sagau #genshin impact #sagau impostor au #creator reader #turned cat #Shapeshifting #sagau x reader #reader is not traveler #reader is not called y/n #Reader is technically oc #got inspired #first post #isekai’d #Sailor Moon inspired #Luna #Cat!Creator #Reader is not an adult

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titanrpg · 5 months

Text

you got a minute? I need a favor

Hey everyone, it's Lex. Happy New Year to you and yours!

Today, I have a huge announcement about Titanomachy RPG and its future. This month marks 3 years since I joined TTRPG Twitter. I've met so many incredible people and learned so much from y'all. Your support has allowed me to take one HUGE step in my life.

I recently moved to Maryland from Florida to get some basic human rights. I also left my job of 7 years to try and live unburdened by selling hours of my life to some random rich guy. And now, I'm taking Titanomachy RPG full-time.

Here I am, already having taken the leap. I have some money saved up, yes, but ultimately I am trusting in the generosity of others to help me build out a life I can truly love.

So yes, this is a Patreon announcement. And there's a link to Caltrop Core below (if you want to make a one-time contribution). But before anyone exits this email, I want to talk about all the cool stuff everyone can expect from me, regardless of Patreon status or donor status. I have a lot of exciting things coming in 2024, like:

a NEW open license d12 system called DODECA!

physical copies of my games becoming available via Indie Press Revolution, starting with NIGHTHAWKS!

more consistent game & system releases

seeing more of my work in some upcoming Evil Hat projects (look for me in the Girl by Moonlight stretch goal zines)

prints of "prayer to curse ron desantis", bunny girl osr posters, and perhaps shirts/hats/merch?

ttrpg workshops IRL in the Maryland area

and much much much much more!!

Now, here's the link to my Patreon before I forget: https://www.patreon.com/TitanRPG

I have an AWESOME founding patron bonus. There are 3 tiers of membership, and no matter which you choose to join today, you'll get a pre-release PDF of GOLDEN BEETLE PLAYGROUND, my Medabots-inspired TTRPG built on Caltrop Core EX.

This bonus is ONLY for people who join this month. After January, I'll take it down to work on the game further (and eventually do a full release later this year).

For tiers 2 and 3, I'll be releasing one short RPG every single month. These games will remain Patreon exclusives until I can put proper polish on them (or the patrons vote to release their favorites).

There's a bunch more goodies and details on my actual Patreon page. Click that link to see!

Eventually, I'll be putting merch up on that page, so even if you can't support with a monthly pledge, you'll be seeing posters, shirts, hats, all that very soon!

These days, I'm on tumblr every so often, but no other social media. Patreon will be my dedicated page for updates, game mechanics, design discussions, everything! Even if you join at the $3/month tier, I want to provide a ton of value, starting with GOLDEN BEETLE PLAYGROUND!

Click here to see the three membership tiers and support a trans game designer today!

Thank you for your support over the past 3 years. I hope to remain worth of it for many more years to come.

All my love,

Lex Kim Bobrow

Publisher, Titanomachy RPG

P.S. Here's the link again. Take a moment to check out the page please, and if you can't contribute, please tell your friends! I've lost touch with so many people after leaving Twitter, so any help in getting the word out is 10000000% appreciated!!

P.P.S. If you could reblog this post ASAP, I'd really really appreciate it. Thank you!!!

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #caltrop core

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copperpipes · 7 months

Note

PLEASE? TELL ME WHAT YOU DO IN SPECULATIVE BIOLOGY? THAT SOUNDS REALLY COOL???

WHERE DO I EVEN START???

Okay I know. Some general information about the subject first:

Its a genre.

Before speculative biology comes speculative evolution, a more known subject that is basically a whole genre of books, projects, and is more spread then speculative biology because it is less specific. You would find plenty of speculative evolution projects.

