#expand performed sheet

[steelplatechina]

Aluminum grating bar custom made supplier and metal grating bar supplier from China

[thewitchinthecloset35]

Honouring & Offering: Apollo edition

The Sun ☀️ Drawing a sunrise ☀️ Taking a picture of the sun ☀️ Bask in the sun while thinking of him ☀️ Wear yellows and warm tones ☀️ Golden makeup

Music 🎼 Learn an instrument or sing 🎼 Decorate with sheet music 🎼 Support indie/small musicians 🎼 Dance 🎼 Create your own musical chant in honour of him

Healing & Medicine 💊 Donate to health charities 💊 Eat healthily 💊 Learn first aid 💊 Exercise 💊 Expand your knowledge on health care

The Arts 📝 Write poetry 📝 Draw or paint 📝 Create clay models 📝 Visit a theatre 📝 Visit an opera or classical music performance

Oracles, Prophecy & Truth 🎴 Learn divination 🎴 Perform readings for yourself and others 🎴 Dedicate a tarot deck to him 🎴 Meditate with him in mind 🎴 Speak truthfully

Beauty 💄 Wear jewellery 💄 Dedicate an item of clothing to him 💄 Offer rings 💄 Self-care routine 💄 Makeup

Crystals 🪨 Citrine 🪨 Amber 🪨 Sapphire 🪨 Sunstone 🪨 Carnelian

Plants 🪻 Hyacinth 🪻 Laurel 🪻 Apple-trees 🪻 Bay leaves 🪻 Cinnamon

Misc. 💛 Learn his mythos 💛 Respect his twin sister Artemis, mother Leto, lovers, and children 💛 Visit his temples 💛 Include oranges or lemons in your drinks/food 💛 Work with the number 7 and celebrate Sundays

[thecheshireprincess]

I Promise

A Pre-Borderland One-Shot Set in The Game Itself Universe (AU)

Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) - platonic relationship at this point in time

Content Warning: Mentions of an abusive father, Reader had a tumultuous childhood and is traumatized, atypical/non-nuclear family, maybe a few curse words (you should know that by now if you read my work)

A/N: I've found it a little bit more challenging than I thought I would to write chapters that have Reader's father in them (because of my own bs), so I thought I would break up the pain with a few little fluff bombs like this! As you know, several of these one-shots were already in the works anyway, so if you have an idea or a moment that you'd like to see expanded on in a one-shot like this, please let me know! This promise will come up again in the main story very soon, so it will be fun for you to have some context. Chishiya and Reader are about fourteen or fifteen in this story, making Niragi nineteen or twenty.

Find the main story here.

Monday. Arguably the worst morning of every week. Even the sun seemed to think so today, tucking itself behind the foreboding gray clouds hanging oppressive and angry in the sky over Tokyo. You aren't surprised when they crack open, allowing a slight drizzle of rain to patter against your window as you reach your arms above your head in a silent stretch.

This particular Monday was slated to be even worse than usual, that little fact being the main reason you were delaying the inevitable in getting up. Kaori, your bright-eyed and always impeccably dressed social worker, would be joining you at school today for your annual check-in. Your brother has had full legal custody of you for a year now, and though your visits with Kaori were much fewer than before, this would be an important milestone. Your performance would be everything, the magnitude of this moment weighing on you more heavily than a ton of bricks. Akin to an old rotting building, you could feel yourself crumbling from the inside out under the pressure.

You'd spent the entirety of the past weekend with Niragi breathing down your neck, drilling you with practice questions and reminding you of what behaviors the woman would be scribbling notes on in her leather bound notebook. Of what would be on the line if Kaori didn't think you were "thriving" in his care.

Your anxiety had cast a suffocating blanket of doom across your mind all night, planting sickening thoughts in your head and causing you to toss and turn for hours. Niragi had come in at least twice, straightening the blankets that had fallen to the floor as you squirmed around in the bed, desperately trying to coax you to sleep. Please sleep, Koko. You can't look tired for Kaori, what if she thinks you never get sleep here?

You groan loudly to yourself, knowing that you definitely did look tired. Your burning eyes had finally grown heavy right as the sun was peeking out across the horizon, being afforded just a brief window of slumber before Niragi was gently shaking you awake again. It had felt like you'd rested for mere seconds; you were not prepared at all for what today would bring.

It's been about half an hour since then and you still haven't moved, wanting desperately to take a page out of the sun's book for the entire day. You roll away from your window and the now steady drum of the rain hitting glass, covering your fatigued eyes with the only silky pillow that hasn't escaped the bed and hit the floor. The gloomy weather was just so convincing, today should be a day to stay in bed.

A faint knock on the door downstairs signals that you are running out of time to remain concealed between your tangled sheets; Chishiya is here. It would be only a matter of time before Niragi came up to get you, and you haven't even considered getting dressed. You can hear the man bustling through the lower level of the apartment, the clatter of dishes and occasional click of a drawer closing making it apparent that he's packing lunches and trying to clean up before everyone needs to leave. His movements are more frantic today, allowing the cabinet door to slam shut or setting a silvered utensil down just a little too aggressively - he's on edge too. Not as on edge as he's going to be when he realizes that you haven't even gotten up yet.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three separate knocks indicate that your best friend is the one standing on the other side of the door. Your time is up.

"Come in," your drowsy voice calls to him, speaking outloud for the first time today. The door creaks open slowly, Chishiya peeking around the door with an arched eyebrow, searching for you around the room. Certainly not expecting to find you still in bed. When his gaze lands on you still ensnared among the lavendar colored sheets, his eyes widen and lips part a little in shock as if silently wondering what the hell are you thinking?

You can sense the weight of his scrutinizing gaze on you, despite having your face still covered with your fluffy pillow. You let out a pathetic whine, "Stop judging me, Shiya. I really can't do this today."

Chishiya pushes the door nearly closed before walking fully into the room and whispering, "Have you lost your mind? You haven't even started getting ready?" The blonde leans casually against the edge of your desk in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest. Analyzing you, always analyzing.

"I'm sick, I can't go to school," you say in a brittle voice, making your friend's lips curl up in a smirk and blink at you in disbelief. "You really think Niragi is going to buy that today? Don't be an idiot," the boy scoffs. Chishiya is, nonetheless, entertained by your pathetic attempt at an excuse. You finally sit up, ready to throw your only remaining pillow at him to disrupt the Cheshire grin that is gracing his annoying face, but are interrupted before you can.

You panic inwardly and shoot an anxious look at your friend as you both register your brother's urgent footsteps rushing up the stairs and stopping outside your door. Chishiya's grin spreads across his face mischievously, knowing that this is about to be quite the show.

"Koko, it's time to go, are you almost ready?" When you don't answer, he pushes the already cracked door open slowly, glancing around anxiously to find you, just as Chishiya had just minutes before. He gasps - obviously stunned - when his eyes meet yours, still sitting with your blankets pooled around your limbs where he'd left you almost forty minutes ago. His jaw clenches in frustration, causing you to instinctively curl in on yourself, making your body smaller. Preparing for him to yell at you the way you know you deserve.

But Niragi has never and would never yell at you. Your brother sees your body's natural response to his irritation and his heart constricts. He refuses to make things worse for you. A deep, exhausted sigh escapes his lips, head slumping forward in concession and shoulders sagging as he comes to sit gently at your side. No matter how annoyed your brother is that you've chosen today to be difficult, he knows that yelling would do nothing but cause a rift in your carefully built relationship. There's a reason you're behaving this way, not generally an openly defiant person, but he has very little time to try to fix it. The man removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "You're still in bed. Why are you still in bed? We really don't have time for this today," he says in an even tone, peering at you expectantly.

You flop back down onto your pillow, allowing your reddened and fatigued eyes to look up at him. "Niragiiiiii," you whine exaggeratedly, "I think I'm sick. It's really bad." Your brother clicks his tongue, deciding it's easiest to play along with your game. "Really?" he questions, affectionate eyes inspecting you as he gently presses his cool hands against your face, "This is a very well-timed illness." You nod almost emphatically, giving him the most pitiful look that you can muster.

