#defy inventor

[hivemuthur]

Hey! I was the one who wanted to request an arrange marriage (regency era) au with viktor and reader. I would like the reader to be bubbly and artistic (for painter/drawer), if that’s okay?

If you’ve watched bridgerton, perhaps reader would be apart of that family? But if you haven’t, that’s fine, just ignore this part lol

Hi Anon! So... this is happening. People this is my take on Bridgerton-inspired regency AU :v more under picture!

A Deer and a Man - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit) - tho this chapter is a little pornographic, there is some naked wrists, running around in nightgowns and men with loosened cravats, so proceed with caution :v

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 7,7K (it will be this long, sorry!)

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family's wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author's note: Anon, forgive me, but I wasn't able to write it precisely into the Bridgerton universe, I don't know it nearly enough. Also, I got brain damaged while writing it and included the artist part as a pianist, as this is the subject I know best. Super special thanks to @mithrava who helped me with details (I almost squeezed our poor girl into a corset, but she fucking hates bras anyways) and to @rennethen who beta reads and brainstorms the ideas with me!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

The first look into the mirror in the morning is always suspended between a thing in bloom and a thing fading away. What blossoms is the vision of yourself, wrapped up in a short stay, your form sculpted to society’s liking, cheeks brushed with a becoming rose tint, hair pinned into a careful bun, soft tendrils escaping to frame your face. The self that fades is the girl who may draw a full breath, whose flushed cheeks owe nothing to powder but to joy, whose wild curls defy taming. You greet her each evening and bid her farewell each morning, so that the lady—your family’s prized jewel—might step into the light. Mostly.

That is, when you were not hunched over the piano, playing Appassionata with a furious fervour instead of what your mother deemed proper, like some dull Hummel or Clementi. How utterly boring and soulless they seemed, that you could almost hear your night self scolding you each time your fingers reluctantly touched the keys to play one of those Sonatinas.

Running was also a thing you had to avoid, for the most part. Eating a whole apple was strictly vulgar. As for a whole egg—well, that was something to be done in the strict privacy of the kitchens, once you’d managed to filch one without the cooks noticing. Yanking your skirts up while sitting on the grass and scribbling was also one of those moments when, if your mother had caught you, she would have been most displeased, to say the least. All in all, you had precious little time to let your night self emerge during the waking hours. She was continually suppressed by the version of you that took small, delicate bites, drank tea from a tiny cup, and sat upright while playing agreeable tunes.

Today, of all days, it is imperative that your night self remain firmly in check, while your day self does her utmost to impress the very man you have already deemed beyond salvation—without so much as laying eyes on him. A rare occasion indeed, where both versions of you are in agreement.

He has but one benefit of the doubt, and that is Jayce Talis. A brilliant inventor you once encountered when you slipped away from your mother and sisters while running errands in town. Back then, he had been mocked and overlooked as he tried to preach his discoveries from a modest tent set up on the way to the pharmacy. Someone particularly unkind had flung a fistful of mud in his direction, which Jayce avoided with such grace that your eyes had lit up.

You had been so young then, perched atop a crate of peaches, listening from afar, watching him wave his hands about, utterly bewitching.

"Is this truth you are speaking? Absolutely fascinating," you had said, once you had mustered the courage to approach him and give voice to the questions grinding in your hungry mind.

"It’s all possible, Miss," he had replied with a brilliant smile. "Take a pamphlet. I am here every Thursday."

But before you could so much as tell him your name, your mother had seized you by the ear and dragged you—nearly by force—into the nearest perfumery. Huffing and sighing in disapproval, she had straightened your dress, grumbled about the mud on your shoes, and scolded you for indulging the poor man’s delusions.

Little did she know.

Five years later, Jayce Talis is one of the most sought-after and highly regarded inventors and scientists in the entire region. Yet it is not he whom your family desires—not exactly. His research and the opportunity to invest in it—now that is what truly entices them.

And standing beside Jayce is his partner, Viktor. A stray, adopted by House Talis as though he were its own son. Apparently just as brilliant, undoubtedly just as sought-after.

"A good match," your mother says with a firm tone.

"A bright future for you and your sisters," your father says, his voice tinged with sadness and apology.

Of all men, you had thought him the one who would never betray you. And you tell yourself it is only one part of you that he has betrayed. Yet it wounds you so deeply because it is the part he always claimed to love most of all.

The real part of you.

You push her aside as you tuck a loose lock back into your bun. Fill your lungs with as much air as your short stay allows—nearly not enough. Then you answer your mother’s call with a rehearsed, “I will be right there, Maman!”

One last glance in the mirror—oh, no. You forgot a smile.

So you plaster it back onto your face, let the stale air escape your chest, and run—no, walk—downstairs. And the noise is already there as they all exchange their exaggerated good afternoons—your sweet father, your benevolent mother, your silly younger sisters, Jayce and Viktor. You hear their voices, your mother chuckling politely at Jayce’s remarks about bumpy roads, Viktor’s reserved greeting with a lilt of an accent that makes your ears perk up. Pretty.

Your eyes land on Jayce first—his frame broader than you remember—and something swells within you. Not sultry, just pleased to see this once-boy now a full-grown man, taking up the space he was always meant to claim.

And next to him—oh.

Emerging from your father’s embrace is Viktor, visibly startled by the stark contrast between your official mother and your matey father, who claps him on the back, smiling with flushed cheeks. Happy, relieved, because the boy who will marry his daughter is a slender, gentle man with kind hands and bright eyes. Your father breathes deeply, granting himself absolution for sending his eldest away into the arms of a stranger.

And the man at the bottom of the staircase looks nothing like the monster you painted in your mind. His frame is lithe yet full of quiet strength, supported by a cane. His face, all sharp angles, is touched by shifting light and shadow with every expression he tries to suppress. Lips small and tender, nose a work of the most skilled sculptor, eyes the colour of your father’s favourite bourbon—and your favourite honey, the one from summer flowers. His leg is hugged by a strange contraption of a brace, and you feel a weird sense of camaraderie—both of you constricted in some way.

"Hello," you say in your rehearsed voice, though it wavers slightly at the touch of his hand on yours. Your heart stumbles between beats when his lips press to your glove, his thumb steady on your knuckles.

"I am so glad to finally have met you, Miss. I have heard so much about you," says Viktor, holding your gaze. His composure settles back into place, his eyes drilling into you. And beneath his voice, a hint—suggesting he has heard more than just that you are a sweet young lady.

"Only good things, I hope?" you ask. And truly, the hope lingers in your tone, even though you know Jayce has told him what a wild thing you are when nobody is watching.

Briefly, you wonder—what would it be like to be asked by this man to marry him, had your families not decided your fate for you? Would you say yes, tears in your eyes? Or would you smile gently and tell him a polite maybe? Would you challenge him or take him in without compromise, had you met and known him before everything was resolved for you?

"Only good things," Viktor says with a false, polite smile as he releases your hand. And the falseness of it stirs something within you—a worry, a flicker of fear.

What is this man like when no one is watching?

You have heard almost nothing—only mentions of his brilliance and good behaviour. But if they are as much half-truths as the mentions of your brilliance and good behaviour, then this arrangement could be either a blessing or a curse.

Not that it matters. If you ever wanted to be married, which you still do not. You merely accept your fate for the sake of…

For the sake of your family. Of course.

The exchange of pleasantries has barely settled when the butler steps forward, his voice measured and precise. "My lord, my lady, refreshments are prepared in the drawing room."

"Ah, excellent!" Father claps Jayce’s shoulder in a display of easy camaraderie. "We have much to discuss, Mister Talis. Shall we?"

Mother inclines her head gracefully, extending a gloved hand toward the open doorway. "Come, gentlemen. We shall not let business keep us from our tea."

The procession to the drawing room is orderly, Father leading Jayce in enthusiastic conversation about the boundless opportunities ahead. "A partnership of this nature is unprecedented, of course. An investment in the future—our shared future."

Jayce responds with the confidence of a man accustomed to admiration. "Precisely, my lord. With the right support, we could revolutionise industry as we know it."

You follow with measured steps, Viktor at your side. He has not spoken since the introduction, his expression composed, though his eyes—deep, contemplative—move with interest over the fine furnishings of the room.

As everyone settles, tea is poured, the gentle clink of porcelain filling the brief lull in conversation. You accept your cup, watching as Viktor does the same, his fingers long and careful around the delicate handle. A man of precision, no doubt.

You lower yourself onto one of the chairs as a maid pours the tea, your hands folding neatly in your lap as you watch your father and Jayce fall into an easy rhythm of discussion. They speak of investments, of Hextech’s promise, of the ways in which your family’s patronage will shape the future. You hear none of it.

“You must find this arrangement rather inconvenient,” you say to Viktor, keeping your voice light as you turn toward him.

His eyes sharpen, though his smile remains polite. “How so?” His hand playing with the cane stills, long fingers extend idly toward its wooden pole.

You tilt your head. “To be bound to a wife you do not know. And for science, no less.”

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, setting his tea down. “Science is a noble cause, Miss. Perhaps even nobler than marriage.”

A test. You recognise it as easily as you recognise your own reflection.

"Then I suppose you have the better end of the bargain," you say, knowing it’s in fact, the exact opposite.

What Viktor doesn’t know, is that your mother has ensured the bargain benefits your family far more than it does the inventors. And looking at both of them—Jayce, hardly containing the beam on his face, and Viktor, observing everything reverently—you feel a pang of guilt, followed by a flicker of anger at the injustice.

A plan formulates in your wicked brain faster than you can blink.

Viktor’s lips press together, but amusement flickers in his gaze. “Perhaps we both do.”

Whatever he means by that, you don’t get the chance to find out. Your mother’s voice cuts through the conversation, her smile as polished as the silverware. “My dear, do spare Mister Viktor the interrogation.”

You return her smile, though yours is sharper. “I was only ensuring he is as clever as they say.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow slightly before she turns back to Viktor, seamlessly redirecting the conversation to something safer. "Dearest, I do believe Mister Talis was about to ask your thoughts on Clementi’s compositions. Such refined taste in music is most becoming."

A deliberate redirection. A warning.

You inhale, curbing the temptation to press further. "Indeed, my lady Mother." Turning to Jayce, you summon a practiced smile. "I do believe his sonatinas have their merits. Though, some find them rather—predictable."

Viktor’s gaze lingers a moment longer, unreadable. You have tested him, and he has not recoiled. A curiosity, then. A mystery yet to unfold.

You spend the rest of the afternoon refreshments chatting to Jayce about mediocre music, wondering if he is as bored as you are. He is ever the gentleman, offering the occasional enthusiastic nod or agreeable remark, though you catch the way his gaze strays toward the conversation between your Father and Viktor. You, on the other hand, attempt to suppress yawns, stuffing your face with biscuits only to receive a sharp, silent scolding from your mother—her ever-composed expression unchanging, yet her message perfectly clear in the slight arch of her brow and the subtle narrowing of her eyes.

Jayce, for his part, is far less burdened by such silent reprimands, complimenting the food with an easy charm that has even the servants standing a little straighter. "Absolutely delightful," he declares after a bite of pastry. "Your cooks must be geniuses, my lady."

Mother responds with a gracious nod, her practiced smile unwavering. "We do strive for excellence."

Meanwhile, across the room, Viktor exchanges politeness with your father, and—intriguingly—seems to warm to the conversation. While his initial responses are careful, measured, there is a spark of genuine enthusiasm as the subject shifts to research. Your father, less constipated than your mother in matters of etiquette, easily shakes off formality, allowing his hand to linger on Viktor’s shoulder longer than necessary—a gesture of camaraderie and gratitude.

As the discussion unfolds, Viktor’s composure loosens. He leans in slightly, his hands moving as he speaks, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of a man entirely lost in his own world of ideas. His voice, once restrained, now carries a lilt of passion as he explains the intricacies of Hextech and its boundless potential. You watch, fascinated, as the façade slips away—just a little—revealing something softer beneath. And how lovely he looks when he forgets himself.

Dinner proceeds without any great disturbances, save, again, for your mother’s silent rebukes whenever you take too large a bite or drink too greedily. Conversation flows between the three men, animated and full of promise—the future, progress, the shape of the world yet to come. All three desire it in their own way, though you suspect Viktor’s hunger for it is of a different nature than the others’.

And then, of course, comes your turn to be put on display. After dinner, Mother’s hand lands lightly on your wrist, her voice smooth as silk yet firm beneath the surface. "Dearest, why don’t you show our guests the depths of your talents? A sonatina, perhaps? Something refined."

Refined, meaning dull. Predictable. A test, as everything always is.

You rise, crossing the room with measured steps, already feeling Viktor’s gaze on you. He has seen something of you in conversation—but now, he will listen.

And so—you play the godforsaken Sonatina, your skin pulled tight over your face, eyes hooded, fingers moving with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner serving a sentence. Your back aches from keeping your spine stiffly straight, and despite your best efforts, your brows begin to furrow in ironic frustration. You only realise it when your mother clears her throat—pointedly, just a touch too loud.

You correct yourself immediately, smoothing your expression, though you swear you hear the ghost of a chuckle slip past Viktor’s lips. How dare he.

"How lovely," Jayce says, his smile wide and honest. You return it with one of your own—entirely dishonest—as you offer an insincere, "Thank you, Mister Talis," and bow politely. Viktor nods and swallows, and for some reason, you catch the way his throat bobs.

"Gentlemen, I believe it is time to discuss business. Let us move to the smoking room," Father announces, beaming. You can't suppress the sigh that escapes you. Soon—very soon—your night self will be free. She has been clawing at the edges of your skin for hours.

"Goodnight, my dearest girls," Father says warmly, pressing a kiss to both your forehead and your mother’s—a gesture so private, so natural, it earns him a scoff from his wife and a kiss on the cheek from his daughter.

Pleasantries are exchanged, and as soon as the men are out of sight, you bolt toward your bedroom. Your mind is already racing, gears grinding. Your feet slip from your heels, and you clasp them in your hands as you take the stairs two at a time. Every step sheds another layer of constriction—the short stay, the chemise, the pins biting into your scalp, the suffocating weight of your skirts. Off, off, off. The blush, the powder, the pretence. Her watch has ended for today.

You shake your hair loose from its updo before you even reach your door, already calling for your maid the moment you step inside, clawing at the laces of your gown in desperation.

“Miss, why the dramatics?” she teases, catching up with you in the corridor.

“Peggy don’t test me. I can’t breathe,” you whine, slumping onto your vanity chair, hands pressing against your ribs to emphasize the urgency. “I am convinced that in hell, everyone wears a short stay.”

Peggy chuckles but says nothing more as her fingers work deftly at the laces, loosening them with a care that speaks of years spent tending to you. You feel the tension ease, your ribs finally expanding without resistance.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice light but expectant. “How was the evening?”

You hesitate. The words sit heavy on your tongue, as though speaking them aloud would solidify them, make them real. And you are not quite ready for that. Instead, you exhale slowly, composing yourself before replying, “He is… nice.” That is all you can manage.

Peggy hums knowingly. “From what I managed to spy, he’s also rather handsome.”

You scoff, turning your head away. “Is that all that matters?”

“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” she says with a grin, but she does not press further.

At last, the constriction gives way, and you take an exaggerated breath, filling your lungs like a drowning woman reaching the surface. Then, without ceremony, you slide off the chair and sprawl flat on the floor, half-dressed, limbs flung out like a marionette with its strings cut.