They are very similar in a lot of ways and I think the difference is that speculative evolution 'documents' the journey (the evolution) of a creature or a multitude of creatures throughout a time-line of events that may or my not effect its form, while speculative biology is more focused on a single time period or just one creature or maybe a made up culture or an entire planet at a certain point in said journey, and digs deep.

A good example would be birgworld by @iguanodont and alien whale documentary which I definitely recommend checking out if you like the subject and a couple I forgot the name of currently ':]

Whe i say digs deep, I mean it could be as vast as from the building bloks of DNA (like carbon and nitrogen for us) to the politics and cultural plays. Tradition, religion, culture, history, language, psychology, and of course, biology. From general physiology to the way they reproduce and raise their young if at all.

This genre is usually categorized as sci-fi (not in all cases, but then it would be seen less as speculative biology and more just world building, an example would be monstergarden on YouTube) even though its word building because most of the creatures 'documented' are made up aliens and the projects themselves are closely tied to science.

Everything has an explanation in speculative biology and it goes into detail.

Actually a couple of my personal projects are categorized as speculative biology since in them I put my imagination to use and explore alien creatures and their identity.

Being my autistic self everything is thought out to the miniscule detail of how my aliens farm their equivalent of potatoes to what is their social structure and the different things I listed prior. Consider it my special interest.

To this date, I have at least drawn a picture of 10 different intelligent alien species (not including animals or other life forms from same planets, not even different life stages that may be in one species) all seen in a single time period on their respective planets.

Speculative biology also often features in it the planet itself and the solar system it belongs to since one is heavily effected by the other.

I am planning on posting about my project soon enough since I'd like to document it digitally but for now its nearly 3 am so yeah

Thank you so much for the ask I've been wanting to blubber about my favorite subject for some time just didn't have the opportunity :]

This is merely a summary of what little knowledge I hold, I encourage you to look into it and maybe start one of your own.

Also if I didn't get the question right correct me please

#ask #speculative biology #spec bio #speculative evolution

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aspoonofsugar · 3 months

Note

What do you think about You Don't Know and other Hazbin Hotel songs?

Hi!

I love the songs in Hazbin Hotel and You Didn't Know is an absolute banger!

It is also one of my favourite songs when it comes to symbolism and themes. So here it comes a short analysis.

You Didn't Know explores the themes of ignorance, knowledge and questioning, as it is introduced by this exchange:

Charlie: Wait… none of you know what gets someone into Heaven? Sera: This questioning stops now. We know when a soul arrives, we know when they pass divine judgment, it is our job to ensure these souls are safe.

The angels have no idea why a soul is considered worthy of Heaven, which angers Charlie. Still, Sera insists it is not their place to know and that they simply must accept divine judgement. However, this idea is questioned by both Emily and Charlie:

Emily: But she was right, Sera She showed us a soul can improve He saw the light, Sera Checked all the boxes that you said would Prove a person deserves a second chance Now we turn our backs, no second glance?

Charlie: It's not fair, Sera Vaggie: Careful, Charlie, keep a cool head Charlie: No! Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead It doesn't mean they can't resolve to change their ways Turn the page Escape infernal blaze

The two princesses point out how unfair the current system is and put some pressure on the angels. However, they too are still naive, which is why they get called out themselves.

By Sera:

Sera: It's not as simple as you think Not everything is spelled in ink

Sera: I 'm sure you wish it could be so But there's a lot that you don't know

And by Adam:

Adam: Gotta say, I can't wait to Come down and exterminate you! Emily:What are you saying? Let me get this straight You go down there and kill those poor souls? Charlie: You didn't know?

Adam: Don't you act all high and mighty Did you ever think your little girlfriend might be a liar? Vaggie: Don't, Adam, please! Adam: What's the fuss? Why hide the fact that you're an angel Just like us?