Niragi stifles a laugh, eyes shining now in amusement. "Well if it's that serious, I should probably take you to the doctor. They might even need to give you a shot," he muses, hand rubbing his chin in mock consideration. You stiffen a little, you hate needles. You look pleadingly at your brother, don't do this to me.

He sighs again. "You know on any other day I'd gladly let you play sick, but this is too important," Niragi says, brushing some hair out of your face, "You can either tell me what's really going on so I can help you, or we can talk about it later but I really need you to get up and get ready to go. Please?"

You chew the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. You know you can't tell Niragi the truth because it will just make him feel worse. That he's already under enough stress as it is. It's too much pressure. Your hovering has been stressing me out. I don't want to embarrass you. What if she decides to take me away? What if I have to go back to Dad?

No, you choose instead to keep quiet about your fears and finally push yourself up and out of bed. You pad grumpily across the room towards the bathroom, stopping along the way to yank your meticulously ironed uniform off the hanger.

You survey the dark, angry circles under your eyes in the mirror as you restart the French braid in your still partially tangled hair for what must be the third or fourth time. Your hands are shaky and simply won't move the way you need them to in your hair, and you don't have the patience right now to brush it all the way through. You grumble incoherently in exasperation, slamming your brush down on the granite countertop in front of you.

Chishiya pushes off from his observation point leaning on the doorway to approach you cautiously. "Let me help," he offers offhandedly, having learned how to braid your hair from Niragi just a few months earlier. The blonde picks up the brush that had just offended you, gliding it easily through your sleep-tangled locks.

"You're falling apart," he observes pointedly, causing you to chuckle an empty laugh in response. Of course you're falling apart. This process with Kaori is interesting, to say the least. You've never understood why the system wants to analyze every miniscule detail about your home life now that you're safe and happy with your brother, but were fine with looking the other way when you both were drowning in the depths of your father's abuse. A broken system for an even more broken family.

"The pressure is crushing me. I know I can't mess this up for Niragi; he's sacrificed so much for me and my safety. He's given everything to get us to this place," you finally substantiate your fears with words.

Chishiya continues brushing through your hair, paying cautious attention to the tangles. He hums in response as he listens, knowing there's more to it than that. You recognize the game he's playing here, distracting you by brushing your hair and convincing you to spill your guts without him ever saying a word. He was so good at that.

And so you continue, "I'm afraid they'll take me back to him if I'm not meeting their expectations . . ." you sigh shakily, "I'm not exactly healed, you know? It's not Niragi's fault I'm so broken." Chishiya grimaces at this, dexterous fingers working through a particularly difficult knot with surprising gentleness.

"I hardly think it's fair to expect yourself to be healed from a lifetime of suffering in just three years," he mumbles drily, "Be patient with yourself, it will get better in time." You nod slowly, blinking away the tears that had pooled at your waterline. You were still terrified, all the time. Every night you had nightmares that your father would show up again one day, making his cruel threats and trying to hurt you. Trying to hurt Niragi. Would you ever really be free from him?

Chishiya must have noticed how you still hesitated, curling in on yourself slightly again. "You know I won't let anything bad happen to you, right?" He asks, nonchalant as ever. Your eyes snap to study his face in the mirror, surprised a little bit by his question. No, you certainly did not know that.

"What do you mean?" You ask your friend, certain you misheard him. He was hardly the sentimental type of friend. Though you'd known each other your entire lives, most days you just assumed he stuck with you for the convenience of it. That Chishiya would be fine on his own if something ever happened to you. It didn't really bother you, you still cared about him all the same.

The boy shrugs with one shoulder, starting to move his nimble fingers through your strands as he's finally satisfied that he's gotten all of the tangles out. "I just mean that you don't need to be as afraid when I'm around. I have your back," he says.

You blink once, twice. In shock, because Chishiya rarely talks period, but to make a statement that is intended to comfort you is completely out of his character. And it made your heart soar. "Thank you," you whisper, sincerely. Feeling tears spring up again, but holding it in. The corners of his lips tilt upward slightly, meeting your eyes in the mirror and nodding. A true best friend moment.

Chishiya ties off the braid with an elastic and clips in the emerald velvet bow that matches your school uniform, before moving his hands to squeeze your shoulders lightly once. You got this.

Niragi calls your name from downstairs as you're finishing dotting concealer underneath your eyes, "So help me, Koko! We have to leave, now!" You know he is pacing at the bottom of the stairs, likely wearing a hole in the wood paneled floor. He always does that when he's nervous.

You take one last deep breath in front of the mirror, trying to summon some confidence. Chishiya told you not to worry, that he would keep you safe no matter what. And you really believed him.

You bound down the carpeted stairs, coming face to face and nearly colliding with your grumbling and semi-panicked brother at the bottom. He sighs in short-lived relief, pausing for a moment to brush a wrinkle out of your shirt and hand you your backpack. Niragi scoops up his car keys from the hall table, ushering the three of you out the door to get the day started at long last.

Himari, your next door neighbor, is in the hallway watering the brightly colored begonias she keeps potted outside her door. A radiant smile graces her face upon seeing the three of you, "Good morning! Niragi, when are you going to bring that girl over to have tea and play with the cats?" Niragi smiles lightly as he locks the door to your apartment, "She can come over whenever she wants, except today; unfortunately we're really in a rush this morning." You wave at the older lady, seeing her always brings a smile to your face. You would have to drag Chishiya over there later, Himari always kept his favorite biscuits around. Plus, if you were lucky, you'd be able to find and snuggle with the tabby cat.

The entire ride to school, Niragi peppers you with reminders about how to act and what to say. How to answer the "difficult questions". The interaction does nothing to quell your nerves, honestly making things worse if anything. Chishiya sits quietly in the backseat, watching the Tokyo skyline zoom by while you talk. Your anxious gaze catches his in the rearview mirror and he gives you a tight but reassuring smile. You got this.

You hesitantly wave goodbye to Niragi when he pulls up outside the looming building that was your school, receiving his last minute instructions and assurances before he speeds off. He is definitely late for work now, but you know that is the least of his concerns this morning.

The two of you walk the brightly lit corridor to your classroom, shoes clicking along the freshly waxed tiled floor. Chishiya walks with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, you nervously fidgeting with your earrings. Just as you approach your homeroom where you knew Kaori was waiting to begin her observation, you grip desperately onto your friend's elbow to pull him back.

"Chishiya, I can't do this," you panic, swirling emotions threatening to drown you right here in the hallway, "Let's leave." The blonde that usually flinches away from any contact shocks you again by pulling both of your hands into his own, trying to keep you from fully panicking.

"Look at me," he demands, a confusing mix of emotions on display on his usually blank face, "It might not be easy, but you can do this. You're going to do this. And regardless of what happens in there today or anywhere else any other time, I will keep you safe." Your breath catches in your throat at the sheer weight of his words.

"You really mean that, Chishiya?" you ask, voice wavering just a little bit. He nods, eyes still meeting yours, soft and tender instead of cold and calculating.

"I promise."

That's good enough for you to take the final steps to the classroom, twisting the brass doorknob to open the door and greet Kaori and your teacher.

You're confident now that no matter what life throws at you, you'll always have your best friend on your side to keep you safe.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

The Game Itself Masterlist

The Game Itself Tag List: @moonchild323232 @princesskatxo @lovelygias @carlgrimesfuturegf @audiiix @maxinehufflepuffprincess @aeristocrats @unhinged-sorcerer @potato-vagina @kimsrie @mocchii-writes @rillianeswife @baizhumylove @joshuaslv

Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) the tag list!

It's also totally fine if you aren't interested in the universe building one-shots! Anyway, ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[latinoocverse]

🎭✨ Creatures of Our Land: Invitation to Supernatural OCs from Latin America ✨🩸

Do you have a vampire who speaks lunfardo? A witch from the mountains with a podcast? A ghost from the highlands with an OnlyFans account (but an artistic one, obviously)? Maybe you're a fan of magical realism. This space is for you.