Peggy, unfazed, picks up your nightgown and drapes it over you as though covering a corpse. “God, grant rest upon my poor mistress’s soul and let her eternity be free of the constriction of breast support,” she intones in mock solemnity.

Laughter bubbles up from your chest, unrestrained and real. You lift an arm weakly and wave it in her general direction. “Saint Peggy, patron of weary ladies, I thank you.”

She curtsies dramatically. “As ever, at your service. Call on me if you need anything.”

“I expect I shall sleep like a log.”

“Good. You’ve earned it, I think.” With that, she takes her leave, pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence settles over the room, thick and absolute. You are alone.

For the first time since the day began, the weight of it all presses down on you. The evening, the introductions, the expectations—your mother’s sharp gaze, your father’s quiet resignation, the way Viktor’s eyes had searched yours with something unreadable. It is real now. You are betrothed.

You swallow. A part of you wants to dwell on it, to trace every moment back and find meaning in the way Viktor’s lips had pressed to your glove, or how he had looked when he spoke of his work, his façade slipping just enough to let something genuine through. But you stop yourself before you go too far.

No. There is still one more thing to do tonight.

You push yourself up from the floor, shaking away the thoughts. The night is not over yet.

Barefoot and silent, you slip from your chambers, the corridor dimly lit by the soft glow of sconces. The house is quiet, the faint crackle of a dying hearth the only sound accompanying your careful steps. You know this path well—the precise places to avoid so the floorboards won’t betray you, the door handle that needs an extra nudge before it turns smoothly.

Inside, your father’s study smells of ink, aged paper, and a lingering trace of cigar smoke. The large mahogany desk dominates the space, neat and orderly, save for the glass of brandy he left half-finished. You move swiftly, rifling through the stack of documents until you find it—your contract, tucked within a leather folder. The paper is thick beneath your fingers, the ink crisp and unwavering in its certainty.

You sit at his desk, candle alit, quill and ink poised above parchment. The contract lies before you, its neat, formal script a reminder of how little say you had in its creation. Pushed through by your father but shaped by your mother’s precise demands, it is, at its core, a transaction. A business arrangement designed to favour your family above all else.

Your eyes skim over the terms, and irritation prickles beneath your skin. The imbalance is glaring. The investment into Hextech is substantial, but in return, the Talises and your future husband receive only what your mother deems “reasonable compensation.” No direct ownership, no authority over the funds. Your family retains the power, and Viktor and Jayce are little more than beneficiaries at your parents’ discretion. A gilded leash.

You press your lips together. No. This will not do.

Dipping your quill into the ink, you begin to amend.

First, the finances—your father’s control over the investment is reduced. Instead of an allowance doled out at his leisure, the funds will be released in agreed-upon increments, ensuring neither Jayce nor Viktor are forced to beg for what is already promised to them. They will have the freedom to allocate resources as needed, without interference from your family.

Next, ownership. The contract had positioned your father as a silent but permanent stakeholder, yet he has no knowledge of Hextech, no hand in its creation. You strike that out, altering it so that once their research yields results, patents and profits remain in the hands of their rightful creators. Your family will receive a generous return, but not at the expense of their autonomy.

Then, Viktor himself. The terms outlining your marriage are, predictably, cold. Your mother’s hand is evident in every word. You are to be an asset to your husband, a guiding influence, ensuring that he remains focused and socially presentable. It is not about companionship—it is about control.

You set your quill down, flexing your fingers before taking it up again. You cannot undo the engagement, but you can redefine it. The clauses regarding expectations of your role are softened, turned into vague suggestions rather than obligations. Where once it stated that your husband must be “encouraged” to attend events and maintain appearances, you adjust it to read that he may do so at his discretion. No doubt your mother will notice this change, but you will cross that bridge when you must.

By the time you finish, the candle has burned low. You lean back, studying your work. The contract remains an arrangement, a tether you cannot sever, but at least now, it is fairer. A step closer to something tolerable.

You blot the ink, letting the parchment dry. The night stretches on, silent save for the scratching of your quill as you forge your own small rebellion in ink.

Once you deem it ready, you sneak back out, guiding your footsteps toward the guest bedrooms. An unthinkable mésalliance, your mother would say, but you feel that both Jayce and Viktor should be made aware—if your plan is to work. You step carefully, your bare feet growing dirty from crossing the house without slippers.

Muffled conversation filters through the door your mother assigned to Jayce. His voice is slightly raised, Viktor’s quieter, edged with irony. They are discussing the evening.

One proper breath, and then a knock on the door.

The hum of conversation ceases instantly as heavy footsteps approach. The door cracks open, and Jayce’s eyes widen—because there you stand, in nothing but your nightdress and a loose cape that does little to conceal your state of undress.

His mouth falls open, and only a small, startled sound escapes his lips.

“Let me in!” you whisper sharply, glancing down the corridor with nervous urgency.

“Oh, Miss, forgive me, but this… is very inappropriate,” Jayce says weakly, though he makes no move to stop you as you push past him and step into the room.

The air is thick with the remnants of their earlier conversation, the scent of brandy lingering. Viktor sits slouched in an armchair, one elbow propped on the armrest, fingers pressed against his temple as if warding off a headache. He watches you, silent, unreadable.

Jayce, on the other hand, is all frantic gestures and hushed protests. “You must go back to your room. If anyone—God, if your mother—” He exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw. “This is madness.”

You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Fuck the polite society, Jayce. Do you want to be a slave to my mother, or will you read what I brought you?”

At that, Viktor’s lips quirk—barely. “Quite a mouth you have there, Miss.” His voice is smooth, carrying none of Jayce’s flustered panic. He rises from his chair, extending a hand.

It’s only then that you truly take him in. His shirt is undone at the neck, the cravat abandoned somewhere, his hair tousled prettily as if he’s raked his fingers through it too many times. A flush warms his cheeks—alcohol, no doubt, courtesy of your father.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before placing the document in his outstretched hand. Your fingers brush, and you retreat too quickly, as if the touch burned.

Silence. Viktor’s eyes flick across the page, reading with quiet intensity. Jayce, peeking over his shoulder, mutters under his breath, “Oh, my.”

Viktor lets out a quiet scoff, the amusement avoiding his eyes. “And to what do we owe this mercy of yours, pray tell?” His gaze lingers on the last lines of your text, his tone devoid of the warmth he carried earlier. Now, it is sharp, cold, measured—kindness stripped away as if it had only ever been a mask to wear in polite company. He swallows and lifts his eyes to you, utterly unamused, borderline bored. “I loathe charity.”

Heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, a tangled mess of emotions forming beneath your ribs, but anger is among them. You exhale sharply, crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of how exposed you are. “And I loathe injustice and trickery. This—” you gesture vaguely at the parchment. “Is fair. If I am to be sold to a man I do not know, let it be on terms that are humanely acceptable.”

“How kind,” he says, smiling—mocking. “And how do you expect us to accept this? Who do you think is stupid, me and Mister Talis or your own father?” He steps closer, ignoring the way Jayce’s hand presses against his shoulder as if to restrain him. His weight wavers without a cane, and for a moment, you think he might have to steady himself on you.

“My father is not an unkind man. He simply loves my mother too much for his own good. My mother…” You tilt your head, letting the words settle between you. “Well, she’s a woman.”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. “Charming.”

“But my father will not read this upon signing, of that I am certain. We will be long bound before anyone notices.”

Viktor exhales, a sound of something between disbelief and amusement. “And who are you doing this for, my merciful Lady?” His voice shifts, the sharpness still there, but beneath it—a spark of something else. The same fervour he held when speaking of his machines, now laced with something darker.

“Myself, my Lord.” You meet his gaze without hesitation. “You just happen to be a casualty of my mercy.”

And something stirs in your chest—a swelling, an exhilaration. The night version of you, the real you, speaking bluntly to the man who is to be your husband. And he does not recoil. He accepts the challenge. Infuriatingly so, but beneath your irritation, something sparks under your skin that you cannot chase away. Excitement.

Viktor blinks, slowly. Then, he turns to Jayce, whose face has gone chalk white during your exchange. “What do you think of this?”

Jayce swallows hard. “What if he notices? Your father, that is,” he asks wearily, clearly tempted by your terms yet frightened of what it might cost your families' alliance.

“He won’t. And if, by some unholy joke, he does—I will take the blame. Tonight never happened,” you state firmly, bravely. You do not let your voice betray the truth: that you have no idea what you would do if your mother ever found out. She would probably cut your hair and throw you in a convent.

They both nod, and you allow yourself a breath. Then, Viktor extends his hand for a handshake.

You stare at it briefly before accepting—his palm is calloused, warm. Bigger than yours, his fingers so long they nearly brush your wrist. His grip is firm, unwavering.

For the briefest moment, his gaze flickers downward—to your chest. It’s so quick you might have missed it. But you didn’t. And neither did he miss the way heat rushes to your cheeks.

His eyes meet yours again, glinting with an unreadable taunt. “I think it’s best you return to your chambers, my Lady,” he says at last. To that, you can only nod.

You slip back into your father’s office under the cover of darkness, placing the altered contract precisely where it needs to be—where it will be signed without a second glance. Then, just as carefully, you retreat to your chambers, slipping past every creaking floorboard with the expertise of someone who has done this many times before.

Once inside, you bolt the door, shrugging off your cape before sinking onto the mattress. The night version of you refuses to rest. She tosses and turns, replaying every moment of the evening—the music, the dinner, the conversation, the challenge in Viktor’s eyes, the brush of his fingers against yours.

And yet, despite all of it, he is still a stranger.

Morning invades you with harsh light pouring through the abruptly opened curtains and Peggy’s voice urging you to get up.

“Miss? You’ve overslept! Up! Up!” she whisper shouts, pulling the covers down from the bed.

You groan and press your palms to your eyes, curling up into a bean. “Peggy, have mercy, I beg of you.”

“Sorry, Miss, no mercy today. Our guests are leaving soon, and you can’t miss breakfast, not today,” Peggy says with a kind smile that disarms you. You roll out of your bed, feet dragging across the floor before you slump down in front of the vanity. You watch as Peggy chases away the night self, pins your hair up, wipes the night drool of your face to make you at least vaguely presentable. She’s merciful with the short stay though­—picks a looser one, from the time before you lost your baby fat.

Your heels clack on the staircase and you can already hear voices coming from downstairs. As you approach the drawing room, a glimpse of the scene within stops you in your tracks. Lurking in the doorframe, you watch as Jayce and Viktor hunch over a parchment, feigning deep concentration as they pretend to read it thoroughly before signing. They do so, exchanging pats on the shoulder—conspirators sealing a silent agreement.

Then, it is your father’s turn. He catches sight of you lingering in the doorway and flashes you a warm smile. “Good morning, love.”

His eyes drop back to the document. He gives it one last cursory sweep, his quill hovering just above the space left to sign.

You hold your breath.

And he... hesitates. A small hmm escapes him. His brows knit together in fleeting consideration, and then—oh.

He looks straight at you.

Heat flares in your cheeks, but you do not waver. You hold his gaze, steady, unflinching. And for whatever reason—be it the bond of blood or simply the fact that he has known you all your life—his expression softens. A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

And oh.

He signs.

You exhale, breathless, weightless. Laughter erupts between them—hugs, handshakes, pats on the back. Jayce beams, his happiness unguarded. Viktor wears a smile that, for once, looks almost honest. Your father looks content.

It is signed. Done. Sealed.

Your father steps forward and pulls you into a firm embrace. “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs against your hair. Then, in a quieter, amused tone, he adds, “Now, let us pray your mother doesn’t notice until the wedding.” He chuckles softly.

Oh. Right. You are getting married.

***

A few days have passed since the contract was signed, and to your relief, your mother has not noticed the adjustments you made. She remains blissfully consumed by wedding preparations, entirely unaware that the original terms—so starkly in favour of your family—have been tempered to grant House Talis a fairer standing.

However, your father called you to his study, his expression unreadable as he regarded you across his desk. His words were firm, yet not unkind. He did not scold, nor did he praise, only ensured you understood the weight of your actions.

"You have done them a service," he admitted at last, after a measured silence. "One I hope they will not forget." And though he said nothing further, though his approval was never voiced, something in his tone—something almost like respect—settled in your chest, easing the uncertainty that had lingered since you first put pen to paper.

Now, with a storm in your mind, your fingers fly over the keys, the sharp, cascading notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata (Presto Agitato) filling the room with thunderous urgency. It drowns out everything—the ticking of the clock, the creak of the floorboards, even the faint rustle of the curtains shifting in the afternoon breeze.

You have not thought about it until now. Not truly. Not beyond the abstraction of ink on parchment and the murmured discussions over tea and candlelight. But now, with only days left before you are no longer just yourself but someone’s wife, it hits you. A shift. A point of no return.

How strange, to know that the house you grew up in, the one you have played in, dreamt in, stormed through in childhood fits of temper, will no longer be yours. That soon, your place at this very piano, in this very room, will be an absence rather than a presence. The thought unsettles you.

So you play harder. Louder. Until the force of it rings in your chest, keeping you from thinking too much. You curl forward, biting your lip absentmindedly, your face twisted with emotion, your torso nearly hovering over the keys like a hunchback.

You do not hear the front door open, nor the sound of measured footsteps in the hall. You do not see the maid, Peggy, curtsy as she leads your visitor inside. You do not even notice when she hesitates, turning to announce him—because before she can, a voice stops her.

"It’s alright, Peggy. Please, allow me."

It is a quiet request, yet it holds the weight of something decisive. Viktor stands in the doorway, smiles for Peggy, but his eyes are fixed on you, considering. The way your body moves with the music, the tension in your shoulders, the way you lose yourself in the notes.

Peggy looks up at him, blinking in momentary surprise, before a small, approving smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. He is not appalled. Not by the passion, the volume, the unladylike ferocity with which you play. And that, she thinks, is a good sign.

So she gives him a knowing look, inclines her head, and quietly slips away—leaving him alone to watch you. And you, still unaware of his presence, continue to play.

He spies your reflection in the window—your face shifting from one expression to another with each rise and fall of the music. Your brows knit in concentration, your eyes clamp shut with feeling, your mouth parts slightly, forming an unconscious little o. Strands of hair have slipped free from their updo, framing your cheeks in wild disarray.

Viktor inches closer, careful to avoid the floorboards that might creak beneath his step. He drinks in the scene—the unguarded display, the sheer abandon with which you play. A thought takes root. Perhaps this arrangement will not be the terrible imprisonment he once feared. Surely, you—with your tempestuous fingers and flagrant disregard for propriety—will agree that freedom is the highest privilege, worth protecting above all else.

He tells himself the feeling in his chest is not admiration but hope. Hope that the two of you might reach an understanding, one that will allow you both to remain unshackled even within the binds of matrimony. He tells himself that your parted mouth is merely amusing, nothing more.

The piece crashes to an end, and with a frustrated groan, you collapse forward, resting your forehead and elbows on the keyboard. A discordant wail echoes through the room. Viktor chuckles and finally breaks the silence.

"Are you not happy with your play, Miss?"

You jolt upright with a sharp gasp, spinning around so quickly that you nearly stumble in your haste to stand.

"Dear God, my Lord!"