Emily and Charlie are ignorant when it comes to their loved ones. Specifically, they ignore the role of both Sera and Vaggie in the exterminations. They don't know Sera and Vaggie's shadows:

Still, this song has the characters' secrets come out, so that they can be dealt with. In future episodes we see Hell and Charlie do so, whereas Heaven and Sera refuse to. This is why season 1 ends with Hell's victory.

Still, why does Sera refuse to accept the truth? What is it that scares her so much?

Sera: They were uprising, Emily. It is my position as the head Seraphim to protect our people at all costs.

Sera fears the order might break, which could result in her loved ones suffering. In this sense, she is similar to Carmilla:

But if anyone knew, then all of Hell would rise to war And who's to say who'd survive the fray? I might lose the ones that I was killing for

That said, even if it is only temporary, Heaven's order is indeed lost throughout the song. This is shown by two visual motifs:

The metaphorical use of heights

The use of colors, especially blue and red

WHO HAS THE MORAL HIGH GROUND?

The seating in the courtroom is organized, so that it mirrors the characters' perceived morality:

Sera and Emily, as Seraphims and judges are at the very top

The other high ranking angels are the jury, so they are just below the two seraphims

Adam, Lute, Charlie and Vaggie are the two parts debating, so they are below the judges and the jury. Still, they are not on the same level. Adam and Lute are above Charlie and Vaggie.

This arrangement shows that Sera has no intention to be a fair judge, as she has already decided the Exorcist Adam has the moral high ground on the Princess of Hell. He is an angel and she is a demon. He is the first virtuous soul and she is Lucifer's daughter. He embodies the status quo, while she is trying to change it. So, Sera has already decided to favor Adam over Charlie. In other words, the moral high ground highlights not morality, but the influence Heaven has over Hell. It is nothing more, but the embodyment of their power dynamic.

Despite this, as the song starts things change in multiple ways:

1- Emily steps down

Emily empathizes with Charlie and gets down off the pedestal Sera has built for her. She is still above Charlie and Adam, but she invites the other angels to show mercy, to be just. This is because Emily strongly believes Heaven is a place where virtue and morality reign.

2- Adam and Lute look down on Charlie

Adam and Lute make their case and claim Hell is forever:

Adam and Lute: Did you forget that "Hell is forever"?

As they sing this part, they stand on the magical orb and look down on Charlie. They have the upper hand and judge her and the other demons as creatures inferior to angels. At this point, though, Adam flies down to threathen Charlie:

By doing so, he reveals the existence of the exterminations and shows that he himself is no different from a demon. So, Adam and Charlie are on equal footing.

3 - Emily reaches Charlie

The reveal of the Exterminations shocks Emily, who reaches the floor to better look at the destruction Heaven is causing. Her idealistic vision of Heaven gets shattered, so she is forced to re-evaluate the system and the current order. She stops positioning herself as higher than Charlie and goes down to better see things from her perspective.

4 - Sera flies down

Sera panics and hurries to Emily to convince her that what she has done is for the greater good. She is forced to step down and to confront the younger Seraphim on the floor:

Sera: You have to listen It was such a hard decision I wanted to save you, the anguish it takes to Do what was required

Still, Emily refuses Sera's explanation and calls her out:

Emily: To think that I admired you Well, I don't need your condescension I'm not a child to protect Was talk of virtue just pretension? Was I too naïve to expect you To heed the morals you're purveying?

As she does, she flies higher than Sera because she is showing more morality than her mentor:

5- Charlie and Emily gain the moral high ground

As Charlie and Emily sing together in anger and frustration, they jump on the magical orb. Their pose mirrors Adam and Lute's one, but their point is the thematical opposite:

Charlie and Emily: If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie!

Adam and Lute claim "hell is forever", whereas Charlie and Emily answer that "if hell is forever, then heaven must be a lie". Not only that, but they say it looking down on Sera, who is supposedly the higher ranking angel and the judge.

Charlie starts the questioning at the very bottom, but in the climax she gains the upper hand. Sera should be at the very top, but in the end she is reduced to look up to the two girls from the floor.