Welcome to a blog where the original characters (OCs) don't come from European castles, but from the streets, jungles, cemeteries, and myths of our Latin America.

The idea of this blog is to share supernatural creations with a local flavor. Let your characters have real names, speak in their own voices, breathe our climates, suffer our stories, and shine with their darkness.

Here you can share:

Illustrations, comics, or animations

Character sheets

Short stories

Future projects, other networks where you sell similar artistic content

Your memes, playlists, or whatever comes to mind

Why do it?

Because our legends also deserve an expanded universe. Because creativity is resilience. And because, admit it, you've always wanted to see La Llorona performing a duet with your vampire OC in a club in Jujuy.

The creativity our people wield is incredible, and I think we deserve to share it. And because I also think that's how big dreams begin: by helping each other.

🌐 Comment, share, or send your creation. Here, myths walk among us.

Tracking the following tags (they may change or we may add more): #OCLatino #SobrenaturalCriollo #LeyendasUrbanas #BlogSobrenatural #FolkloreLatino #ArteOscuroLatam #Latinoocverse

[astrologysaysno]

You can find my first post about trainee Shang Qinghua here

Expanding on the lore of trainee Shang Qinghua, I believe that as an author, he would definitely put random songs he likes as part of PIDW lore.

Head Disciple Shang Qinghua is spectating Qing Jing Peak with his master for a performance. News has spread of the Peak Lord unearthing some old prehistoric songs that have never been played before, and that Qing Jing has been able to successfully decipher some of the old text symbols to be played.

Shang Qinghua hears it for the first time and is at first a little off put by the fact that he recognizes it somewhat but then he remembers and begins to die inside, cause how do you explain the fact that he knows this mysterious, centuries old song, and that this actually a k-pop b-side track from about two millenias into the future.

This becomes an unfortunate dilemma where, due to the song's catchy nature, when he thought no one was looking, Shang Qinghua began singing the song.

The big problem here is that what the Qing Jing Peak has deciphered was simply a musical score sheet, and that the version Shang Qinghua is singing isn't just vocalisations, there's actual words.

Being heard by the An Ding Peak Lord, he gets the bright idea of contacting the Qing Jing Peak Lord and begins to force Qinghua and Shen Jiu to collaborate to complete the song and perform it.

No one is happy in this scenario.

Shang Qinghua now has to figure out how to work with the scum-villain-to-be Shen Jiu without giving away his nature as a transmigrator, his connection to Mobei-jun, and messing up the plot and everything going wrong

Shen Jiu now has to collab with his greatest (one-sided) nemesis into creating a show-worthy performance, all the while trying to investigate Shang Qinghua and his shady secrets.

Mobei-Jun now believes he has a rival fighting for Qinghua's affections and that he's clearly losing cause. Have you seen these lyrics? Obviously, my rival is getting the upper hand, and I won't stand for that.

[prettyoddfever]

the Seattle Ryden story is fake.

Tumblr's new post format is way better than 2020, so I’m expanding my old post here.

THE GENERAL STORY:

I just googled this...

REAL-LIFE AUGUST 2007 EVENTS:

The band did a string of shows & appearances in the UK (Decaydance Fest, Kerrang Awards, Reading, Leeds) in late August 2007. The last show was on August 26th and then the band flew back home (they lived in Vegas & Chicago btw... not California). They had a few days off before they needed to be in Seattle for their Bumbershoot performance on September 1st. Brendon and Ryan had a work obligation in NYC on August 31st, so it looked like Ryan went to stay with Keltie in NYC. There were pictures of them hanging out in places like Central Park and they did this photoshoot.

Yes, Keltie threw Ryan a bday party at Angels & Kings on August 30th. Ryan hung out at Angels & Kings with Keltie and her friends earlier that summer too. Plus, Travie McCoy had a birthday party at Angels & Kings that summer with a cake that looked very close to the one Ryan got. Their bday parties were good publicity for the new bar. Angels & Kings had opened around early May that year and other Decaydance bands invested in it, but the P!ATD guys had been too young.

Ryan's friends who lived in NYC were at the party, like Gabe Saporta, Eric Ronick, and Travie McCoy (who also performed at Bumbershoot). However, Ryan's crew of Vegas friends he'd been hanging out with that year weren't there. It just seemed like a NYC thing. I didn't think it was weird that the band members who weren't even in NYC were absent, even though I didn't know specifically why. A lot of fans assumed that the guys wanted a few days off nbd. Also, even if Brendon was in NYC in time for that party, he was still underage. A couple weeks later he and Spencer were turned away from Crush Management's party before the VMAs lol.

Anyways, on August 31st Brendon and Ryan needed to do the interview for Fuse that was chopped up to use in all of those Videos That Rocked The World daily episodes that came out after Thanksgiving:

These episodes covered some big names, so it was very cool that P!ATD's opinion was included... even if the ads seemed to feature Brendon & Ryan more than the actual episodes did lol. Here's an example of the first episode (others were for Madonna, Aerosmith, OK Go, Guns N' Roses, Van Halen, Britney Spears, Public Enemy, Alanis Morissette, and Beastie Boys):

here's more from that episode.

The band's Fuse interviews were usually done in New York City while they were on tour. A few years ago I emailed someone who worked on the VTRTW set because I wanted to double-check the date and location of Brendon & Ryan's interview before sharing that it wasn't Seattle. She gave me some other contact info and three very kind people looked into their old emails & call sheets. The director and the executive producer for the VTRTW series separately confirmed the NYC location and 8/31 date. Maybe they were both mistaken about the location, and Fuse randomly decided to film in Seattle despite the fact that their studio was in NYC... but the romantic motivation for Ryan to join Brendon is still erased.

Also, whoever made up the Seattle story seems to think that birthdays were important and meaningful to Ryan to the extent that he would fly across the country in the middle of the night to spend it with someone ~special. Ryan talked to Upbeet Music in fall 2005 about touring on his birthday and said "Birthdays were never a really huge deal in my family so it’s not like I’m bummed out that I didn’t get a party or anything so it’s cool." Obviously people can change over the years, so I'm just adding that as a side detail.

THE PICTURE:

Does anyone know who the fan is who shared the picture above? and what their original story was? It’s repeated a lot but I’ve never seen a source, a direct quote, or anyone who even saw the original person’s post (which is super weird). The whole Seattle story sounds about as reliable as the current fandom’s “funeral picture” tbh. There was also a problem in the pre-split years where some fans would steal other people’s pictures, claim it was theirs, invent a story about meeting the band, and then crop out or draw over the original person (and spin a story about how they looked ugly that day, didn’t want their face online, didn't want the band to know who was sharing the story, etc). Maybe that happened here too.

side tangent: idk why people are saying that since Ryan's outfit in the picture above is the same as his birthday then he must have arrived in Seattle without luggage. Why even add that part lol. He clearly wore a different outfit of his for Bumbershoot.

Anyways, I do agree that the picture at the top of this post looks like it was taken around the same time as the interview based on small details with their hair & outfits (the fact that they're wearing the same general clothes isn't reliable because those guys could repeat outfits for daysss). Fuse was located on 7th Avenue across from Madison Square Garden. The background of the picture looks like it could potentially be in that whole area. Maybe a fan got a picture with them while they were heading to their interview, who knows.

OTHER SEATTLE THINGS THAT *SHOULD* BE UNRELATED:

Yes, Brendon changed a line in That Green Gentleman to joke about Ryan while they were doing an acoustic show at the Space Needle in Seattle in October 2008. That was a normal thing and shouldn't stand out in any way.

Please don’t ruin Northern Downpour by dragging it into the Seattle theory and/or making it a Ryden thing. People are wildly misinterpreting some interview quotes & events (possibly because they don’t understand Ryan’s role in the band), so there’s more in this post about Northern Downpour.