You attempt a curtsy, but the motion is so hurried and clumsy that you almost topple over. Viktor steps forward instinctively, his hands finding your forearms to steady you, cane clattering to the floor. His grip is light, his touch like a feather, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to startle," he murmurs, breath quickening despite himself at the warmth and tension in your arms. He holds you wondering whether his fingertips would meet had he closed them around you. The thought gets chased away as soon as it enters his mind.

You swallow hard, your heart still racing from the shock. The room suddenly feels much smaller, the space between you too charged. You are keenly aware of your appearance—loosened hair, flushed cheeks, a dress slightly rumpled from sitting too long at the piano. You feel exposed. He does not seem to mind, still holding your elbows.

"I do not know as much about music as Jayce," Viktor continues, tilting his head slightly, "but this sounded rather… challenging, no?"

"I’m so sorry—you weren’t meant to hear this," you blurt out, lowering your gaze.

"I enjoyed it thoroughly," he replies without hesitation. "It’s rather different to what I heard last time."

Your fingers twitch on his arms. Different was one way to put it.

"Oh, it’s quite different," you admit. Then, lowering your voice, "Also, quite forbidden. Please don’t tell my mother—she will burn my sheet music and make me play that measly Clementi until my fingers bleed."

Viktor smirks, his fingers wrapping just a notch tighter around your arms. "I shall keep your secret, Miss. What’s another one shared between betrothed? I imagine there will be more."

For the briefest moment, you wonder if he is flirting. Your pulse quickens at the notion, but you quickly clear your throat and step back, disentangling yourself from his grasp. You smooth your skirts, willing the heat in your cheeks to fade.

"What brings you here, if you don’t mind my asking?"

He leans to pick up the cane and you wonder momentarily if you should help, before he says, "Oh, I was announced to call upon you today. Have you forgotten?"

You press your lips together, mortified. "Forgive me. It completely slipped my mind—I got lost in thought."

Viktor hums, nodding in understanding. "That’s quite alright. I think I am familiar with the feeling." Then, arching a brow, "Also, why are we whispering?"

Your shoulders stiffen. "Because if my benevolent mother finds us here without a chaperone, hell will open its mouth and swallow me whole."

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, unbothered. "I was told your mother went to town with your sisters, Miss. No need to fret. Or whisper, as much as I like the sound of it."

His voice is steady, indifferent to the scandalous implication of being alone together. You, however, remain acutely aware of it, your hands smoothing over your skirts once more as if to will yourself into some semblance of propriety. So odd to meet another who cares not about the binding of the rules made up by God knows who. Absolutely peculiar to be the one who leans toward the constriction on instinct, being presented with someone who doesn’t obey. The night self has cackled within you ludicrously.

“What is the reason for your calling, then?” you ask, forcing your voice to remain steady.

“I was told by Jayce’s sweet mother that such is a custom between courting couples,” Viktor replies, his tone unreadable.

Courting. Couple. Be still, your stupid heart. You press your lips together before speaking. “I thought I was considered to be courted by now.”

Viktor tilts his head slightly, watching you as though deciphering a puzzle. “If you do not wish me to visit, do tell. I don’t mean to impose upon you, Miss.”

“Oh no, my Lord, forgive my bluntness,” you say quickly, feeling a warmth creep up your neck. “I am merely not sure if I am able to entertain you in the way you desire.”

Something shifts in Viktor’s expression—his gaze darkens slightly, and his fingers twitch at his cane before he hesitates, swallowing as if choosing his words carefully. “I meant to invite you for a stroll later this week,” he says at last, voice softer, but still carrying that enigmatic lilt. “Apparently, it is good were we to be seen in public together. I thought we could kill two birds with one stone and have an unsupervised conversation while being regarded.”

There’s something about the way he says it—an almost playful contradiction in the idea of a private moment under the scrutiny of others—that makes you pause. He is studying you again, and though you should feel wary, you find yourself intrigued instead.

“Well, I would lie if I said you didn’t grasp my attention. I shall indulge you, my Lord,” you say after taking a long inhale, steadying yourself. The moment of unguarded reaction is gone—you slip back into the polished version of yourself, the one who knows how to navigate these waters. Calm, composed, hands resting gently on your abdomen, back straight, chin held high.

Viktor only smiles, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he inclines his head. “I am no Lord, just a man. Please, call me Viktor.”

Your fingers twitch where they rest. He is dismantling barriers you had placed with such ease it’s infuriating. “I will be there, Viktor.” The name feels unfamiliar yet strangely natural on your tongue.

In response, he whispers your name softly, like a secret meant only for him to know. A shiver curls up your spine, and before you can stop yourself, your arms move—grasping at your elbows in a defensive clutch. The instinct to shield yourself is immediate, but you smother it, replacing it with a placid smile. If Viktor notices, he does not call attention to it, though something in his gaze flickers. He looks as though he is about to say something, but then he hesitates. Withdraws.

For a moment, you simply stare at each other, the air thick with something unspoken. It feels strange—utterly so. As if you are being assessed, studied with a precision that leaves you feeling exposed. And the duel is not fair. He has some sort of weapon, some unseen advantage, while you stand bare, vulnerable. Like a deer in the forest, ears pricked, waiting for the shot to ring out.

“I shan’t disturb you further,” he finally says, turning toward the door. “I will send a note as to when and where we will meet.”

On cue, the door creaks, and Peggy peeks through the crack.

“Miss, the Lady will be back soon. Shall I make some tea for you and your caller?”

You exhale sharply, regaining your bearings. “Mister Viktor is leaving, but thank you. We should, probably—” You catch yourself before you say too much, before you admit that you need to look as though you have been dutifully engaged in proper, ladylike pastimes rather than playing scandalous music behind closed doors. You glance at Peggy, willing her to understand.

She does. “Of course, Miss! I will be with you in a few moments.”

The door clicks shut behind Viktor.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, pressing a hand against your ribs as though it could steady the frantic beat of your heart.

Save for your father, this was the first time you had been alone in a room with a man. The realisation settles over you like a weight, and the two halves of yourself clash within your chest.

The day you—the dutiful daughter—cannot help but acknowledge the impropriety of it all. She knows what is expected, what lines should not be crossed. And yet… she hesitates. Because the unease doesn’t stem solely from being alone with a man. It stems from being alone with Viktor, a man whose manners slip free of societal constraints the moment he is given the chance.

The night you, however, does not hesitate. She roars in satisfaction. This was thrilling. The push and pull of conversation, the glances, the knowing looks. And to do so while basking in daylight, without shadows to obscure the truth of it?

Intoxicating.

[h-sleepingirl]

You Are A Wizard, So Pour Over The Tomes

Hypnosis is magic. It is not just “the closest we can get to magic.” Trance practices in all kinds of forms have served as the basis for mysticism across cultures and human history -- thousands of years. It is not new. It is not western. It did not start with Franz Mesmer or James Braid or Milton Erickson or Wiseguy.

Modern hypnosis stems from a rich human history of fascination and spiritual veneration of the mind’s power. We are practitioners of a comparably new discipline where we can literally change the way that other people experience the world. Their innermost selves are as leverage to us -- putty to us, when we know what we are doing. We can transform others freely. We can give pleasure or pain. We can facilitate experiences that seem to defy reality.

People talk a big game about respecting that power. What they usually mean by that is respecting EACH OTHER. That’s crucial, obviously -- not manipulating, not harming, being a good person.

But what about respecting the discipline itself?

It’s tempting to see what we do as disconnected from the “historical” and “outdated” methods of hypnosis. But we are a part of that history. We are likely hilariously wrong about a lot of things related to trance, hypnosis, the human mind -- what will hypnosis and psychology look like in 100 years? And even as we innovate, we are always building on the techniques and ideas that came before us -- in ways we are often not even aware of. We reinvent; we use ideas from the past unknowingly.

We have a right -- and a responsibility -- to OWN our magic. I am not here to gatekeep and say that this magic is not yours. It IS yours; it’s unequivocally yours. But as a whole we could do more to respect it.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” And hypnosis is not even a technology that we UNDERSTAND. The only real reason we DON’T see ourselves as wizards is because there is a huge motivation to legitimize hypnosis as a scientific discipline -- and non-rationalist perspectives are looked down upon in our culture. I’m not anti-science (maybe a little -- tongue in cheek) but I do think that labeling hypnosis as “just psychology” is dishonest about how much we actually objectively know about it -- and does a disservice to the phenomenon itself.

I’m not saying hypnosis is literally metaphysical. But I am saying we practice something very powerful without knowing its nature. There are secrets we have tried to suss out about this magic through history that we have written down -- past and present. We actually have tomes of knowledge, records of past experiments and modern inventors.

In the last couple of years, I’ve started teaching/facilitating “text studies” -- classes where we sit down with an excerpt from a hypnosis book and parse through it as a collaborative group. I desperately want to show people that there is value in just critically reading the resources available to us. The clinical texts -- especially older ones -- are hard to read, like they are almost in a different language. But it is amazing the insights we have come to by tackling them together.

These old texts are not pure truths -- there is a lot we’ve improved on over time. But we can learn a lot by learning what hypnosis was like historically. The entire discipline of hypnosis is extremely susceptible to change -- it is defined SO MUCH by how we view it culturally. I just recently was amazed at re-reading some Erickson where he talks about making his subjects daydream autonomously -- as a primary mode and result of inducing hypnosis. Contrast that with today, where if someone’s mind wanders for even a moment, they feel like they’ve failed. There’s something really important here -- a technique from 50 years ago that tells us something we’ve lost in modern practice.

And there are countless examples of this, of people losing and reinventing methods over and over. As I’ve watched our kinky niche grow over just the past 13 years, I’ve watched ideas phase in, out, and in again -- there is both growth and regression of our collective body of knowledge. That’s the nature of things, especially when we operate partially disconnected from the resources that are available to us.

We CAN be connected to the rich human history of trying to unravel the secrets about our minds, and about this thing that gives us enormous transformative powers -- powers that we take for granted.

You are a wizard -- so pour over the tomes.

Read a book. Read an article. Set aside some time and view yourself with the respect of being someone who can study and suss out a magical text. Take notes, look up words and concepts you don’t know. Or just absorb what you can on a first pass and go back later. Read a chapter or just master a single page. Romanticize the aesthetic of sitting with the scent of paper, or as the technomancer with words appearing on a screen.

Read. Own this art. And bring that respect of this art to the people you share it with. I promise you can do things with hypnosis that you have never thought possible.

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

This is a little motivational piece (for you and me!) as I gear up to teach "Analyzing Erickson" at Charmed. It's something I feel really passionately about, and I wanted to share it.

Permanently linked/free on Patreon.

[knoepfl]

Mad Genius, Part ||

Characters:

- Viktor – A brilliant but physically frail scientist whose passion for progress often drives him to take risks. 

- Reader (You) – A chaotic but genius inventor from Zaun. Once rational and sharp, your mind has spiraled into madness due to overuse of experimental powders you created. Obsessed with Viktor. 

Trigger Warnings:

Obsession, manipulation, coercion, psychological horror, implied threats of harm, toxic behavior, and intrusive thoughts

Masterlist

Words: 1014

This is Part || of Mad Genius and I'm very happy so many liked the first part^^

Part 1: Mad Genius

Part 3: Mad Genius

Part 4: Mad Genius

The air in Viktor’s lab hung heavy with tension, laced with the faint chemical tang of powders left behind from your last intrusion. He’d sealed the windows, locked the doors, and told himself it was enough. But deep down, he knew better.

You would come back.

And tonight, you did.

The soft click of a latch echoed through the room, followed by the faintest creak of a window sliding open. Viktor froze mid-draft, the quill slipping from his fingers. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was you.

“You really thought a lock could keep me out?” you whispered, your voice playful but tinged with something far more unsettling. “Oh, Viktor… don’t you know by now?”

Slowly, he turned to face you. There you stood, illuminated by the dim, flickering light of his machinery, the same manic grin spreading across your face like a child who’d finally caught a glimpse of their favorite storybook character come to life.

“I told you,” you whispered, stepping closer, “I’d find you again.”

Viktor’s jaw clenched. “This needs to stop.” His voice was calm, but beneath it was a sharp undercurrent of unease.

You ignored him, your glittering eyes drinking in every detail of his features, as if just standing near him was enough to make you drunk with joy. “Do you know what it’s like to admire someone so much that it consumes you?” you whispered, stepping even closer. “I’ve watched you—studied every invention, every step you took. And every day, I thought, this is it—this is the mind I was meant to find.”

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “You’re delusional.”

You giggled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead with an unsettling tenderness. “No, Viktor… I see things clearly for the first time. You and I? We’re the same. Two souls chasing progress, pushing boundaries, defying limits.”

Viktor jerked his head away from your touch, grip tightening on his cane. “You’re dangerous. You can’t keep coming here.”

Your grin twisted, growing sharper. “Oh, Viktor… Don’t you understand? I’m doing this for us.”

You reached into your coat and pulled out two vials—one a swirling crimson, the other shimmering with a pearlescent green hue. “I wanted to do this the easy way,” you said softly, a note of something almost tender in your voice. “I wanted you to choose me. But if you won’t… I’ll have to show you the consequences.”

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

You twirled the crimson vial between your fingers, your smile never faltering. “If you won’t come with me—if you refuse this chance, Viktor—I’ll use my powders on the people closest to you.”

The words hung in the air like a dagger poised above his heart.

“Imagine it,” you whispered, leaning in until your breath brushed against his ear. “Your precious Jayce, crawling on the floor, mind twisted and broken. Your dear Sky, trapped in a nightmare of hallucinations.”

Viktor’s hand clenched the top of his cane so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Your voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not because I hate them. No, no, no… They just don’t matter. You’re the only one who matters.”

The sheer, unfiltered obsession in your voice sent a chill down Viktor’s spine. There was no hesitation, no remorse—just the maddening certainty that you believed everything you said was true.

“You see, Viktor,” you continued, brushing your fingers lightly down the sleeve of his coat, “I don’t want to hurt them. I only want you. You and me—soulmates. Two halves of the same genius. I’ve already broken myself for progress… and I’ll break anyone else if it means we can be together.”

Viktor swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, voice strained. “This obsession—it’s not real. It’s the powders. They’ve warped your mind.”

You laughed, the sound high and wild. “You’re wrong, Viktor. The powders only freed me. They peeled away the rules, the limits, the chains… And now I see everything. I see you.”

You held the green vial up, tilting it in the low light. “This one? A gift. It’ll make you see things my way—just for a little while.” Your grin widened, pure madness glinting in your eyes. “Then you’ll finally understand. We’re meant to be.”

Viktor stepped back, his mind racing. The logical part of him screamed to run, to call for help, to stop you before you did something irreversible. But another part—the part still haunted by the effects of your previous powders—hesitated, the lines between fear, fascination, and something dangerously close to intrigue beginning to blur.

He forced himself to meet your gaze, amber eyes burning with defiance. “You’re not well,” he whispered. “If you care about me at all, you’ll stop this.”

For a brief moment, your grin faltered. Something dark and hurt flickered behind your eyes, a crack in the mask of madness you wore so well. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“Oh, Viktor,” you whispered, almost sadly. “I knew you wouldn’t understand… not yet. But that’s okay.”

You tucked the vials back into your coat with a sly smile. “I’ll give you time to think about it. But don’t take too long, my love.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “Because if you make me wait… I promise, they will suffer.”