The questioning starts as a farce and a demonstration of political power. However, Charlie's determination and Emily's sense of justice make it the real deal. Hypocrisy disappears and the truth becomes visible to everybody. Even if just for a moment.

6- Sera takes back control

Sera uses Adam's reveal about Vaggie to re-assert order over the courtroom. She and Emily fly back to their seats and Sera is free to be the judge again. Her final decision is the one she was determined to make in the beginning:

Sera: I'm sorry… but this court finds that there is no evidence souls in Hell can be redeemed.

Sera refuses Charlie and Emily's pleas and goes back to the pre-established order.

RED DEVIL AND BLUE ANGEL

Charlie and Emily unmasking the truth about Heaven and Hell is highlighted also by the way red and blue are used throughout the song. In general, Hell and Heaven are color-coded. Hell is red and Heaven is blue. For example, Charlie and Vaggie wear red, whereas St Peter, Sera and Emily wear blue:

Not only that, but Sera and Emily's wings have blue details and shades. Lucifer is a Seraphim too, but his wings are red inside, as he is the titular devil:

That said, You Didn't Know breaks this color scheme to show how angels like Adam, Lute and Sera are behaving like devils. This clip of Sera makes it clear:

Hell's flames are mirrored in her eyes and make her look scary, when she is trying to be reassuring. A stark contrast with the blue and gold idealized imagery Emily has of her:

By the moment Charlie and Emily state their powerful come-back the colors are basically mixed. Just like the Princess of Hell (red) and the Youngest Seraphim (blue) stand together and share the same moral vision:

Charlie and Emily: If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again

Hell and Heaven are not red (black) and white (blue), but have shades (of gray). Just as Charlie and Emily sing this, the world around them changes to prove them right.

The two girls break the system and show clearly that:

Charlie is the one pursuing morality, as she is trying to protect people

Good and Evil are not so easily defined, as the angels behave like demons and demons show positive traits and virtues

Unluckily, this isn't enough to change things, as Heaven is stuck in their own rules:

Lucifer: Hohooo boy, Heaven, is not exactly as carefree as you might think. Yeah, they have rules, lots of rules, and they aren't very open minded as you'd hope.

A QUESTION TO BE POSED

The debate between Charlie and Adam is about the possibility or not to redeem souls in Hell. Deep down, though, it is really about something much more basic. Is it alright to question things? Every character has their own viewpoint on the matter:

Charlie: Well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into Heaven?

Adam: Uhhh… well, uh… then why isn't he here then? Hm? Emily: Yeah, why isn't he here?

Lute and Adam: There's no question to be posed He's unholy, case closed

Charlie and Emily are genuinelly asking questions. They wanna know why some spirits end up in Heaven and why others do not. Adam and Lute, instead refuse to investigate things. Adam's question isn't real and it is just rhetoric used to prove a point. Lute directly states there is nothing to question. Charlie and Emily embody the theme, whereas Adam and Lute represent the anti-theme.

What about Sera? She is the negation of the negation, which is a thematic stance worse than the anti-theme. Charlie and Emily are ignorant, but want to know. Adam and Lute are in the dark, but they don't care to know.

Sera's sin isn't ignorance, though. It is knowledge:

Emily: Sera, tell me that you didn't know Sera: I thought, since I'm older It's my load to shoulder Emily: No!

She knows about the exterminations and she knows the system isn't fair. Still, she refuses to question it. Not only that, but she prohibits others to ask questions:

Sera: Please…. if you start to question… you could end up like Lucifer. FALLEN.

She is the judge of a questioning, but doesn't allow questions. This shows how hypocritical the whole situation is. How can there be a questioning, when one can't ask questions? And if asking questions is prohibited, then the final answer will never change:

Lucifer: Heaven never listens! They didn't listen to me, they won't listen to you!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #my meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #charlie morningstar #sera hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #lute hazbin hotel

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