Brendon, Ryan, Spencer, and Brent all talked about how much they loved the Pacific Northwest starting from the first time they played a show there in fall 2005. The boys were from a desert area and talked a lot in the early months about how they hadn’t had the chance to travel much (except Brent had been to Canada). Each time they visited Seattle or Portland at least one of them would mention how they loved the weather, trees, etc. Their strong appreciation of Seattle started in 2005 and has nothing to do with a fake affair in 2007.

There are a lot of assumptions surrounding the Seattle story in general, most of which seem to come from a lack of knowledge about the band. Even this post still assumes & projects a lot:

Brendon was not Ryan's best friend in 2007. That was pretty easy to spot (there's more in this post).

idk what else people are saying about Seattle, but I'll probably add more here later

[afterartist]

HELICALTALE MAIN CAST LINEUP!!

(Not ll of the characters but the most important ones to the plot)

‘And now: AU Infodump

BUT BEFORE ANYTHING!!

I will be answering any questions (within reason) any of you have about the au, even if it’s about some random side character only three people have ever heard of before

I live world building and any chance to expand on this world are treasured

I’ll probably answer with fun little doodles as well lol

So ask away :D!!

Basic AU overview:

Helicaltale is NOT a classic based Timeline.

The AU is set in a world where Mt Ebott was destroyed during the war, leaving a desert crater in its place, no protection for the Monsters to retreat and nowhere to seal them underground. In response, the Human mages put a spell on Monster kind, ‘Helios’ Curse’, forcing them to be unable to touch sunlight or else they’d burn (think Vampires or Minecraft Mobs)

The main story takes place 87 years after the war ended and 29 years after friendly communications between the two races begun, with the Monsters settled in a camp like city, made of tents and canvas buildings, around the oasis that formed in the desert that was now known as Ebott crater. Humans and Monsters have achieved peace between the races, regular trading routes and communications set up between the two cities.

Now all that was left was for both Humans and Monsters to find a way to break Helios’ Curse for good.

(None of them can touch Sunlight (minus the humans) but the ones more lightly dressed (Gaster, Alphys, Asgore) all live in the city, with proper buildings not at risk of being blown over at any second so can afford to not be covered up 100% of the time)

Locations:

Ebott City-

The capital city of the country, Ebott is a massive human settlement, overshadowing old ruins left by the war. It’s currently the main base of conferences between human and monster relations.

The Oasis-

The Monster settlement, made from tents and interconnecting canvas sheets, from above it looks like a colourful cluster of a campground, large sheets stretched over the streets. From within it’s only lit by lamps and magic, the sky completely blocked out by tarps and canvas to avoid accidentally getting burned by sunlight, to those not familiar with the city it’s a labyrinth, others, its home.

(A major inspiration for the Oasis is the Kowloon walled city, for those interested in a more accurate visual of the Oasis)

The Great Fence-

While the name conveys grandeur, the fence is a simple chain link fence acting as the border around the entire Oasis, topped with barbed wire and adorned with tarps, it’s designed to protect the residents against wild animals like Coyotes and be a barrier against sandstorms more than it is to keep people out, one of the most regular jobs for the Royal guard other than being general peace keepers is to uphold the fence, often sending patrols out after heavy storms to keep everything in order.

Central Oasis-

A mix between Newhome and Waterfall, it’s the main hub of the town, the Royal family living there along with the majority of schools and recreational areas, most Water based monsters (ie: Shyren, Aaron ect ect) also live in this area, a large lake of water being the centerpiece of the city.

Lights district-

To the west side of the city is the main shopping hub, while much more open than the majority of the Oasis, many stores foregoing walls on their tents entirely, its full of stores and restaurants, the most well known being Grillby’s and Muffets joint restaurant, many visitors to the Oasis come for the night life of the lights district, the monsters that live in that area making the camp around them as flashy and attractive as possible, neon lights and dancing flames lighting up the darkness of the district, the Celebrities Mettaton and Nabstablook have also been alluded to frequent the region and perform for onlookers.

Sandbank-

The Snowden equivalent of the AU, having gotten its name due to its position at the east side of the city, being the least protected by the walls of the crater, Sandbank often gets the brunt of the sandstorms that hit the desert, leading many of the Royal Guards live in this area in case of an emergency during the storms.

Southside (the Black Market)-

Technically not its official name, the Southside of the Oasis is whispered about in the dark of night, rumours telling of an illegal market place and shady monsters working in the south, many a monster wandering in and never coming out. While most likely just old wives tales, its best you keep your distance, just in case.

(Yeah I made the Black Market an actual real marketplace because that will never not be funny to me)

Hotlands-

The north most section of the Oasis is best known as Hotlands, given the name as it’s the highest section of city but also the most shielded by the crater walls, leaving it boiling without any wind to seep out the heat’. There’s been speculation that Hotlands actually sits over an underground chamber of magma, adding to the blistering temperature.

Characters:

The Dreemurrs:

Frisk- (Any Pronouns)

Frisk is an 11 year old kid, a runaway from one of Ebott City’s Orphanages, known for its less than legal treatment of the children. Having joined Chara as the eldest helped them both escape, Frisk followed Chara into the desert, looking for shelter from CPS.

During the trek however Frisk falls sick with an illness, most common in Monsters but able to infect anyone with strong magic, called Icarus syndrome.

With Icarus syndrome being effectively Hyperthermia of the soul, any physical treatment is ineffective, needing a particular medication to have any hope of survival, leaving the crater as not just refuge but possibly their only chance of survival.

Chara- (They/Them)

Chara is 16 and the orchestrator of the escape from the Orphanage with Frisk, after having been in contact online with a kid from the Monster camp that offered assistance. During the escape Frisk fell ill, forcing Chara to locate and purchase the rare medicine. Ending up in the Monster equivalent of the black market, Chara found a monster begrudgingly willing to help, trading a magical glass eye, a prosthetic their grandfather made for both humans and monsters during the war, for a small vial of medicine. The trader warning them to keep out of the black market before dropping the two kids off safely at the center of the Oasis.

Asriel- (He/Him)

Asriel is the firstborn son of the Dreemurrs and heir to the Royal throne, at 16 he made contact and became friends with a kid online, the other telling him of the danger they and their sibling were in at the Orphanage. Quickly offering up his home, knowing both his parents had fostered and cared for many children in the past and wouldn’t turn away two more. Upon meeting them in the Oasis he makes fast friends with both Frisk and Chara, practically adopting them as siblings on the spot.

Toriel- (She/Her)

Queen of the Oasis at 143 years old, Toriel has seen her fair share of bloodshed and peacetime, giving her the knowledge to recognise that protecting young children is the best way to ensure their future, guiding them to Mercy and pragmatic solutions instead of Fighting. One of the first things she did after Monsters had finally settled into the Oasis being starting up a school, becoming the primary teacher for a good few years before other parents eventually began to join her staff. Though, with the two new children her son had brought to her doorstep, she’s begun to realise it’s not just the children of Monster kind that need protection.

Asgore- (He/Him)

King of the Oasis and 146 years old, Asgore grew up at the front lines of the war, the heinous acts shaping him into the pacifist he is today. Currently away from the Oasis, Asgore has turned his sights on communications with the Humans, staying at the city while conferences with the city leaders on trade routes and transportation commence. He is also overseeing the Monster half of the Science team, working closely with the Royal Advisor and Scientists Gaster in developing a cure to Helios’ Curse. He remains in frequent contact with the Oasis, making the trip back every weekend to see his now growing family and make sure Toriel isn’t overwhelmed with responsibilities.