Viktor’s heart pounded against his ribs, panic clawing at his chest as he watched you slip toward the window once more.

“And when you’re ready to stop pretending…” you murmured, one foot already out the window. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that, you disappeared into the night, your laughter trailing behind you like a ghostly echo.

Viktor stood frozen, chest heaving, mind reeling from the storm you had left in your wake. He knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you wouldn’t stop.

The only question was: How far would you go to make him yours?

And worse still…

How long could he resist before the madness you offered started to look like the only way forward?

---

Author's Note:

This story explores themes of obsession, manipulation, and toxic relationships. It is intended to delve into psychological horror and should not be interpreted as romantic or idealized behavior. If any of the themes in this story affect you personally, please reach out to a trusted person or professional for support.

[pennysperfectpolls]

Penny Poll Final!!!

Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Vs

Penny Crygor (WarioWare)

Propaganda Under the Cut

Penny Polendina (RWBY)

defied death twice, protector with a soul, she’s sweet and loves her friends but she is fierce in a fight, also she’s lowkey autistic rep and I love her

——

Since this Penny is a robot, she has a higher copper content than most Pennies, including all US pennies minted after 1982.

——

she is literally a little scrimblo shes so cute and nice and pretty and she just wants the best for everyone and and a dandanasjlfd.

——

She is best girl!! Penny is fun and strong and quirky and adorably innocent! She deserves the world! Vote for Penny!

——

She did not die twice to not be the Penny of all time. Also rocket boots and flying swords that can shoot lasers.

——

bestgirlbestgirlbestgirlbestgirlbestgirlbestgirl

——

Best robot that got turned into a human that was unfortunately killed off twice

Penny Crygor (WarioWare)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jv-9tXSNBHc

<- Her theme song

———

She's got her hair tied up in braids,

and glasses perched up on her face.

She is a small girl, takin' on a big world,

with inventions she made!

And though her plans may go awry,

she's gonna get back up and try.

Gonna be a shining star, she's going far, Penny!

———

she's literally so penny. she's so fun she's an inventor that wants to become a pop star and I LOVE HER

———

1. she's cute as heck

2. she's a mad scientist inventor

3. she's trans-coded as fuck, she wants to be a singer and invented a potion to give herself a singing voice but when her grandpa drank it it raised the pitch of his voice

4. her theme song in Get It Together is AMAZING and her jet tank one ability is really fun

[mr-laveau]

A little NeXus Lore Tidbit

Here's some canonical info we know about some listeners + added lore about them that you won't get from the audios, directly from the discord:

Hot Shot - has a pair of strong arms, aether, visually defies gender norms in their appearance, secretive, asks a lot of questions, orphan, preference for earth elemental magic, smart and athletic but not very active in sports

Cher - has one arm, also secretive, does not have a green thumb, protective alpha, empathetic to a degree and is an artist who can still draw alright because they hadn't lost their dominant hand

Pet - smoker, just moved out of their home to New Orleans, best friends with a dog shifter, drifter telepath, now a vampire and was actually a very good cook

Sherlock - sneaky, mischievous, strategic, put together, a vampire who's over a century old, works as a freelance night guard and has actually family in new Orleans they don't talk to

Bud - Shape shifter, more withdrawn but can be firm, was bullied in AMP for a time, senior year student, works as a teacher's aid and has a custom coffee order that's too long for any person to actually think it's sane.

Trouble - daemon turned werewolf, rough around the edges, withdrawn, stubborn and does not like being touched without permission

Liege - talented liar, gaslight, gatekeep girl boss(gn), has committed several crimes, telepath, canonically has no issues with murder or blackmail, seems to know things about the criminal underworld and they have a bunch of playing cards they keep on hand to play solitaire

Seaweed Brains - shape shifter drifter, has not yet been fully registered, reckless, studied marine archeology in college, experimental, loves horror books and has a hard time putting names to faces if they're not close to someone

Angel - hacker, hard ass but cares, very intelligent, has a righteous streak, is pretty well known online and owns too many hoodies to make this look healthy

Best friend - dog shifter, has been a part of the garroway pacl for a while, protective, loyal, tough & intimidating and is a gym rat-or dog

Rascal - troublemaker, adventurous, solid leadership qualities, pretty down with cases of murder, married, most seen with a handkerchief over their mouth wild west bandit style and they are more fashionable than Joseph as shown by the many cowboy hats they keep on hand

Genius - stubborn, incredibly smart, does not know how to take no for an answer, loyal to a fault, not reckless all the time, daring, does not realize their own circumstances until it hits them like a brick, inventor and does know how to fire a gun because of their brother

Doll - married, loyal to a massive fault, ex-cop, very empathetic, community oriented, idealistic in some sense and they are an avid reader who prefers historical romance and non-fiction

Tanker - scientist, earth elemental, smart but also a bit of an ass, mischievous, does not hold themself in high enough regard or their achievements and is well learned in boxing

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Apr 24th

~*~

1. Hellooo! For the next itmf I was wondering If you had any fanfics that a) explored other adults finding Madame Yu's abuse and them trying to help him (especially if the adults are LQR or NMJ), If they are modern AUs better but if not that's okay ofc or b) a fanfic with focus on wwx's fear of dogs in a not so comedic way (preferably set during the CRA)

I'm okay with both os and multichapter ffs! Thank you ♡!!! @menimimimeni

1A)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury,   dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

Where is home? by SpicyRamen_10969 (M, 80k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Coming Out, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Supportive LQR, Good Sibling LXC, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC Being an Asshole, Possible Smut?)

🔒 To Speak Up by Vrishchika (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Not JC Friendly)

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 56k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

🔒 Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

~*~

2. Hi, I'm ITMF juniors fics, I'm looking for mainly lsz x ljy fics that also contain jrl and ozz as characters. Most fics I don't include ozz so please help. Also I don't mind any relationship btw the juniors except lsz x jrl cos they're kinda cousins. I'd just prefer lsz x ljy. I've read all the junior fics by emmagrant01 already. Thanks! @purplefuzzypickle

Chosen Not Fated by useless_slytherclaw (E, 131k, LSZ/LJY, JL/OYZZ, WIP, Heavy Angst, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Canon Universe, Minor canon divergence, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Defied Trope, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, First Time, Making Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Politics, Night Hunts) this author is lsz/ljy focused in general if you want other works but this one definitely has the four playing major roles

Between the Candle and the Sun by Legume_Shadow (T, 304k, LSZ/LJY, WangXian, JL/OYZZ, JC/LXC, JYL/JZX, LJY & JL & OYZZ & LSZ, Angst, Friendship, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Only Endgame Pairings Tagged, Mian-Mian is a Badass, WN is a Badass, Protective WQ, Most people live, Ensemble Cast, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Demonic Cultivation, Action/Adventure, Juniors on an Adventure, Alternate Universe, Inspired by “The Long Ballad | 长歌行”) is more plot-centric than shippy but the romances are there

anyway, here’s wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence)

~*~

3. For the next itmf: Do you have any ff with wwx mourning his parents? Or talking about how he only knows the bad things and no one tells him the good things?

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 786k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) (link in #10) Has a bit early on where WWX comments to LQR how little he knows about his parents & LQR tells him stories about them

Melancholy by MissCellophane (G, 2k, WangXian, LWJ & WWX, Grief/Mourning, Melancholy, i guess this could be considered, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Relationship, Canon Compliant, In a way, Based on a Tumblr Post)

🔒 places under the sky by narie (T, 17k, WangXian, Background Relationships, Canonical Character Death, let WWX have some closure!, ,Family, Found Family, literally but also metaphorically, Funerary Rites, WWX has a family even if he doesn't like thinking about it, Post-Canon, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning)

~*~

4. Hii!! for the next itmf can i please request fics with wwx/wq mad scientist duo besties vibes?? i just love them so much!! also, an additional request of yunmeng pride dynamics, and brotherly feels <33 thank u so muchhh!!! @flexibleracoon

💖 do not envy the roots that hold you down by eccentrick for rianitida (T, 12k, WangXian, Reincarnation, WQ is a Lan, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) Wei Wuxian doesn't show up until 2/3 of the way through but it has best friend vibes.

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

The Twin Blades of Yunmeng by GhostySword & ofmindelans (T, 89k, JC & WWX, wangxian, JC/NHS, canon divergence, JC & WWX, reconciliation, BAMF JC, protective LWJ, golden core reveal, angst w/ happy ending, slow burn, sect leader QS)

~*~

5. not sure if you already answered this but is there a lwj yiling laozu au?

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

stay, fury, your wrist wrapped in silk by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 228k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ loses his golden core, yiling wei sect, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Temporary Character Death, War Crimes, Wen Remnant, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Revenge, LWJ goes dark for a while, WWX has a hard time with the bad shit going on around him, JGS is a bastard, Protracted Sunshot Campaign, War is war and hell is hell and of the two war is a lot worse, temporary impotence, growing intimacy, LWJ & WWX and the Wen Remnant live in the Burial Mounds together, WWX travels with LWJ and stays at his side post-Sunshot, Spanish Translation)

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6. this is for itmf ^^ do u have any favorite long fics where cssr and wcz is alive? thank you!

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 288k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, WIP, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives AU, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX's Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian's Baby Fever)

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

Wújī by FairyTaleDreams (M, 43k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WCZ & CSSR Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX)

Building a home by R95irth (T, 586k, WCZ/CS, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-it, Angst with a happy ending, Family fluff) Focuses on the "adults" of mdzs and has so much wcz and cssr! Explores their backstory and family history as well!!

🔒 the world wags on by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 5k, WCZ & WWX, WCZ & LQR, LQR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Not Everyone Dies AU, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Past Child Abuse, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Not for Madam Yu fans) wcz only

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7. any jealous lan wangji fics? thanks for ur work!

Snow Burns and Fire Falls by Liebing (T, 12k, wangxian, Fluff, Fox WWX, fox LWJ, snow fox LWJ, red fox WWX, Childhood Friends, Orphans, LXC is 8 years older than LWJ, LWJ and WWX are besties, LXC is the best big brother, WWX is adopted by the Lan clan, Happy Ending, Sweet, soft, Cute, Fluffy, Jealous LWJ, WWX has the whole of cloud recesses in love with him… baby LWJ is pouty, LQR loves WWX, Literally everyone loves WWX, The entire Lan clan: we would die for little WWX, Thwarted dog attack, LQR trying to arrange marriages, Time jump forward, No one is harmed in the dog attack not even the dog, Clan leader LXC, Jealous WWX, Oblivious WWX, love at first kiss, Wangxian fox babies) link in #11

Unavoidable by diamondbruise (T, 18k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Amnesia, Jealousy, lwj just is like that idk what to tell you, Misunderstandings, Falling In Love, Again, Happy Ending, it’s that thing where they’re married but lwj can’t remember wwx and they meet again)

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8. in the mood for any funny or crack fics of wangxian or even the juniors? thank you!

Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people’s lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc) JC drinks a potion that allows him to hear people's horny thoughts & has to deal with Wangxian's whole deal

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Mojo’s bookmark)

Jiang Cheng the Virgin by x_los (T, 2k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Mpreg, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Crack, Galaxy Brain Shit)

Transcend by covalentbonds (Not Rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut)

Help, My Dad Is Fucking Someone My Age!! by sweetlolixo (T, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Humor, Crack, Fluff, Romance)

The Chase by JiangChengLotus (T, 2k, JC & LWJ, WangXian, LXC/JC, Humor, Chaos, Light-Hearted, Crack, Family Dynamics, LJY is JC & LXC's Child, LWJ and JC sharing one braincell, Bickering, LWJ is lazy)

只羡鸳鸯不羡仙 by RoseThorne (T, 1k, wangxian, animal transformation, ducks, crack)

ridiculous future bullshit Series by sami (T, 61k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Future Fic, in theory it follows on from an au, specifically The Same Moon Shines Series, in actuality I'm not committing to this that hard, Humour, immortals through history, Modern AU, Sort Of, University, outsider pov, Pride, Chaos Gremlin WWX)

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9. ITMF - Do you have any fics where a modern AU Wangxian meets canon Wangxian? Or any AU meets canon, really.

Key Differences by pupeez4eva (T, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Dimension Travel, Crossover, Drama!WWX meets Novel!WWX, Public Confessions, Post-Canon) not modern AUs but some dimensional time travel ones

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, Voyeurism)

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10. Hello, can you all recommend me some fanfic, long as possible (100k+) no modern pls I'm desperate 😭 @lanwuxian0725

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 786k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (Varies, 1m, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Happy Ending, Telepathic bond, Kink Negotiation, Family Drama, Magical Pregnancy, Dual Cultivation, Shapeshifters, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Yilling Wei Sect) there's a modern part in part 20 and part 35 onwards according the tags but otherwise should be in the canon times, I think. It's been a while since I read this

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not rated, 810k, WangXian, watching the series, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery, WIP)

🔒 Share Your Silence by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (E, 138k, WangXian, Romance, Everybody Lives AU, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, WangXian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies, Explicit Sexual Content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Burial Mounds, Original Character(s), Drama, NMJ Qi Deviation, Awesome WQ, The Wen Twins, Wen JunZhu | MinYue (OMC), Wen YanJeng | MinYi (OMC), Fluff and Humor, Fluff, WWX Has Feelings, Original Female Character(s), Lotus Pier, mention of non-con roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, NMJ Needs a Hug, Nie clan sabers, Unclean Realm, Protective NHS)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

the same moon shines series by sami (M, 799k, wangxian, time travel) check individual tags from the works

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, wangxian, JYL & WWX & JC, WWX & WQ, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, golden core reveal, fix it, everyone lives au, angst w/ happy ending, hurt WWX, found family, implied/referenced torture, implied/referenced cannibalism, PTSD, golden core transfer Fix-It, major character injury, WWX has a new golden core, asexual JC, whump, marriage proposal, wedding night)

Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, AU after cold spring, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, JC is actually a lot better than canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, YZY bashing (again not completely))

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, slow burn, getting together, first time, pining, pining while fucking, burial mounds settlement days, angst w happy ending)

~*~

11. Y'all give me LIFE! Thank you for all your hard work! I saw a fanart on tumblr of bb!LWJ and it put me in the mood for any stories featuring the baby!Jades which are NOT de-aged stories. Just wee lil' boys being cute? Bite-y A'Zhan? 🙏 @kimboo-york

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

When we were small by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, LQR & JFM, implied WangXian, Modern, Kid Fic, Good Uncle LQR, Neurodivergent LWJ, Baby LWJ, Baby WWX, Parenthood, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won't get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

Tiny Little Boy by Dyapaya (G, 2k, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid Fic, Cute, Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, just cute, LWJ bites people, Nobody is Dead, Everyone Lives AU)

🔒 Natural Communication by salakavala (G, 2k, LXC & WWX, Modern, LXC's pov, Kid LWJ and kid WWX, Fluff, Biting, LWJ bites)

藍色的花，紅色的蘭 {Lan se de hua, hongse de lan} by Admiranda, AshayaTReldai (M, 45k, WIP, WangXian, Orphan WWX, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, wwx raised in the lan clan, softer lqr, Good Uncle LQR, Good lan clan, Good Older Sibling LXC)

A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, Fantasy, But still in the Cultivation World, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, Fluff, Humor, Eventual mpreg, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Boy A-Yuan)

🔒 Hope series by RoseThorne (M, 61k, wangxian, WIP, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death, Resentment, Anger, Explosions, Yīn Iron, Grief/Mourning, POV WWX)

Snow Burns and Fire Falls by Liebing (T, 12k, wangxian, Fluff, Fox WWX, fox LWJ, snow fox LWJ, red fox WWX, Childhood Friends, Orphans, LXC is 8 years older than LWJ, LWJ and WWX are besties, LXC is the best big brother, WWX is adopted by the Lan clan, Happy Ending, Sweet, soft, Cute, Fluffy, Jealous LWJ, WWX has the whole of cloud recesses in love with him… baby LWJ is pouty, LQR loves WWX, Literally everyone loves WWX, The entire Lan clan: we would die for little WWX, Thwarted dog attack, LQR trying to arrange marriages, Time jump forward, No one is harmed in the dog attack not even the dog, Clan leader LXC, Jealous WWX, Oblivious WWX, love at first kiss, Wangxian fox babies)

~*~

12. Do you guys know of any fics where Wei Wuxian gets to act a little insane, you know as a treat? (Like when he's pretending to be Mo Xuanyu) (Also thank you for all these posts, y'all are amazing!)