-

The Fonts:

Dr. Gaster- (He/Him)

At 140, Gaster has spent his life developing weapons for war (the Gaster Blaster being his pride and joy) and perseverance for Monster Kind, having a massive distaste for all Humans and most Monsters. The sudden change from war efforts to restoration efforts throwing his life in disarray. Jumping at the chance to use Human equipment on government funded experiments, Gaster didn’t hesitate to leave his sons Sans and Papyrus (9 and 4 at the time) back at the Oasis to move to the city and begin work. He’s had a hand in creating many inventions helping Monster kind (both helping with the medicine for Icarus Syndrome and a magic Sunscreen that can briefly minimise the effects of the sun) and the head of the Selene Project, the project to break the curse.

Sans- (He/Him)

28 and thriving, Sans has made a name for himself as both the comedic slacker of the Royal guard and the savvy businessman as one of the Black Markets best traders. Having been forced to raise both himself and Papyrus from a young age, Sans became intwined with the black market at the age of 12, after Papyrus caught Icarus Syndrome and receiving no help from Gaster off in the city, Sans was forced to find his own way of getting medication. At the age of 12 he found his way into the black market, ending up trading his right eye, and subsequently some of his shortcut abilities with an underground doctor in exchange for the medicine, to this day he hasn’t told anyone what happened to his eye. From then on he found himself going back and getting into trading as a way of making money as a side job while both he and Papyrus worked to get into the Royal guard, quickly becoming infamous in the criminal world of the Oasis, though he had a rule that no kids were to ever be found trading in the market. A rule that quickly got broken when a young human kid stumbled into his shop, begging for help, offering a magic glass eye as payment. Unable to send the kid off without help (or turn down the irony of selling the meds for an eye) he made the trade before guiding the kid and their sibling to the Oasis center.

-

(Bonus:)

After dropping the kids off, Sans makes an attempt to use the prosthetic eye, yet upon fitting it into his socket, the magic activated and bonded with his soul, causing the eye to become fused with his being, immovable. Along with the eye he’s suddenly able to see things he, by all means, should NOT be able to see, including text bubbles from the creators (similar to error sans)

He also finds, magically in his pocket, a small golden key, only figuring out its use after stumbling across a door in the middle of nowhere, upon using the key on the door he finds himself in an entirely different AU, door closing and disappearing behind him.

This is what leads him to discover the Multiverse and travel between AUs (inconveniently ending up in Nightmares Castle more times than he’d care to count)

-

Papyrus- (He/Him)

The Great Papyrus, second in command of the Royal guard at the younge age of 23 (you may applaud now)

Having grown up with just himself and Sans, Papyrus always wanted to become something great to make his brother proud, despite Sans’ insistence that he’s already proud of him. When he was 13, while Sans was out getting food, Papyrus had been targeted and hunted down by a group of bullies from the Southside of town, the group of teens taking turns in beating him up, eventually escalating to the point where one of them pulled a mirror from their pocket and used it to reflect a beam of sun directly onto his face, leaving a permanent scar,

He was saved however, when a teen he recognised from the Oasis center came charging out from one of the nearby tents, picking up handfuls of sand and hurtling it at the other kids before beating them up with her fists alone. Once over, the girl had turned, helped Papyrus up and took him to see her grandfather, the current head of the Royal Guard, a job she loudly proclaimed she was going to have one day,

Ever since then he attempted and eventually got into the Royal guard, along with Sans and the teen, Undyne.

-

Gersons:

Undyne- (She/Her)

29, Captain of the Royal Guard, Wife of the best woman around, living the high life! Having been raised by her grandfather Gerson for longer than she could remember, she’s always looked up to the Royal Guard, no matter how her Grandfather told her it wasn’t all glory. She’d been sneaking out and training with one of the Royal Guards for 8 years by the time she was 19, stumbling across a fight, six of her classmates beating down on a young skeleton. She’d jumped to defense before she’d even registered it, helping the kid up and getting him patched up where eventually the kids brother, Sans, one of Alphys’ friends found them and thanked her profusely.

The three became fast friends, practically siblings, both of them there at her and Alphys’ wedding and her promotion to Captain of the Royal guard.

Alphys- (She/They)

27 and already one of the best Scientists in the whole country. Alphys’ having grown up in Hotlands would have never dared to dream she’d be working with a whole team of like minded scientists, especially not in the human city, though not being able to see her Wife as often was a dampener. Dr. Gaster was also a bit, overzealous, with the project, it was only a matter of time before the madman created some temporal superflux that blew up half the block, even if she wouldn’t be anywhere near as prestigious without his guidance, despite Sans’ reservations for letting them near him.

(I will be adding more to this AU btw, it’s in my top 3 faves lmao)

Bonus:

Animation I’ve done for Helical Sans to explain how his AU hopping works

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 10.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 5,7K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen has beta read this and crafted an aftercare scene for this chapter! It's just fluff and smut people, they take a day off.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Renly slept wrapped around Viktor like a vine, her greedy arms encircling his frame, her face pressed tightly into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent all night. Her leg was thrown over his hip, hooking him close—though still unbearably not close enough. Her entire body rose and fell with the rhythm of his breaths.

Viktor didn’t mind—it was a sweet weight, grounding him and nesting him deep into the mattress. His body was sore and tired, but without the usual aches and tensions. And, most importantly, his mind was at peace. He stroked her hair and pressed his fingers to her temple, weakly attempting to wake her.

“Mmm… Viktor?” Renly took a deep breath, expanding her chest to press a little more firmly against his. She held him tighter, then asked, “Have I been crushing you all night?”

“Crushing?” He smiled softly, his voice hushed. “And here I was hoping it was an embrace of affection, not an attempt to crush me.” He murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead in a light, sleepy peck.

She smirked against his skin, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Maybe a bit of both. I can’t help it. You’re just… easy to hold on to.”

“So,” Viktor began, his voice still low and warm, as if savouring the night between them in his tone. “Did you… enjoy yourself last night?”

Renly thought back to it, facing it from afar for the first time. His touch—deliberate and firm, yet gentle throughout—his eyes never leaving her, studying her carefully as if she were a puzzle he both could and had to crack. All the attention she had received during. And after.

He had gently slid her off him, given her a lingering kiss, and disappeared into the bathroom. She had no idea how long he’d been gone—time had stretched itself, a blink or an eternity—while she lay there, listening to the soft rush of water from the tap and the quiet sound of his footsteps on the tiles.

The tap of his cane on the wooden floor announced his return before she felt the warmth between her thighs. A washcloth, soft and soothing, eased down her soreness, cleaning his seed from between her legs with deliberate, careful attention. Another cloth pressed to her chest, wiping away the sweat that had cooled and left her shivering. A trail of kisses followed, scattered across her body as he performed his ministrations. She heard Viktor’s voice, low and tender, asking if she was alright. And then his warm chuckle when she barely managed to hum a ‘yes.’

He pulled her upright, guiding her toward the bathroom. “You have to pee after sex,” he murmured into her ear, and she snorted despite herself. Always on top of things.

By the time she returned, the bed was made fresh—the old sheets folded neatly by the door. Viktor shuffled on the mattress to reach for her, pulling her back into his arms. She tumbled into his embrace, awash in bliss.

Viktor held her close, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear, lulling her toward sleep. Their bodies entwined, filling each other’s gaps. As her breathing deepened, the last things she remembered were the feel of his lips pressed to her forehead, the skin of his chest warm beneath her palms, and his hair tickling her face.

Renly hesitated, her lips parting but not quite finding the words. The question seemed so simple, yet everything from the night before swirled inside her, tangled in a way she wasn’t quite ready to untangle.

“It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting,” she said after a moment, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart beat a little faster with the admission.

Viktor’s brow furrowed slightly, though the amusement in his eyes never faded. “Not what you expected?” he repeated, leaning in a little closer, his fingers brushing through her hair in a slow, gentle rhythm. “Did I not meet your expectations?”

“No, that’s not it,” she quickly corrected, feeling the weight of the moment shift. “It’s really an overstatement to say I would dare expect anything after my futile attempts to get your attention,” she said, giving Viktor a look that meant she wasn’t finished, so it wasn’t his cue to protest just yet.