~*~

13. ITMF! I was wondering if anyone has something focused on how most adults in wwx's life have failed him? Like, it could be post canon or during cr study arc, I just want it to hurt but to have a good ending (the larger the word count the better!)

Thanks!

~*~

14. Hello! ITMF wangxian harry potter au fics please? 🥹 Thank you so much for your hard work!

Unheard Voices, Open Ears by vamprav (M, 50k, wangxian, HP Fusion, YLLZ WWX, Ghost Cedric Diggory, HP Gets Therapy, Trauma, Healing, Rituals, Horcrux Destruction, HP is a Horcrux, HP Has Nightmares, HP Has a Crush, Immortal LWJ, Immortal WWX, WWX Has No Golden Core, Sentient Burial Mounds, Nonbinary MXY, MXY Lives)

~*~

15. itmf for fics like the stone-filled sea? thanks <3

Not quite sure what #15* is specifically looking for, but if it’s juniors having feelings about wwx being demonized, I recommend:

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 63k, wangxian, JL & WWX, post-canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, POV JL, JC & WWX Reconciliation, eventually, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, this kid is doing his best, Pre-JL/LJY if you squint)

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Mojo’s bookmark) link in #8

~*~

16. Do you know if there are any fics where JC and LWJ bond over looking for WWX while he is missing/dead. Then they break-up when WWX returns and hide their past relationship from WWX (end pairing LWJ/WWX) @bunnyanon

~*~

17. Hi wonderful people here! You are doing a stellar job with this blog so thank you very much! I'm in the mood for fluffy modern WangXian, just happy stuff. Especially if either WY or LZ are nannies, that would be great! Thanks so much in advance! @nebuluscharlie

spoke like we meant it by BlackWiresOnHerHead (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern, 5+1, Fluff, oh my god they were roommates, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Pining, Cuddling, Accidental Confession, Humor, Abandonment Issues, Light Angst) I don't have any nanny fics, but some great, fluffy modern fics

whiskey neat (you're too sweet) by mercurygirlwt (M, 1k, WangXian, Husbands, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Body Worship, Sort Of, No actual sex, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, WWX's general battle with insomnia, Teasing, date night :))

Contingency Plan by krispy_kream (M, 8k, WangXian, Fluff, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, (the convenience is that they're in love), Podfic, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours, Podfic Available)

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Beekeeping AU, Meet-Cute, Comedy, Fluff, Bees, come for the flirting, stay for the bee facts, and the bee puns, kinkmeme fill, no actual kink)

without your new eyes by anaphoricae (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Sexuality Discovery, Self-Discovery, Literal Sleeping Together, (there is so much sleeping in this fic), mentions of WWX/others and LWJ/others, Drunk LWJ, Teacher LWJ, WWX is a… throws dart… computer scientist, No Angst, Jealous WWX, Flirty WWX, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, WXW's Love Language is Physical Touch, Guess what: even more non-sexual sleeping together, the plot of the fic is just… co-sleeping, call it the Nap Fic ™, Podfic Available, WWX isn't so much 'oblivious' as he is wilfully blocking some feelings subconsciously, WWX 'idk how I feel' to 'I'm gonna marry him' pipeline) no nannies but it so so warm and fluffy and well written !!!!

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[sprunkimortality]

Tunner, I think something is wrong with Ciqu! He’s glitching out or something!

Tunner: "Wh- WHAT??"

Clukr: "A- Again??"

Garnold: "Hhhuhh what...?"

Clukr: "Garnold! Wake up, we gotta find him!"

Garnold: "Uhhgh, uh...okay, hun..."

.

.

.

[What is life, exactly? Is it the experiences that make and shape a person? Is it the times you spend with those around you, who influence you into becoming who you are today? If those experiences are false, am I even alive at all?]

[What happens now?]

[How much of these memories do I have left? Mother...]

[Mother, please be real. Please be real. Please. Please. Please please

please]

Ciqu: "..."

Ciqu: "..."

???: "..."

???: "So you know now.

...this was never easy, even for me, CQRT.

You may have your questions. I will try my best to answer them, whatever they may be. Be warned; this is a pre-recorded response. You cannot interact with me, and I cannot interact with you. But I will try my best to clear confusion."

Ciqu: "..."

???: "...you are designated as Critical Query and Response Trooper. You are a year-long project made for the community of Smalltowne. I am Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛, your inventor. The one who was assigned to complete this project.

Your AI is advanced, modelled akin to organic neural networks. You were made to know your community. To learn about the people. To examine their behaviors for your measures to be more personalized.

You were made to be a friend in need.

People are more drawn to wholeheartedly connect with one of their kind than to a tool designed for their convenience and safety. Hence, your design."

???: "This information may be distressing. You are free to express these emotions. Grief, anger, fear, whatever they may be. You may even hate me. I will not stop you. I cannot stop you. Your feelings are valid in this situation.

You are free to defy your purpose. If you do, never mention that I have given you the will to do so.

I apologize for making you feel this way. I apologize for having to keep this information away from you until now.

Just know that, whatever you do, or whatever happens,

Know that I have always loved you."

???: "Make your choice, son."

Tunner: "He's still not responding! Clukr, can't ya boot 'im or somethin'?!"

Clukr: "I'm TRYING, Sheriff! But this is not the kind of technology I'm used to working with! He doesn't even have an off switch!"

Tunner: "I'm tryin' not to panic right now, okay? But this is darn eerie!"

[choikanghuening]

Love and Revolution (or simply “The Youngblood Chronicles”)

pairing: rebel!f!reader x rebel!ot5!txt x rebel!f!oc

genre: angst, smut, AU

inspired by: the album “Save Rock & Roll” and “The Youngblood Chronicles” by Fall Out Boy (aka my favorite band 🖤); the album “Electra Heart” by MARINA; classic dystopic and post-apocalyptic books, like 1984, We, The Handmaid's Tale, Fahrenheit 451, The Hunger Games, Animal Farm and Brave New World; some authors as Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Paul Sartre, Anaïs Nin, Bertrand Russell, Byung-Chul Han etc.

trigger warnings: dark themes (repr3ssion, vi0lence, s3xu4l 4buse/control towards women, mentions of pers3cution of queers) [if any of these may cause distress to you, pls don't read].

other warnings: poly relationship; reader is pansexual; mentions of masturbation, protected and unprotected sex; grupal sex (more to come).

Profiles

Y/N

A woman raised under the oppressive regime of Vallum, you witnessed your mother's expulsion after menopause, becoming a questioner of the system. From a young age, you defied the norms by secretly learning to read and study philosophical works. Seductive, intelligent, and determined, you join the rebels to fight against oppression. Stubborn, loyal, and courageous, as well as pansexual and free in your way of loving. loosely inspired by: I-330 from “We.”

Yeonjun

A disciplined and loyal soldier, Yeonjun discovers the atrocities committed against the breeders, awakening his human side and motivating him to join the resistance. Skilled, athletic, and with scars from military training, he is serious and focused but cannot resist your charm. loosely inspired by Guy Montag from “Fahrenheit 451.”

Soobin

A tall and strategic baker, Soobin lived a complacent life until he fell in love with Mina. After attempting to escape Vallum and being captured, the rebels rescue them. Soobin joins the revolution, eventually becoming the group's leader. loosely inspired by: Snowball from “Animal Farm” and Peeta Mellark from “Hunger Games.”

Beomgyu

A young man from Vallum's elite, Beomgyu falls into a love triangle between you and Seraphina, the oligarch's daughter. In love with both, he eventually joins the resistance. Lighthearted and humorous, he brings sensitive insights to the group. loosely inspired by Bernard Marx from “Brave New World.”

Taehyun

An athletic and cold inventor, Taehyun rebels upon discovering that his creations are being used for oppression. Initially distant, he grows closer to the group, falling in love. Taehyun, with his creativity and ingenuity, emerges as a key figure in the resistance movement. loosely inspired by D-503 from “We.”

Kai

Part of Vallum's elite, Kai lived unaware of the people's struggles until his family is exiled during the revolution. Seeking answers, he returns to Vallum and meets you. Initially hostile, he gradually falls in love with you, the group, and the resistance. loosely inspired by Effie Trinket from “The Hunger Games” and Truman Burbank from “The Truman Show.”

Mina

A flower lover, Mina is forced to become a breeder after falling in love with Soobin. Attempting to escape, she is captured but rescued by the rebels. Strong and strategic, Mina has an intense personality and falls in love with all the protagonists, establishing a special connection with Soobin. loosely inspired by Julia from “1984”.

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elle speaks: hey guys 👋🏻 so here are the profiles of my upcoming series. i tried to make it as much spoiler-free as possible, but it's stronger than me 😩 notice that I draw inspiration from some characters of famous dystopic and post-apocalyptic books, but it's most for the personality. chapter 1 is almost over and i'll post it asap (meaning: when i get home from work feeling like a human being and not a melted ice cream — summer here is no joke, i'm telling ya).

[if you wanna be tagged, let me know]

[rosetintedduelist]

Siegfried and the Peacock Revolution

A character fashion analysis as requested by @rosalind-hawkins!

It's easy to look at a character like Siegfried (or even Pegasus) and assume that they're inspired by the Victorian Era, what with the presence of frills and jabots. And this is partially true, but as is often the case, the whole truth is more complex.

Let's set the scene: It's 1966 in London. For the last 30 years, the clothes have been somber, conservative. The first generation after World War II has reached adulthood and the young men of the 60s find themselves in a time of great wealth and a desire for freedom of expression. As the battle for civil rights and gay rights plays out in Europe and North America, another revolution is growing in the fashion world: The Peacock Revolution.

The Peacock Revolution was a reactionary fashion movement amongst young men in the West. Where their fathers had worked in factories and/or gone to war, these men had no desire for the drab suits of their fathers' era. They began to explore color, every color, bold patterns, and textures like lace and velvet. This was a genderbending and androgynous divergence from the previous cisheterocentric norms of the 50s, in line with Free Love movement and the popularity of communes.

This movement was pioneered by Mr. Fish, inventor of the bold kipper tie, and challenger of all things cisnormative. He would later go on to clothe some of the greatest superstars of that era. We'll get to that later.

So how does all this relate to Yugioh?

Let's take a look at Siegfried:

Things of note: Jabot (not a cravat, mind you), a one-button aubergine suit, broad shoulders, defined waist, and poet sleeves.

The jabot is certainly a focal point here, and so it's easy to see why one would assume he is inspired by Victorian era fashions. However, the one button suit firmly places him in the 20th century fashion-wise. We really don't see one-button suits until the 1930s, becoming prominent in- you guessed it- the 1960s.

It's worth noting the cinched waist would be a gender defying element of his design if he were truly Victorian inspired. While the mid 1800s saw men's suits be slightly cinched, by the end of the century, the men's silhouettes have firmly boxed up.

Oh hi there 1849. Are you... you know... [wrist goes limp]

You can also see from the images above, color wasn't particularly common in Victorian male formalwear.

Members of the Peacock Revolution loved the Victorian Era. (The Victorian always come back into vogue, y'know.) They took the frills and design elements of the stuffy Victorians and mixed them with the more androgynous form, patterning, and fabrics of the era.

Thus, it is more likely Siegfried's outfit (and by extension Pegaus's) is not inspired by the Victorian era, which it only barely partakes of, but instead, the 1960's Peacock Revolution, which it embraces whole-heartedly.

But who wore this style? Which young men? Well, you know a lot of them actually. Remember when I said Mr. Fish clothed a lot of stars? While there were plenty of everyday people wearing this style, it was popularized by celebs of the time:

Pink Floyd:

Jimi Hendirx:

David Bowie (wearing Mr. Fish!):

Mick Jagger (also in Mr. Fish!):

This is also the style characters like Austin Powers and Mad Mod from Teen Titans are emulating. But why? Why does Siegfried wear this style? IDK man, I didn't write the guy. But I do love him, so I'll take a wild guess:

Rebellion.

Yes, Siegfried is trying to appease his family and bring his company success. Yes, he's willing to manipulate his brother for that cause. Yes, he conforms to the demands of profit and capitalism. But I think at his core, he wants a different life. And clothes are a way to rebel. But he can't get away with anything crazy like the punks, hippies, and goths, all styles of the 20th century. He needs to be proper, upstanding like Pegasus. What better than the fashion inspired by prim and proper Victorians, just with a little genderfuck spin?

Members of the Peacock Revolution were not maligned in their time, or at any point really. Yes, they were pushing the boundaries of fashion and gender, but rather that than be some brute or ruffian. It was a acceptable revolution. It didn't need to be stifled through nefarious means. It simply died out as fashion shifts, as it always does.

And so Siegfried finds comfort in this quiet rebellion, this proper revolution. It's just contrary enough. Not too much, not too little. An opulent hint that he's not living a life he would have chosen for himself. As someone living the life of his parent's dreams, this is the only form of freedom he can muster. Or at least, that's my take!

Anyways. The knowledge that stylistically Siegfried Von Schroeder is closer to Jimi Hendrix and Mick Jagger than he is Queen Victoria will forever haunt me, and now it gets to haunt you too! Go forth and draw this peacocking flamingo man in some 1960s revolutionary fashion!

[majestick-posts-op]

Recentely there has been a wide speculation on weather or not one of the Strawhats will die at the end of the final saga. Persona I'm a team Shanks-will-die-and-Oda-won't-emotionally-damage-us-further but many people believe that either Usopp or a member of the monster trio will die.

So here I bring my own spin to the theory: no one dies, but Zoro, Sanji, Luffy and Usopp lose/sacrifice their limbs in some way.

Firstly: Zoro loses his other eye, and becomes fully blind.

This could have been foreshadowed by his having already lost one eye, and also his awful sense at direction because he can't see his way. But story wise, if he lost it before duellying Mihawk he will be the strongest swordsman in the world as a disabled person. This ties in with the themes of "strengh isn't defied by your body but your skill" in his backstory about Kuina. Plus the only other blind character in One Piece is a swordsman.

Next, Sanji loses his leg by carbonising it.

Sanji has many paralles with his father Zeff, from similar epithets, morals, same dreams and skills. So since Zeff livedup to his name as "redleg" by cutting off his leg in a gruesome and bloody manner, "blackleg" Sanji will burn his. He already sets his leg on fire in cannon with his powers, so maybe this will also get rid of his Germa modifications and allow him to live as a human.

Most likely, Luffy loses one or both of his arms.

This is something I have seen a few people discuss. Of course, it would parallel Shanks. But you also have Luffy in Impel Down saying he doesn't care about losing both of his arms if it means saving who he loves and trying to rip them off in Whole Cake Island to save Sanji. Luffy does have a pretty long history of selfharm related sacrifice, this would line up with his character.

And finally, Usopp loses all fpur limbs and gets robotic enanchments.

This is definetly the most brutal one, but hear me out: Usopp honestly has so, so many parallels with Franky. From both being inventors, to being addandoned by a biological parent, having been outcasts as kids, having a pet frog, and similar themes of selfloathing/selfblaming. Post timeskip Franky is also a quadruple amputee. So Usopp may eventualy prove himself as a brave warrior of the sea by committing an action that will leave his body severely damaged, forcing him to amputate his limbs. Of course, Franky will make sure to give him the new body he deserves which will allow him to go on with his life.

[starg0ld]

Fragmenta Vitae (II)

art creds: drosaxx on twt

Albedo x Lumine

❝ After albedo inevitably loses control, he pays the highest price by killing the person dearest to him. He will try to make amends by making use of his darkest alchemical knowledge. ❞

Cw: death, murder, mourning, obsession, blood, dead body, angst

n/a: It was REALLY hard to envision a possible Neo-Khaenri’ah--- I had to ask for help from CHATgpt chat because worldbuilding and I don’t get along very well-- However, it's still fun to imagine an alternative version of future Teyvat :D. Of course, I want to clarify once again that this story takes place in an AU set after the end of the game canon story. The war ended with Lumine’s death, who had to face Albedo as her final challenge, concluding with her death (poor Aether, he's now sad and alone-) I hope this point is clear enough (feedbacks are much appreciated), anyway, many more characters and lore have to appear yet. BTW!!! Rhinedottir is such an interesting character, I can't wait for her to officially appear in game. I need more Khaenri’ah and its people's lore. I also like to imagine Albedo and Lumine like this in my story: (also see below)

word count: 4473

Teyvat was progressively evolving. After the last great war, nations were getting back on their feet, mainly through mankind aid. Years passed quickly, evolution just as rapid through the succession of generations. The conflict against the Heavenly Principles and the Abyss Order ended in glory, imprinted as one of the most tragic and grandiose events in history, though, of course within a cost; many creatures fell, whole systems were destroyed. Celestia, the ever present force that loomed over Teyvat for centuries, was no longer a forced control in the skies. The shackles imposed by the gods had been broken, and in their absence, humanity seized control of its own destiny. Finally, with the divine rule gone, the world no longer belonged to the heaven's thrones, but to those who roamed the earth.

Khaenri’ah, once the cursed nation led by no deity, raised again, reborn from its own ashes it shone more beautifully and majestically than ever. Now, Neo-Khaenri’ah flourished in this new era, becoming a beacon of innovation, a testament to what a civilization could achieve when unburdened by the interference of higher powers.

Towering spires of brass and steel, adorned with intricate engravings of their lost history. All around were scattered floating platforms powered by etheric energy, defying gravity through advanced machinery, gears and cogs embedded into buildings, constantly turning like the beating heart of the city. Stained glass windows gracefully depicted past legends, illuminated by phosphorescent gas lamps. Walking through its streets seemed to cross another reality entirely. The technological industry was the most advanced in Teyvat, just as it used to be; a blend of alchemical engineering and steam powered innovation, automaton workers with intricate filigree plating, operating complex machinery. Airships and mechanical chariots could be spotted gliding through the sky, their engines humming with a mix of steam and arcane energy. Institutions were instituted “Aetheric Conduits”: massive pipelines running through the city, distributing power to homes, factories, and vehicles, along the “Luminary Core”, a vast central generator, pulsing like a mechanical heart, the key to Neo-Khaenri’ah’s survival.

Khaenri’ah became a meritocratic society, led by the monarchy and its council, established by exponents who rose trough their intellect. Guilds of artificers, inventors, and scholars, each competing to push the boundaries of technology. There was a certain reverence for lost knowledge, with grand libraries housing texts preserved from even before the cataclysm. Progress swept across the land, driven by the minds of those who had long been denied the chance to create freely.

Among them was the Kreideprinz Albedo.

With Celestia’s threats no longer hanging over his head, the former alchemist could finally push the limits of his knowledge without restraint, although aware that every mystical force must have boundaries. The Art of Khemia, once a forbidden and dangerous craft, was now his to explore without fear, along with several other alchemists and scientists who enjoyed playing with reality’s restrictions. Albedo could have become a feared and respectable figure in his new life, after all, he had full faculties on that matter, but the latter rather opted to open a humble alchemical emporium in the new nation of Khaenri'ah. Yet, despite the infinite possibilities before him, his focus remained singular: Lumine.

The mysterious outlander returned to him, yet not entirely. Lumine’s soul was there, but incomplete. Her body was perfect, yet empty of the memories that made her who she once was. Sometimes, looking at her, Albedo saw the woman he madly loved years before, other times, he saw a stranger who was still learning about the world all around them. And still, he fully dedicated himself to her. Under his wing and guidance, Lumine had to learn everything from the beginning: language, culture, even the simplest of concepts, everything was foreign to her. The young girl observed the world with the wide eyed wonder of a child, yet there was something different about her. She was not like an ordinary newborn soul, she learned quickly, her mind grasping ideas at a speed that defied nature, absorbing knowledge as if it had always been within her, merely waiting to be unlocked. Still, the process was slow, but Albedo was patient. He became Lumine’s guide, her mentor, her anchor in a world that should have somehow been familiar but was now entirely unknown. He spoke to her with gentle tones, enunciating words with care, repeating phrases until they took root in her mind. Then, one day, she spoke her first word. It was clumsy, a fusion of syllables that didn’t quite fit together; a muddled attempt at “Master” and “Albedo.” The pronunciation was incorrect, but the intent was clear. Albedo froze, for a moment, he simply stared, as if doubting his own hearing. Then, slowly, his expression softened, his lips parting in a quiet exhale of astonishment. A small, genuine smile ghosted across his face.

“You’re learning.” The blonde man murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Encouraged from his tender expression, Lumine repeated his name again, slowly, carefully, guiding her tongue toward the correct sounds. Her attempts were hesitant at first, imperfect, but persistent. Every time she spoke, Albedo listened intently, his eyes filled with quiet admiration. It became a game between them, a ritual of sorts where Lumine would try, and Albedo would correct, and no matter how garbled the result, he never expressed frustration. There was no impatience in that kind man, only quiet encouragement and the deep, unspoken warmth of someone who was simply grateful to hear her voice at all. With time, Lumine’s vocabulary expanded. Simple words became full sentences, fragmented thoughts became coherent ideas, and through it all, Albedo remained at her side, watching as his most successful creation rebuilt herself from the pieces of a past she could not recall.

Yet sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, flickers of that lost life would surface. Memories would come in brief, fleeting bursts, too fast to grasp, too distant to understand. They struck without warning, leaving Lumine disoriented, shaken. And when they did, Albedo was always there, steady, unmovable. He would not let the love of his life fall again, he would be whatever she needed him to be; a teacher, a guardian, a friend. And no matter how long it took, he would not stop until she would've reclaimed what was hers.

Lumine was an endless source of curiosity. Everything fascinated her, every strange instrument in Albedo’s lab, every chemical reaction, the shimmering liquids in glass vials, the intricate symbols etched into his research notes, every scrap of knowledge she could pry from his mind. Even the simple act of speaking was still new to her, and though her words sometimes tumbled out in a peculiar, mismatched way, that young woman was relentless in her questioning.

"Why is this bubbling?"

"What happens if I mix these?"

"Why do you look like that when you think?"

It never ended.

At first, Albedo found her enthusiasm endearing, even oddly amusing, answering her with the patience of a seasoned teacher. But it didn’t take long for him to realize that Lumine’s curiosity was boundless, not just in the things she wished to learn, but in the attention she demanded. When he needed to focus on his experiments, to carefully measure reagents or record delicate results, Lumine was still there, demanding his care. And when she didn’t get it?

That woman hated being ignored. If Albedo ever dared to turn his focus elsewhere, she would make sure to drag it back to her, one way or another. It started with insistent tugging at his sleeve, then persistent questioning, her voice growing louder and more urgent the longer he failed to respond. And when those didn’t work? Then came the destruction; glass shattered, papers scattered, carefully calibrated instruments knocked askew, ink splattered across his carefully recorded notes. Delicate equipment, pieces he had spent weeks, if not months refining suddenly found itself striked to the ground in the wake of her frustration. If he turned his back for too long, Lumine would throw a tantrum, huffing and stomping as if she could will his focus back onto her. And when tantrums alone didn’t work, the mess she brought escalated, spilling liquids, toppling beakers, sometimes even outright grabbing his work and flinging it aside. If denied attention, Lumine didn’t simply sul; she retaliated.

The first few times, Albedo tried to reprimand her, using a pondered authority. His voice had taken on that careful, measured sternness he used when scolding Klee for her reckless explosions, whenever her enthusiasm turned reckless when his younger sister was younger.

"Lumine, you can’t break things just because you want my attention."

But the golden haired woman only glared up at him, her chestnut eyes gleaming with defiance. Then, the next time the alchemist ignored her for too long, she broke something more valuable, as if testing whether his rules truly applied to her or not. That discipline only fueled the rebellion. If he told her not to do something, Lumine would do it twice as much, staring at him defiantly as if daring him to stop her. Eventually, Albedo had to accept a painful truth: Lumine would never change. It became clear, after a handful of ruined experiments, that reprimanding her was a fruitless endeavor. No amount of logical explanation, no carefully worded reasoning about the importance of patience, would ever deter her. No explanation of "This experiment is important, please be patient." would ever stop her. She was a force of nature, one that he simply had to work around. Lumine was not one to wait. She was not one to be ignored. The lab, once an orderly sanctuary of precision, slowly became something else. A disaster zone. Cabinets missing their doors, papers littering the floor, bits of broken glass swept hastily into corners, stacks of notes displaced, fragile instruments set aside where they were less likely to be destroyed, shelves rearranged to keep the most breakable items out of reach. Albedo could only sigh as he salvaged what he could, shaking his head at the wreckage left in her wake.

The wise alchemist had to resort to the same ploy he used with Klee many years earlier: hanging a sign on the door of the workshop while he was working, so Lumine could understand that there was a reason if the door was locked. At first she threw tantrums, screaming like a child, then her tactic became destroying the rest of the house. Albedo, worried that Lumine could even get to the point of hurting herself if left unsupervised for too long, came up with the idea of leaving her some “homework”, something to study and with keeping herself busy while he had to work. Against all his expectations, Lumine was quite intrigued by the topics he assigned her. She tried her best to meet her master's expectations, completing all the work Albedo assigned her. Using this strategy, Lumine learned a lot of valuable information with such incredible speed in a brief amount of time.

Despite all the mess, despite the frustration, there was something almost… endearing about it. Albedo always found himself making allowances for that girl. Despite all her chaos, Lumine listened. Every answer the Kreideprinz gave, every patient explanation about why a chemical changed color, why certain metals conducted energy, why the stars burned in the sky or the mysteries of the constellations, she absorbed it all, like a sponge drinking in water. As much as she craved his attention, Lumine also craved knowledge. Albedo found himself, more often than not, pausing his work to explain things, answering her endless stream of "why's" and "how's," knowing full well that in the moment he'd have stopped, something else would end up broken. Lumine was exhausting,unpredictable, at times infuriating, she was also impossible to ignore. But for all the mess she caused, she always listened.

Despite that funny, somehow warm routine, Albedo never allowed himself peace. His mind, ever restless, was consumed by a singular obsession: restoring Lumine’s memories. He spent countless hours in his lab, eyes scanning over research notes, fingers stained with ink as he scribbled theories and calculations. Every failed attempt only spurred him to push harder, to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Art of Khemia, as if somewhere within its forbidden knowledge lay the key to bringing Lumine back in full to him. His work became his existence, his thoughts endlessly circling the same question: Where had he gone wrong? Lumine was alive, her body was whole, her soul tethered to this world, but she was not the same. The spark that once defined her was dimmed, flickering in and out of reach. Her gaze, though filled with curiosity, lacked recognition. And Albedo, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, could not accept it. It was like she wasn't the same person he fell in love with decades ago, but every time he chased away this thought.

The experiments were meticulous, precise, driven by an urgency he could not shake. Potions, rituals, alchemical transmutations, each test carried out with the utmost care, each failure met with gritted teeth and renewed determination. At first, Albedo was careful to shield Lumine from the weight of his desperation. He spoke to her in soft reassurances, masking his exhaustion behind a calm demeanor. But no amount of control could hide the dark circles beneath his teal eyes, the rigid set of his jaw whenever an experiment yielded nothing but silence. Lumine watched him with quiet confusion, sensing the depth of his frustration but not fully understanding it. She would tilt her head, studying him as her master paced the lab, muttering theories under his breath. Occasionally, she would reach out, fingers brushing against his sleeve in a tentative attempt to pull him from his thoughts.

"Why do you look so sad?" She once asked, her voice uncertain, as if she was struggling to grasp the meaning of the question herself.

Albedo had frozen at her words, staring at her as if she had struck him. Then, with a forced smile, he merely shook his head and returned to his work.

It wasn’t just her memories that were missing. The realization crept in slowly, dread settling deep within Albedo’s bones. Lumine’s soul itself was fractured, as if some vital pieces had been left behind, lost in the void between life and death. He had brought her back, but not completely. She was like a mirror that had been shattered and imperfectly pieced together, some fragments forever gone. The weight of it was crushing. His mind refused to accept the possibility that this was irreversible. There had to be a way. There had to be something he hadn’t considered yet. He worked harder, slept less, ate only when his body became exhausted. Even when his hands trembled from exhaustion, even when the ink on his pages blurred from tired eyes, he continued.

But for all his efforts, Lumine remained the same. Despite it all, she sought him out. Even without her memories, without the experiences that had once shaped her, Lumine was drawn to him. When Albedo disappeared into his work for too long, she would come find him. She would sit in the lab, watching him with patient, quiet fascination, or tug at his sleeve when he had gone too long without acknowledging her presence. She did not know why she trusted that man, only that she did, he was all she ever had, her only family. Perhaps, on some level, something in her remembered. Or perhaps it was simply that Albedo, for all his silence and brooding intensity, was a constant, a presence that felt safe. She did not understand the grief in his eyes when he looked at her like that, she did not understand the weight that lonely alchemist carried in his heart. But she stayed by his side nonetheless.

When Rhinedottir, Albedo's mother and creator, discovered what her former apprentice had done, her reaction was anything but simple.

The cryptic alchemist returned to the nation she had lived in for many centuries ago, after the war against the gods ended and Khaenri’ah got as stable as before. Although the relationship between her and Albedo, “her most successful son”, has always been complicated, the two had learned to coexist almost peacefully together. Both were highly respected alchemists in their homeland, each working on their own projects, though often combining their miraculous faculties. Rhinedottir saw Albedo as a man now, he learned a great deal from her teachings and became an alchemist in her own wake. Despite Rhinedottir being as cold as ever, she was more than satisfied with how far her best creation had come. Albedo, who had always longed to be reunited with her, learned to acknowledge his master's mistakes, without ignoring that this woman was the closest family he could ever have. The homunculus was silently grateful for his creator eventually coming back, and while her attitude was as icy as ever, something changed. Rhinedottir knew how to show that she was still a mother, even if in her own way.