“So, if we state that I did have expectations, you... exceeded them. I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip in a way that made Viktor’s pulse quicken. “I thought you might be... more shy about it. Not so... sure of yourself. Domineering.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he tilted his head, studying her. “Shy?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of mockery. “I thought I had made it clear I had no reason to be shy.”

Renly glanced up at him, her eyes searching his face for the right words. “Well, I suppose I thought... I thought maybe you’d be more shy. More reserved. But it wasn’t like that at all.” She paused, her fingers grazing his skin absently as she added, “I didn’t expect you to be so confident.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, a quiet understanding in his eyes. “It took me a long time to come around,” he said, his tone almost reflective. “Not because I wasn’t interested, but because my situation... it’s not one that makes room for hesitation. For fear, even. I’ve had to learn to rely on my mind, to keep up.” His eyes met hers, his expression serious.

“That’s the part of me that I rely on. The strength of my mind, my intellect. It perhaps could be seen as a compensation for my body’s limitations,” he said quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to that fact. “But the experience I’ve gained has granted me the realization that this is the way I like to cherish my partners. If it is not to your liking, be honest with me—I will adjust, reform.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she tried not to let her surprise show. “I—” she started, her voice quiet, “Viktor, I loved every second of it.”

“Which I believe was quite easy to spot,” she chuckled slightly, trying to unload the tension in herself.

“Hmm, once or twice, maybe. Though, by my calculations, it was something around three,” Viktor teased her, visibly pleased by her praise. “We all have our time, Renly. I’m not rushing you. But I need to ask—did I hurt you? Did I miss something?”

“No,” she whispered, her hand instinctively moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “No, you didn’t. It’s just... new. And I don’t think I’ve been this vulnerable in a long time. The initiative of this kind was usually on me in the past, you see.”

Viktor’s expression softened further, and he gently cupped her face in his hand. “Then it seems in matters of vulnerability, we are in the same place,” he murmured.

“And Viktor, I—” she tried to find the words to express her adoration without sounding trite. “To say your body is limited after last night would be a horrific lie,” she paused, thoughts forming. “I’ve complimented you more than once, but maybe I have to do it until it lands properly—you are absolutely breathtaking. Perfect, even.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed slightly in surprise, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Is that so?”

A quiet, pleased laugh escaped Viktor as he met her gaze, his hand brushing through her hair with a softness that matched the moment. “You’re not so bad yourself, Renly,” he teased, the warmth in his voice betraying his usual reserved nature.

Renly raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in a playful smirk. “Not so bad, huh? You think I’m ‘not so bad,’ Viktor?”

Viktor, feeling emboldened by her words, leaned in just slightly, his breath grazing her lips as he whispered, “If you only knew.”

“You’ve asked me once what drives me, curiosity or conviction, remember?” he said, recalling their earlier conversation in the lab when Renly had tried to probe his thoughts for hints of humanity.

“It rings a bell,” she teased, brushing her thumb across his lower lip, remembering the moment beat for beat.

“Curiosity was what drove me to you. And now we are here because you became my conviction. Conviction born of curiosity; I told you it was entirely possible,” he said, closing his eyes as he suckled on Renly’s thumb. The moment was so thick with intensity that heat began to pool in her underbelly.

“Are you saying you’re obsessed with me now, Viktor?” she tried for cheeky, but it came out more like a plea.

Viktor’s lips quirked into a slow, deliberate smile as his gaze roamed over her face, his voice dipping into a low, velvety tone. “If I am, Renly, you have only yourself to blame. A brilliant mind paired with temptation—how could I resist?”

Seeing her flush, he added triumphantly, “And now my dearest conviction, you are on coffee duty.”

“Is that my fate now? A slave, at the mercy of a brilliant scientist?” she exclaimed dramatically, only to stop mid-performance, her eyes glinting with anticipation. “Wait… does this mean? The best-kept secret of this universe will finally be revealed?”

“You wish. Just bring the sugar with you,” Viktor chuckled. Maybe one day he would tell her how much sugar he took with his coffee, but today was not that day.

“Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll have to go to work at some point,” she said, sitting up and reluctantly leaving Viktor’s warmth behind.

Viktor’s expression shifted, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning as he gave a small shake of his head. “No, you won’t. I’ve already taken care of it,” he said, his tone almost smug. “We can have the day to ourselves if you want.”

She blinked, the words not quite processing at first. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “I’ve postponed the tasks for today. We have the day to ourselves, if you want it.”

Renly stared at him for a moment, surprise evident in her eyes. “You did what?”

He shrugged lightly, a half-smile playing on his lips. “I thought you might appreciate a day without distractions. We both deserve a break.”

For a brief moment, she just watched him, trying to understand why he’d taken the initiative to do something so unexpected. “I didn’t think you’d ever—” She paused, searching for the right words, unsure if she was hiding her amazement or if she truly couldn’t believe it. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to just... take a day off.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I can surprise you, can’t I?” He leaned back, his hands resting behind his head, looking relaxed in a way she had rarely seen. “It’s a luxury, yes, but sometimes it’s the most important thing. I’ve been working nonstop for months. We deserve to take a breath.”

Renly’s chest tightened slightly as she let his words sink in. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

His grin widened just a little. “I’ve been known to consider all angles before making a decision.”

“Clearly,” Renly said, her voice soft with admiration. “You’ve thought about a lot more than just work.”

Viktor met her gaze, his smile slowly shifting into something more serious, more thoughtful. “It’s not just work that defines us, Renly. It’s everything else. Sometimes, we need to... feel something outside of our work, outside of our research. To remind us there’s more to life.”

Her heart stilled for a moment as she stared at him, the weight of his words settling over her. “I would love to stay here then. If you will have me.”

Viktor’s eyes softened. He cupped her face in both hands. “Oh, I will have you. I will be having you until you tire of me,” he said in a deep, hushed voice, placing longing kisses on her face. “Come now, I’ll show you around my place.”

***

After a brief tour of his apartment, they settled back in the bedroom. Renly’s eyes roamed over Viktor’s shelves, lighting up as she periodically exclaimed whenever she spotted a book she wanted to read.

“I will share anything you ask me for,” he said finally, chuckling as yet another “What about this one?” was tossed his way for the fifth time.

“That remains to be seen,” she replied sweetly, turning away from the books to look at him. Her gaze landed on Viktor as he sat on the bed, fastening his braces back on, and for a moment, she felt like she shouldn’t be watching.

Viktor caught the slight shift in her posture, the way she pivoted nervously. The corner of his eye softened as a familiar warmth spread through his chest.

“Renly, it is fine,” he said gently, then patted the space beside him, beckoning her to sit. “Come here—I will show you.”

Renly hesitated for a moment before crossing the room and settling beside him on the bed. Her curiosity outweighed her nerves as Viktor turned to face her, his amber eyes warm, yet measured.

He began with the chest brace, lifting the edge of his shirt to reveal the intricate framework she’d glimpsed before. “You’ve seen this already,” he said softly, tracing a finger along the metal ridges. “It keeps my posture balanced and my spine intact.”

Her brows knit together as she studied the brace, her gaze flitting between the metal and his steady hands. “Does it hurt?” she asked quietly.

“Periodically, yes,” Viktor admitted, his voice calm. “If I don’t secure it properly, it can press in ways it shouldn’t, as you may know. But I’ve learned to manage.”

Her fingers hovered hesitantly over the brace before she pulled them back, unsure. “Do you take it off every day?”

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No. It’s... a hassle to put back on, so I only remove it when absolutely necessary.” He paused, his gaze flickering toward her, something unspoken glinting in his eyes. “Sometimes, I take it off to sleep. When I want more freedom of movement.”

Renly’s cheeks warmed as his words hung in the air, the hint of their shared night unmistakable. She lowered her eyes briefly, but when she looked back up, he was watching her with quiet amusement, as if savouring her reaction.

“And this,” Viktor continued, gesturing toward the brace on his leg, “is a little more complicated.” He adjusted his position, angling himself so she could see better. “It supports the muscles and joints. Keeps me mobile.”