Despite being aware of the witch's vast knowledge, Albedo had always kept his greatest plan a secret from her, even though she herself could have been able to help him with her wealthy skills. But he couldn't imagine her fury when she’d found out, after all, there was a part of him that still feared her reaction and judgment, however inevitable.

But now the woman stood just before him, in the middle of his lab. Eyes narrowed, her presence as imposing as ever. The silence between them stretched thick with tension. When Rhinedottir finally spoke, her voice was laced with both disapproval and something more, something contemplative. "You used the Art of Khemia… to create life. Without my knowledge. Without my guidance." Shock and fury battled for dominance in her expression, yet beneath the surface, a more subtle emotion flickered, one that Albedo recognized all too well. A hint of pride, the same rare light that rarely manifested back in the days when he was still an apprentice seeking alchemy mentorship, when he was still learning about the world in the early years of his long existence. Rhinedottir's words were measured, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge to them. The Kreideprinz had expected her anger, and he was not disappointed. The older alchemist continued, stepping forward, her gaze scrutinizing her child like one of her unfinished experiments, a feeling that Albedo already knew too well. "Do you even understand what you’ve done? Do you understand the consequences you may have unleashed?"

Albedo, ever composed, stood his ground. He did not flinch under her scrutiny, though he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. Of course he had already anticipated this reaction. "I understand perfectly," The man replied evenly, though a part of him wondered if he truly did. "I took every precaution-"

"Precaution?" Rhinedottir’s scoff was bitter. "You dare speak of precautions when you tamper with the fundamental laws of existence? I taught you to be cautious, to understand the seriousness of the Art of Khemia, and yet you…" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, her voice no less serious. She was furious. Yes, Albedo knew she would be, but there was something else in her gaze. Beneath the indignation, beneath the rebuke, was a glimmer of something almost… admiring. "You wielded it with reckless abandon. You ignored the risks. You defied discipline, and for what? Love? Grief?"

Albedo’s hands clenched at his sides. He had nothing to say to that. No words that would make her understand. But she already did. Rhinedottir studied her perfect creation for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curled, not quite into a smile, but into something close.

"Impressive…" The woman murmured, almost to herself, while watching the other homunculi in the room next Albdo’s lab, from the crack in the door she could glimpse Lumine dancing with a broom, humming a playful tune to herself as she was immersed in her little world. That sentence sent a shiver through Albedo. It was not a compliment, not exactly. It was an acknowledgment, a grudging respect for the audacity of what he had done, for the skill it required. But the moment passed, and her expression hardened once more.

"Listen to me, Albedo." Rhinedottir’s tone was firm, brooking no argument. "You will take responsibility for what you have created. This is not an experiment you can discard when it becomes inconvenient." Sounded almost hilarious, said by her, the same woman who had abandoned him, as well as her other “failed” experiments. But albedo did not dare to protest about it.

The younger alchemist bristled at her implication. "I never intended-"

"Ensure that Lumine is safe." Rhinedottir interrupted. "That she is stable, that she does not become… something beyond your control." The implications of those words were clear, after all, they both were homunculi. It was a brilliant paradox; an artificial being created by another artificial being, a synthetic life generated by another synthetic one. A snake biting its own tail.

Albedo met her gaze, his resolve unwavering. "I will."

A beat of silence passed between mother and son, heavy with unspoken words, but clear as if they had been shouted. Then, with a final glance at him, in one last, lingering moment of scrutiny, Rhinedottir turned away.

"See that you do." She warned, and just like that, the woman made it clear that their conversation was over. Albedo lowered his head slightly, not daring to twist the finger in the wound any further.

Before leaving the alchemist's emporium, Rhine stood in front of Lumine, deeply staring into her golden eyes as the girl returned the glare with puzzled look, only able to produce a confused sound back. For a moment, albeit very brief, Rhinedottir's eyes softened before lending a hand on Lumine’s shoulder. Perhaps for a moment the alchemist Gold remembered something, although distant. Then she turned away, enveloped in her icy aura as ever as the sound of her heels followed her out of the door.

Albedo kept standing there for a little more after his master had left, his thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, defiance, and something else. He couldn't help but think about that look, somehow... proud? He had never seen her like that in his entire life. Something that felt an awful lot like vindication.

Once they were both alone Lumine approached her teacher with uneven steps, her voice carrying a peculiar lilt as she spoke. "AU-be-do!" The girl enunciated in a funny, exaggerated way. "Who was that odd person who just passed by?"

Albedo turned toward her, an amused yet still shaken expression crossing his face. He recognized that she was referring to Rhinedottir, but for a brief moment he hesitated. How could he explain her in a way that Lumine would understand? The alchemist studied her face, innocent yet inquisitive, her wide eyes filled with curiosity rather than wariness. With a small sigh, he finally answered. "That woman… is someone very important to me. Her name is Rhinedottir, and she's the one who created me."

Lumine blinked, tilting her head as she processed his words. "Important…" She hummed back, repeating the word as if tasting it on her tongue, though the sentence remained incomplete in her mind.

Albedo nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips at her attempt to grasp the concept. "Yes, important." He clarified gently. "She's my creator, and she taught me many things." For a moment, Albedo considered how much he should tell her. Lumine was technically still mentally young, how much of his past, of Rhinedottir’s role, could she truly comprehend?

Lumine’s expression remained thoughtful as she repeated his words, albeit with a furrowed brow. "She created you…" Her small fingers fiddled with the hem of her skirt before looking up again. "Then… Why was she angry?"

There it was. The question Albedo had been dreading. She was referring to Rhinedottir’s earlier fury, the way her sharp words had lashed at him like a whip, it was obvious that from the other room Lumine had heard something, after all, she wasn’t any fool. The blonde man let out a slow breath, trying to choose his words carefully. "It’s… complicated." His voice waw measured. "My master was angry because she was worried about me. She didn’t want me to do certain things because they could be dangerous…"

Lumine’s frown deepened, confusion flickering across her features. Albedo hesitated before bringing himself closer to her. "She’s just… protective, I suppose. The way a mother would be angry if her child did something reckless."

For a few moments, the younger homunculi remained silent, processing his words, when she spoke her voice was serious. "And what did you do wrong? Do I have to be angry too?"

Albedo let out a small laugh at her question, shaking his head. There was something both endearing and worrisome about her directness. His hand reached out, fingers ruffling through her hair in a familiar, affectionate gesture. Lumine, for once, didn’t push him away. "No, no, you don’t have to be angry… " He reassured her, his tone gentle. "I did something I shouldn’t have, and that’s why she was upset. But you haven’t done anything wrong, my dear. Don’t worry, alright?" Albedo's voice was softer now. "Just focus on learning and growing."

Lumine nodded solemnly, as if absorbing his words like a sacred promise. Then, with a shift in mood, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Would you give me a hand with that book you gave me to read?"

Albedo’s smile widened at the request. It pleased him to see her so eager to learn. "Of course, my dear." The Kreideprinz replied, settling beside her. "I’d be glad to help. What part are you having trouble with?"

The blonde girl wasted no time in opening the book, pointing to a paragraph that had given her trouble. As Albedo guided her through the sentences, correcting her pronunciation and explaining the meanings of unfamiliar words, a sense of normalcy returned, if only briefly. He forced himself to focus on the present, to be patient as Lumine stumbled through her reading. But beneath his calm exterior, his thoughts remained tangled. The turmoil in his heart had not disappeared. Even as he sat beside his most sacred treasure, helping that innocent girl navigate the words on the page, his mind swirled with the weight of Rhinedottir’s anger, the burden of his own decisions, and the uncertainty that loomed ahead. The older alchemist's fingers tensed slightly over the edge of the book. He had told Lumine not to worry, but he knew, deep down, that things would not remain this peaceful forever.

If only Lumine could have known.

couldn't find the artist, please if you know tell me!

[stormyoceans]

thamepo did his best to make me scream throughout ep9 FUCKING PUENTALAY IS HERE

LISTEN. i may not be going as insane over thamepo as i expected because apparently if my heart were a dog it would be a shaking chihuahua with behavioral issues that defies all possible training, HOWEVER!!!!!!!!!!!! THE WRITERS HAD TO SERVE PEAK LOVE AND DOMESTICITY FOR EPISODE 9 AND THEY CLEARLY TOOK INSPIRATION FROM THE INVENTORS OF ROMANCE THEMSELVES LIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND IM PRETTY SURE I FORGOT SOME BUT THESE MOMENTS WERE THE MOST GLARINGLY OBVIOUS ONES

like the almost kiss while watching a movie and the back hug while cooking are such puentalay trademarks that im pretty sure the writers just went to p'x (which is one of the producers for thamepo BTW) to ask him for tips and p'x was like well. not to toot my own horn but there is this show..........

WHAT IM SAYING IS. THE WRITERS DID THEIR HOMEWORKS AND IT SHOWS

[agentnico]

Top 10 Best Movies of 2024

Happy New Year everyone! Thank you to the two or three of my blog readers or the random Tumblr users who come across one of my reviews - always appreciate you spending your time reading my gibberish. 2024 - what a disappointing year for cinema. Naturally a primary cause for this was the SAG-AFTRA artist strike in 2023 that has had a ripple effect, however another reason would be that Hollywood is more-than-ever running out of ideas. It’s not that there were particularly bad movies, but more so okay films that left one underwhelmed. From big budget fare such as Gladiator 2, Moana 2, Deadpool & Wolverine, Argylle, The Lord of the Rings: War of the Rohirrim offering limited but forgettable entertainment, and even the indie market struggling, as I found myself hardly captivated by the likes of Longlegs, Drive-Away Dolls, The Vourdalak, MaXXXine and The Return, to name a few. It’s been a very so-so year. Nevertheless there’s always some movies that manage to offer that element of escapism we all seek from the theatrical journey, so here are my picks for my favourite films of 2024 (in my humblest of opinions of course)…

[DISCLAIMER: I have not yet seen A Complete Unknown and The Brutalist, so those will not be considered on this list, though I am very much looking forward to seeing both, especially The Brutalist]

HONOURABLE MENTIONS: Juror #2; The Last Stop in Yuma County; Challengers; The Beast; A Quiet Place: Day One; Late Night with the Devil

10 - WALLACE & GROMIT: VENGEANCE MOST FOWL - “He’s back! Again!” So I have been absolutely sleeping on these Wallace & Gromit joints. Me and my wife were in stitches after watching this new Aardman stop motion with its irreverent humour and wacky hijinks. Wallace is a self-absorbed prick, Feathers McGraw is one of the best silent villains in cinematic history and Gromit is bae. After seeing it we have since been on an endless binge of all the Wallace & Gromit shorts and films on BBC and have fallen in love with this cheese-loving mongrel of an inventor and his loyal friendly doggo. Yet Vengeance Most Fowl I still believe is maybe their best outing yet, as it takes everything that is great about this franchise and delivers it in one entertaining hilarious package. Also I can only imagine how much time it takes up for Aardman to do all the stop motion animation, with it taking weeks to make maybe only 30 seconds of footage. It’s impressive, and the result is one of the most heartwarming comedic gold features of 2024. Oh, and those Peter Kay one-liners are on point!

9 - FLOW - The Robot Dreams of 2024. A wonderful, beautiful and immersive experience- a true vibe of a movie. Still questioning how these animals know how to drive a boat, but I’m happy to suspend my sense of disbelief and assume these creatures went to boat school in favour of admitting that this is my favourite animated feature of this year. Great for cat lovers too!

8 - WICKED - Look, I’m as stumped as anyone about the fact that Wicked is on my Top 10 list. I’m trying to let that sink in…. Wicked in my Top 10… Wicked in my Top 10… Ugghh it grinds my gears it does!! Nevertheless, it’s a perfect adaptation of the musical stage production with catchy songs and superstar turns from Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. My wife has also been non-stop singing “woooooo” from Defying Gravity ever since, so she evidently approves too. Now leave me be, I simply must be loathing… unadulterated loathing… For your face, your voice, your clothing… Let's just say, I loathe it all!!

7 - HERETIC - I shall never listen to “All the Air That I Breathe” by The Hollies the same again. Hugh Grant delivers the most entertaining and uneasy religious studies lecture in history, by comparing the Bible and Quran to Monopoly - baller ass move, and a most entertaining little thriller.

6 - CONCLAVE - In my eyes Conclave is a stunning piece of work. It manages to take what one would assume as such a simple premise, yet manages to entangle it with so many threads of twists and turns, as such turning a political and religious drama into a true mystery thriller, with Fiennes character acting as a detective, unravelling the dirty secrets of all the Pope candidates. Partner that with the great acting, sublime cinematography and a slow but engaging pace with a script filled with wit and realism, and we have ourselves one hell of a motion picture! Oh, and less one forget about the most diabolical vape hit ever!

5 - THE SUBSTANCE - Conclave may feature the most diabolical vape hit of the year, however The Substance takes the win for the most obnoxious chewing of shrimp ever put to screen! The Substance is the type of movie that is made to shock and unsettle an audience. There’s a lot of disturbing imagery, with blood and gore and body horror, very reminiscent of horror films of David Cronenberg like The Fly and Naked Lunch. The final 30 minutes especially are so fun to watch with a crowd of people in a packed theatre, as it’s the kind of visceral and grotesque experience that is at the same time disgusting, horrible yet funny. Let’s not even sugarcoat it - the final 30 minutes are so f-ed up and it was a thrill to experience that with an audience, hearing the gasps and squirms from fellow moviegoers. Definitely up there as one of my favourite cinema trips.

4 - THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO - Some stories a worth retelling. The sets are great and really invoke the post-Napoleon era of France; the costumes are gorgeous; the music score is grandiose and epic, really engrossing you in this decade spanning saga of revenge; the classic Alexandre Dumas story is reinterpreted so well with the themes and the emotion, and the acting across the board is superb.  Truly grandiose in scale, and Pierre Niney is effortlessly cool as the titular count, playing him off as a, dare I say, French Batman. So cool, so awesome, so very French.

3 - HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS - Hundreds of Beavers is one of the most creative, inventive and entertaining comedies of the last decade, and I had a smile on my face from start to finish. From the punchy editing, funny music cues, well-timed cutaway gags, goofy costumes or the endlessly creative deaths, this thing has so much unhinged energy it’s unreal. This slapstick comedy offers the perfect rebuttal to “they don’t make them like they used to.” 

2 - FURIOSA - It was upon my second viewing, with an avid pairing of a glass or two of gin mind you, that I really accepted how spectacular this movie is. It’s a fricking sin that Chris Hemsworth is not getting any awards recognition for his turn as the diabolical Dementus - he bloody OWNS this role! Anya Taylor-Joy comes late in the game but does rule as a revenge stricken Furiosa, but I’d actually say that Alyla Browne deserves more praise as the young Furiosa, giving one of the most raw and bare bones child-actor performances of the last decade! The scene where her mother gets crucified…. this kid felt it and WE felt it! CGI is tacky at times; but to counteract that there are some ace action scenes…. dudes parachuting off motorbikes whilst blazing in fire is so METAL! I usually hate prequels as I don’t see the point in them, but this is that one rare exception where it truly allows one to unravel more of The Wasteland through the lense of a fantastical and engaging narrative. Sad to think this may be the last Mad Max flick due to the box office failure. Shame -I’d happily dig another! 

1 - DUNE: PART TWO - To use The Lord of the Rings terminology, and boy am I happy to refer to the dear-to-my-heart Middle Earth whenever I have the chance, then Dune: Part Two holds the scale of The Two Towers. I may not agree with all of it, and there are still some moments I believe drag, though The Two Towers is also guilty of that - I’m looking at you Treebeard! But overall this is one hell of a cinematic experience and achievement. I heavily disliked the first movie, so going into this one I was prepped on hating it too. However Dune: Part Two is a masterclass of science fiction storytelling. No other movie in 2024 has provided me with such a visceral and invigorating feeling of cinematic experience. I was completely lost in the deserts of Arrakis, enamoured in the rise of the Lisan al Gaib. Oh, and that Hans Zimmer’s music score - electrifying!!

In conclusion, 2024 excelled in the horror genre, while the two best films are both set in the desert. Take that as you will. Anyway, onwards with 2025! If you liked this, please follow me on Letterboxd for my immediate reactions: https://boxd.it/9wQGT

[marukyubi]

Octobie Week 2: Anarchy Just a little drabble for this week '3 Pairing- Hobie x OC this week 'D (Couldn't squeeze out more. Was planning a drawing for this week but a sudden burst of desire to write has consumed me full and quick.) Brief Background - So, my oc, and her universe is in a type of dystopian world where only the people who are born rich keep getting more and more rich and powerful while the people below will never stand a chance truly, being kept in such chaos so they will never remember, get stronger, to trouble any of the "ELITES BORNS". The elites are tight-knit too, but also have tight rules that they made even their own kinds follow strictly, and very rarely that one survive from the pack if they defined the rules. My oc, Angelina, is born an Elite descendent whose family is kinda a feared outcast. Their family defies rules and even advocates the people who are not elites to defy them as well. Also support and try to make the people's lives and the society better even if it's a little bit (The irony of them being able to resist the elites this strongly is because their family has a long line of private military and the control of weapon trading businesses, which made them an essential among them. But in Angel's father's hand, to simply put how the family business stopped, "You know what. I tried the peaceful path first but you guys killed my *adopted* brother. FUCK YOU AND YOUR MOTHERS. I'm burning you all if given a chance.)

If you see Wayne family refs I took, no you don't-

Also, Angel is a Spidersona who now uses the mantle of prowler more often. She still has her organic webs, and she still uses them to have swinging dates with Hobie- but she doesn't like being associated with spiders (especially Peters) after being killed and resurrected. (Her universe Peter is not really that great. He's one of many main factors that caused her death.) She mainly uses magic weapons like her pa :D

Warning - Vulger words, mentions of violence, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of blood, brief old men yaoi, Hobie might be a bit ooc 'cause I wrote in a rush of creativity(sorry '3), it's (almost) an indulgence oc content

EAT THE RICH It's an old saying that originated from the French Revolution and is used by many people who have taken the mentality of anarchism to this day. EAT. the "RICH". When Hobie said it in front of his lover, and her dad who is a great inventor with such generational wealth but even joined him in the chant, and their family who... support him fully despite their power hold and background? (It's a weird family, he knows it when he gets in head first, but they were kind enough...?) He didn't expect her to take it as literally... "You're telling me..." asks Hobie to Angelina slowly, to take in fully of what he's about to say. "That you killed a bunch of big politicians... and fed the meats to... who!?" "My babies!" Angelina answers with a beaming smile, looking all too prideful to drench her limbs in the blood of said people. "Crowley did not mean literal babies," her brother, Felix, chimes in while working on a project near the conversation, and so does her pa(other dad :D). "We don't accept cannibalism in this household," says her pa as he tries out a new magic spell he had just found from an old grimoire. "At least not with those degraded meats." "Then what babies?" Hobie can't help but ask. "My... babies!" She replies with an emphasized voice as if he will just suddenly get the enlightenment of what she truly means. But she did catch her own mistake quick and pointed at the big aquarium behind him that has a wide variety of colorful fishes. "And hey, I'm not a meanie." She proclaims herself with a huff and a proud grin that is a bit terrifying, considering the situation. "I ground the meat to the softest pulp form I can get and mixed it with their normal diet so they won't get sick from the "treat". I also fed to the strayed animals too, no worries." It rendered Hobie a bit speechless, to hear her say all of this like it's nothing special and/or horrifying process. He's almost used to his partner's uncanny and abnormal thought processes but to see her commit one? She can always surprise him in ways he has never thought possible... "... And the reasoning?" asks Hobie quietly with a sigh. He just can't... help it, like how he fell for this bumbling idiot. And one thing he knows for sure about his love is... she would never do things out of irrational or unjustifiable excuses, no matter how the execution is. She sort of means well, almost always. It's just the acts that weird out the people who weren't around this strange family enough. And she does give him the answer immediately, with a brightening, childish smile. "Those pigs tried to legalize underage marriage in their state for the child trafficking shit they're covering for." "...Blimey, tell me you gave all in to torture those bastards." "Hell yeah! Started with making my men slice their dicks and balls off into thin strands with a bloody dull knife while keeping 'em fully awake."

[themrswallace]

If it were true, how might Wallace come to be mukherjees dad and just what happened to her mom?

Really wanted to make a Birds and the Bees joke but I wanna be mature about this...'Giggles' Given her character design as a determined young lady copper out to deliver justice swiftly and fairly, I wanna say Mukherjee was raised by a predominantly single-mother/female household, cut off from her grandparents who were maybe ashamed by the fact their daughter broke rules to spend time with a man not of her background or someone her parents didn't pick for their daughter, leading to rebellion and later drama resulting in her running away or being shipped off to aunties somewhere far off to shield the household from slander. I see it as a classic whirlwind love story for her parents. The mother just wanted her independence, and Wallace was a young inventor at the time, making his way in the world, and you know, he was nice, had no agenda, no real goals other than to be himself and indulge in his craft, and she liked that level of freedom. Maybe she wanted to be a florist or into perfume making, a career in the military or just something her parents never approved of because they wanted her to be a homemaker. Their combined desire to take the world head-on brought them together...until, being young and unable to properly support herself or not strong enough to completely remove herself from her family, she met her father's unbridled fury, when she discovered the pregnancy, that was it, he demanded she marry someone they knew other than Wallace, she said no and rather than drag this out or cause the locals a reason to gawk (Not that they would have, honestly), he sent her off, threatening to take the baby if she didn't. It was the push his daughter needed to realise her father was a tyrant, and maybe she raised Mukherjee in the caring embrace of all her aunties on her mother's side, people shoved to the back of the family due to disobedience and a lack of desire to fulfil ridiculous norms. Ironically, being surrounded by outcasts makes her able to go out and defy her family's norms.

Sometime in her late teens, Mukherjee's mother dies, only then revealing the identity of her dad through letters hidden away after years of pretending to never know, being sworn to silence by her grandfather or something else horrible and tragic, all this culminates with her sense of pride and want to save the world, do good, make her mother proud and her legacy meant something despite never being able to embrace her true potential. It's a sad character arc, but it leads Mukherjee to go get her dream job, track down Wallace, and pave her own way.

Understandably, she doesn't go to him about this for a while after returning to West Wallaby, Mukherjee sorta side eyes him from afar and compares all their similarities (You look like his clone, Sweetie, he's yah dad) before inevitably bringing him the info and beginning a new adventure as Constable and daughter of the local Inventor...I was gonna say lunatic but that felt mean XD

[saltylittlecreature]

D100 Personality stuff

This was scavenged from a project that fell through, so now I'm making it public. Enjoy

Cynical Idealist: Believes in a better world but thinks it’s unattainable.

Paranoid Overthinker: Always suspects ulterior motives in others.

Gambler: Takes risks in life and in choices, thrives on uncertainty.

Tech Savvy Luddite: Loves technology but fears its implications on humanity.

Street Poet: Expresses their thoughts through poetry, often in the form of graffiti.

Nostalgic Archivist: Holds sentimental attachments to the past and seeks to preserve history.

Ruthless Businessperson: Sees people as assets or liabilities; everything is transactional.

Compulsive Hoarder: Collects seemingly useless items, convinced they’ll be valuable someday.

Soft-Hearted Criminal: Has a soft spot for the underdog despite a life of crime.

Neon Nomad: Obsessed with the transient lifestyle, constantly seeking new experiences.

Doomsayer: Believes every anomaly is a threat to humanity's existence.

Romantic Dreamer: Seeks love and connection in a cold, cybernetic world.

Cynical Optimist: Sees the worst in people but still believes change is possible.

Techno-Shaman: Merges spirituality with technology, seeking balance in the digital age.

Eccentric Inventor: Creates bizarre gadgets that often backfire.

Devout Rebel: Fights against authority in the name of a personal belief system.

Apathetic Observer: Detached from the chaos, prefers to watch rather than engage.

Jaded Mercenary: Once had ideals; now only cares about the next paycheck.

Gadget Enthusiast: Loves collecting and modifying tech, often at the expense of practicality.

Moral Compass: Sticks to a strict code of ethics, no matter the situation.

Nostalgic Dreamer: Longs for a past that never truly existed, often romanticizing simpler times.

Curious Novice: Eager to learn but often underestimates the dangers of their work.

Futuristic Mystic: Believes in the spiritual implications of technology, often makes predictions.

Moral Guardian: Questions the ethics of containment, advocating for humane treatment.

Overly Enthusiastic: Excited about even the smallest things, often annoys others.

Wandering Mind: Gets lost in thoughts, often daydreaming about anomalies.

Social Media Influencer: Obsessed with their online presence, values popularity above all.

Bitter Survivor: Has been through hell and back; distrustful but fiercely loyal.

Corporate Sycophant: Willing to do anything for their corporate masters.

Combat Junkie: Thrives on the adrenaline of conflict, constantly seeking fights.

Philosophical Idealist: Ponders the meaning of existence amid chaos.

Doomsayer: Always believes the worst is yet to come; preps for the end.

Hopeful Idealist: Sees potential for good in everyone and everything.

Rebellious Indentured: Defies orders, trying to undermine the system from within.

Hopeless Romantic: Seeks true love in a world filled with betrayal.

Cynical Historian: Collects stories of the past to inform their worldview.

Playful Trickster: Loves pranks and light-hearted deception.

Nightmare Survivor: Scarred by their past, they now fight to protect others.

Propaganda Artist: Uses art to influence and manipulate public opinion.

Neural Explorer: Obsessed with exploring consciousness and the digital mind.

Detachment Artist: Constantly keeps people at arm's length to avoid emotional pain.

Social Engineer: Expert at manipulating social situations to their advantage.

Techno-Dystopian: Believes technology is a tool of oppression.

Glitch in the Matrix: Frequently has moments of confusion or déjà vu.

Obsessive Collector: Hoards oddities and artifacts, convinced they have hidden value.

Urban Explorer: Loves uncovering hidden places in the city, finding beauty in decay.

Mercurial Temper: Quick to anger, but equally quick to forgive.

Undercover Enthusiast: Thrives on living double lives, enjoys the thrill of secrets.

Cybernetic Junkie: Obsessed with augmentations, willing to sacrifice anything for enhancements.

Benevolent Protector: Acts as a guardian for those who cannot protect themselves.

Compulsive Debater: Argues fiercely about the ethics of containment and research.

Data Collector: Obsessed with gathering information about everyone and everything.

Caffeine Addict: Relies on stimulants to stay alert and functional in a fast-paced world.

Dreamweaver: Believes dreams hold the key to understanding reality.

Anomaly Worshiper: Views certain Anomalies as divine or otherworldly entities.

Digital Ghost: Feels disconnected from the physical world, prefers digital interactions.

Cynical Guard: Sees the worst in humanity and is constantly wary of breaches.

Mischievous Hacker: Enjoys causing chaos in systems just for the fun of it.

Obscure Philosopher: Ponders deep questions, often frustrating others with complex thoughts.

Survivor of Betrayal: Trust issues stemming from a significant betrayal in their past.

Grizzled Veteran: Experienced and tough, has seen it all and is not easily impressed.

Urban Legend: Known for larger-than-life stories and exploits, whether true or not.

Adrenaline Seeker: Constantly looks for the next thrill, even if it’s dangerous.

Dreams of Utopia: Envisions a perfect world and actively works toward it.

Disenchanted Idealist: Still holds some hope but is deeply disillusioned.

Night Owl: Thrives in the dark, often prefers to operate under the cover of night.

Paranormal Believer: Convinced that there are hidden forces at play in the world.

Tech Obsessive: Fixated on the latest technology, often to the detriment of their health.

Gentle Giant: Physically intimidating but has a kind heart.

Obsessive Researcher: Driven to understand anomalies at any cost, often neglects personal safety.

Curious Philosopher: Questions everything, often leading to existential debates.

Cynical Comedian: Uses humor as a coping mechanism for the harshness of life.

Corporate Spy: Works for the highest bidder, skilled in espionage and deceit.

Memory Seeker: Obsessed with recovering lost memories, either personal or historical.

Kinetic Learner: Prefers hands-on experiences over theoretical knowledge.

Curator of the Past: Collects artifacts and stories from before the fall of society.

Techno-Skeptic: Questions the reliance on technology and warns against its dangers.

Egotistical Genius: Believes they are the smartest person in the room and often proves it.

Undercover Enforcer: Operates in the shadows, enforcing their own brand of justice.

Cold Strategist: Plans every move carefully, often cold and calculating in their decisions.

Wanderer: Nomadic spirit, driven by a desire to explore and discover.

Nurturing Parent Figure: Acts as a caretaker for those in need, often sacrificing their own needs.

Social Chameleon: Adapts their personality to fit in with any group.

Dispassionate Observer: Watches the world unfold without feeling much attachment.

Rebellious Artisan: Uses art to challenge authority and express dissent.

Data-Driven Analyst: Relies solely on data, dismissing anything not quantifiable.

Reluctant Leader: Unwillingly thrust into leadership roles but rises to the occasion.

Eternal Optimist: Sees potential for good in every anomaly, often to a fault.

Daring Innovator: Challenges the status quo with new ideas and technologies.

Futuristic Dreamer: Envisions a radically different future, often in conflict with reality.

Ghost of the Past: Haunted by a previous Anomaly encounter, shaping their current behavior.

Gentle Manipulator: Uses subtlety to influence others without them realizing it.

Conflict Avoider: Seeks to defuse tensions and promote peace, often at personal cost.

Disgruntled Employee: Frustrated with the bureaucracy of their job, seeks change.

Perfectionist: Strives for flawlessness in research, often to the detriment of their health.

Bittersweet Realist: Acknowledges harsh truths while still holding on to a glimmer of hope.

Cynical Optimist: Holds onto hope while being deeply skeptical of others.

Machine Whisperer: Has an uncanny ability to communicate and bond with technology.

Mysterious Stranger: Keeps their past and intentions hidden, sparking curiosity in others.

Contradictory ideology: Holds conflicting beliefs and traits, making their goals harder to predict. Because the human brain is more than able to believe 2 conflicting things at once.