Renly leaned closer, her fingers itching to explore the mechanism. Viktor seemed to sense her hesitation, gently guiding her hand to the edge of the brace. “Here,” he murmured, his voice low. “Feel this.”

His hand rested lightly over hers, guiding her fingers along the sleek metal and carefully crafted supports. Her breath caught as she realized how intimate the moment was—not just the closeness, but the way he trusted her, the way he let her in.

“It’s like your armour,” she said softly, her voice almost reverent.

“Yes,” Viktor agreed, his tone steady. “It is my armour. It protects me, allows me to move forward.” He shifted, his gaze locking with hers. “And now... you are the only one who will see me without it.”

Her heart stuttered at the weight of his words. She didn’t know what to say, only that she didn’t want to break the fragile spell between them. So instead, she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, her hand still resting on his brace.

“I don’t think you need it as much as you think,” she said after a long silence, her voice soft but firm.

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that rumbled through his chest. “Perhaps not,” he murmured. “But it is a part of me now. As much as anything else.”

Renly closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet intimacy settle over them. Beside her, Viktor shifted, his hand reaching for his coffee cup.

“Oh, don’t tell me—did I miss it?” she whined in mock disappointment, narrowing her eyes at the mug in his hand. The secret to how much sugar floated in Viktor’s coffee still eluded her.

“It would appear so,” he said smugly, taking a deliberate sip as if to taunt her.

She folded her arms with a theatrical huff before his next question caught her off guard. “What would you like to do today?”

Renly tilted her head, musing for a moment, before a sly smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t want to step a foot outside of this apartment today, if you catch my meaning,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “But I am desperate. For a shower.”

“That,” Viktor replied, brushing his fingers lazily through her hair, “I can arrange.” He paused, tilting his head as his hand slid to her shoulder. “Would you mind some company? I might finally get my back properly washed now that I have you around.” His lips curled into a smirk as he swiftly pulled her closer, his clever deflection earning a laugh from her.

Renly couldn’t resist. “Back to the slave labour. Yes, Master Viktor, I will wash your back. I exist to serve you,” she said, her voice dripping with exaggerated submission.

But the playful glint in Viktor’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly, replaced by something darker, something intent. “You will be careful with giving me ideas, Renly,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a lower, sultry register.

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his next words a whispered tease against her lips. “I told you I get inspired easily.”

And then he kissed her, before she could reply.

***

They undressed each other again, faster than the last time, yet still unhurried and comfortable in their rhythm. Viktor smirked as her fingers nimbly worked at his shirt.

“You’re doing much better with the buttons today than you did last night,” he teased, earning a huff of mock offense from her.

“Don’t test me, Master Viktor,” she shot back, shushing him into the shower before he could counter.

The water was warm, steam curling around them as Renly settled behind him, her hands gentle but deliberate as she washed his back. She pressed her palms to his shoulders, kneaded the knots in his neck, and brushed over the base of his skull. Viktor’s quiet sighs of contentment filled the space, unguarded and vulnerable, and Renly couldn’t help but smile.

“So, Master Viktor,” she began again, theatrics dripping from her voice, forcing a chuckle from him. “Pray tell, when I prepare your coffee in the morning, how do you take it? White? Black? Insufferably sweet?”

Her grin widened when Viktor groaned, head tilted back under the spray. He turned to face her, the water catching in his hair and running down the sharp lines of his face. “Gods, you are not letting this go, are you?” he laughed, rich and wholehearted in a way that stunned her into silence.

She stilled, momentarily awestruck by him—Viktor, laughing freely, sunlight streaming into the room and making his happiness something golden, something rare.

“You are so persistent,” he said, his voice softer now, though the smile lingered at the edges of his mouth.

“And I will remind you,” Renly countered, her tone knowing as she cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his damp skin, “that we’ve got my stubbornness to thank for standing here, in this shower, together, today.”

She pressed a small, lingering kiss to his lips, her smile curving against his mouth before pulling back. “And…” Her eyes danced mischievously. “You keeping secrets this early into the relationship, Viktor—it just doesn’t bode well, you understand.”

Viktor’s laughter bubbled up again, softer this time, as his arms slid instinctively around her. “I will take my chances,” he murmured, his gaze fond, amused, and wholly devoted.

“And I will not.” Before Viktor understood what she meant, he could feel her warm hand travelling down his belly to the base of his cock. He shuddered at the first touch, startled. “Renly, I—” Viktor hesitated, his voice caught between what he wanted to say and the vulnerability that held him back. “I can’t give anything back to you, here.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” she replied softly, her touch warm as she placed a reassuring hand on his cheek. “But I would like to give something to you, if you’ll allow me.”

Viktor only nodded slowly, his eyes closing in a moment of quiet surprise, his breath caught by the unexpectedness of her words and her gesture. “It will take more than this to break me, little fox,” he said, his eyes still closed, a smile lingering on his lips.

“Oh? Master Viktor, do I hear a challenge?” she said, dragging one finger across his length with a deliberate leisure. She wrapped her fingers around him, gliding her first slowly up and down, stilling her movement slightly when she reached the head. Viktor rested his forehead against hers, his lips parted. Small, surprised groans escaped his throat, making her own core flutter.

She was testing him, measuring and checking everything she had learnt the night before. She pulled his cock gently away from his belly, only to release it, so it slapped back against his skin, having earned herself… a giggle? He giggled. She kept searching within him, noting every movement that seemed to bring him pleasure, etching it into the palace of her mind.

Feeling him fully stiff in her grasp, she added her second palm to cover all of his length. She slid one hand up and down the base of him, her index finger applying occasional gentle pressure to the perineum, making soft whimpers fall from his mouth. Her other hand twisted around his head in a circular movement, spreading the pre-cum that wept at the top of his cock. When the warm water stopped acting as a sufficient lubrication, she deliberately pulled one hand away, only to spit on it theatrically, making sure his gaze followed her.

Viktor watched her movements from underneath hooded eyelids, unable to close his mouth, his brows furrowed in a mix of pleasure and focus. His body twitched underneath her touch, shivers jolting up and down his spine, causing his lower belly to tie into a deliciously painful knot. His fingers were digging into the flesh of her hips and his own hips kept rolling gently into her hands.

She coated his cock in her saliva and Viktor awarded her with a long breathy moan. She wondered if this was how he had felt last night when she was writhing underneath him. If yes, it would have sipped pride into her chest, being able to make him feel like this. Even though his body flexed and strained against her, he was full of quiet grace that she admired with round eyes.

When Viktor started whispering her name distantly, she slid one of her hands below the base of his cock to massage his balls. She was careful with his hot, delicate skin, pulling him gently and applying pressure as his expressions guided her. His breaths began coming in short pants and she could see the muscles of his abdomen contracting in need.

Feeling her fingers work around his head and balls at the same time, Viktor moaned helplessly, leaning his weight on her shoulder, his other hand propped against the wall. He dipped his head to give her a rough, hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue. “More,” he pleaded hoarsely against her lips. “Torture me, Renly,” he whimpered, strain in his voice, but Renly could feel the smirk dancing on his mouth. “Do with me as you see fit, I am at your mercy.” His hot breath washed over her face, and she could feel a knot tying itself in her core.

“Viktor,” she whispered, searching his eyes for any protest, but they were filled only with a lustful haze. She took the image of him in—warmth radiating of him, his red cheeks, pupils so blown the golden rings around them were barely visible, his brows tight and skin glistening with sweat and water. He looked so beautiful, and it was all her doing.

“Please,” he begged her, his pleasure imminent. She sped up her movements, guided by Viktor’s expressions and the sweet sounds his mouth made against her lips. With heavy, audible sighs and his fingers squeezing her shoulder so tight they guaranteed leaving a mark, he spilled himself into her hand, onto her belly, his body hot, wantonly propped against hers.

“Forgive me, I—” Viktor whispered, his breath coming in heavy gasps. “Renly, I...” This time, it was him who struggled to find his words. “I’ve never... before...” Stumbling over the sensation, he tried to give it a name, but he couldn’t.

“Have I achieved the impossible? Are you at a loss for words, my dear scholar?” she smirked, quoting his own words back to him. “But—” she added swiftly, “never apologise to me for this.”

“You are unreal,” he finally breathed out, gulping the water still streaming down his face, baring his teeth in a genuine smile. Then, he pulled her in for one more kiss—slow, tender, and grateful. Leaning toward her ear, he whispered, “Six.”

Renly let out an exaggerated gasp, her face a picture of mock shock at the sugar revelation. “But I might cut down now that you’re around.”

***

“You have caught me off guard today.” They lay resting after the shower, bodies still warm, limbs entangled on the bed.

“I can surprise you too, can’t I?” Renly grinned to herself; her head nestled against Viktor’s stomach.

He chuckled at her playful use of his own words, the sound making her body shake with his laughter.

“I see this is your preferred method to serve justice—death by one’s own sword?” he asked, his arm curling around her shoulders, fingers tracing small circles on her arm.

“You’ve known me long enough to know I take no prisoners,” Renly said with a smile, rolling to spread herself across his chest.

“Certainly. And you’ve known me long enough to know that living on the edge is the only way for me. So I came, like a moth to the flame.” He dragged a finger from the top of her forehead, down her nose, lips, to her chin. She closed her eyes, a gentle hum escaping her lips as she accepted the caress.

“But as I have you here, I’ve come to the realization that some data is missing.” His hand settled on her back. “Like, for example”—he smirked slightly, referring to all the times Renly sang something silly during work—“where does your undeniable musical talent come from, or—” His voice lingered as his finger traced the black line encircling her body. „This.”

Renly propped herself up on her elbow, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the tattoo, as if reminding herself of its presence. “Ah,” she said with a sly tilt of her head. “I noted you taking your time with it yesterday.”

Her tone was curious, teasing, though a note of challenge—almost daring—lurked beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered. “But you knew I had it before yesterday, yes?”

Viktor hummed softly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he shifted under her gaze. “I may have observed it, once or twice,” he admitted, voice measured and smooth, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. “It intrigued me.”

Renly narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest with theatrical suspicion. “And please enlighten me,” she pressed, arching a brow. “How did you manage to observe something that is perpetually hidden under my clothes?”

Viktor tilted his head with exaggerated deliberation, his smile curling into something thoroughly unapologetic. “Ah, you see. One has to be creative.” He paused for effect, raising a finger as though beginning a lecture. “Like, for example, catching a glimpse of your belly when you violate safety measures at work and hop onto stools to retrieve something. Or…” He allowed the silence to stretch just enough before adding, “stare at you shamelessly as you nap on the couch after indulging in a romance book.”

Renly gasped, pressing a hand to her heart with a theatrical flourish of mock outrage. “Viktor, you perverted degenerate!”

His grin broadened, unrepentant as ever, and he spread his arms wide, a picture of dramatized innocence. “That is me, every last bit,” he said. “I plead guilty—I spy on my beautiful colleagues, make them give me massages, cure my afflictions, and terrorize them into sleeping with me, eventually.”

Renly snorted, laughter escaping before she could stop it. “And what is the success rate of that method?” she asked, leaning closer, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Viktor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as though weighing the question with grave importance. “Given that I only had one test subject, the method proved a hundred percent success.” His eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he leaned back against the pillow. “And as I am happy with my results and have decided to conclude my tests, I will now name my method ‘The Viktor’ and pass it on to future generations of frustrated lab workers.”

“You are impossible.” Renly groaned, flopping onto her back as though crushed beneath the weight of his words. “But… I am glad that you are happy with your results.”

“I am thrilled. This… is more than I’ve ever had, with anyone, Renly,” his voice gaining seriousness, though his expression remained gentle. “Well?” He probed her, glancing over the ink markings once again.

"I finally get to see all of this. I would have never guessed where it travels," Viktor’s eyes wandered around her body, taking in the intricate pattern of her tattoo, his voice tinged with quiet admiration.

"And I would have thought your imagination to be bolder after your little display, Viktor," Renly said with a teasing smile, her eyes glinting as she raised an eyebrow at him, her fingers brushing the edge of the tattoo near her shoulder.

"Oh trust me, I was very bold in my fantasies about it. Which is why I would have never guessed," Viktor replied, his mouth curving into a smirk, leaning slightly forward as his gaze lingered on her.

"Viktor! Now I must know! Fantasies? Of what?" Renly leaned in, her tone playful but her curiosity evident, her fingers now tracing the delicate curve near her hip.

"No, I will not allow it! I veto this question as mine was first!" Viktor said with a quick, mocking frown, his hand coming up to gently push her back, his tone light but firm.

"As long as you promise we can come back to mine later," Renly grinned, shifting slightly as she relaxed back against the pillows, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"That I can promise," Viktor answered, nodding seriously, but his eyes softening, a brief smile playing at his lips.

"Alright then. My mother did it for me when I was sixteen—a rite of passage," Renly explained, her fingers moving to trace the lines of the tattoo on her leg, her voice slowing as she thought of the memory. "It’s a ‘lifeline.’ It tells of everything that was, and everything that is going to be." She looked up at him, a slight frown on her face. "Which is why the line up to my sixteenth birthday is on the front of me, and everything else is on my back, where I can’t see it."

"So, what do those patterns mean?" Viktor asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity as his gaze followed the path of her fingers.

"Turbulences. Changes. Complex, and less complex events. You can tell which is which." Renly’s fingers lingered on a curl near her hip, her expression thoughtful. "I think this is you. Where I can almost see it, but not exactly. Like, I could have seen it coming, but I could have also missed it."

"What a delightful spot to be placed upon your body." Viktor’s lips curved into a teasing smile, his fingers brushing over the edge of the tattoo near her waist. "But this means… you were raised in a gang that tattooed children, yes?"

"Yes, but it died out because we ate all of our young," Renly said with a dry laugh, her tone light, though her eyes remained warm.

"It’s a tradition. All girls get it," she added, shifting slightly to face him more directly, her eyes meeting his with a seriousness that contrasted her earlier jest. "And yes, my mom was a witch."

"Yet here you are, a woman of science. What went wrong?" Viktor asked, the hint of a smirk still on his face, his eyes searching hers with gentle curiosity, his hand resting loosely on her arm.

"Bad parenting?" Renly replied with a dry smile, her hand brushing lightly against his chest as she relaxed into him, the humour fading from her voice for a moment.

There was a long pause, the weight of her words hanging in the air as Renly leaned against him, her breath slow and steady. Viktor shifted slightly, his voice quieter, almost hesitant.

"If I may ask—what happened to your parents?" Viktor asked softly, his fingers brushing her hair away from her face, his gaze lingering on her with concern.

"They died on the bridge when I was eighteen," Renly replied, her voice quieter now, her eyes distant as she closed them for a brief moment, recalling the pain.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss," Viktor said gently, his voice filled with quiet empathy, his hand resting lightly on her back.

"It is… alright. It was a long time ago," Renly murmured, her voice steady despite the sadness. "They secured my future, and I am grateful for the time we had." She shifted slightly, meeting Viktor's gaze. "Yours? She asked carefully, sensing that Viktor’s story was similar to hers on this part.

Viktor was silent for a moment, his gaze darkening as he seemed to consider his words carefully. Renly, sensing his hesitation, reached up and touched his cheek lightly, her voice soft and understanding.

"I don’t mind if you don’t want to tell me, now or ever, Viktor," she said quietly, her eyes full of sincerity. "It matters to me the man you are now, not what brought you here. You understand?"

"Thank you," Viktor said, his voice thick with gratitude. "I appreciate it. And I appreciate that you shared this part of you with me." He paused, his eyes meeting hers. "It means a lot."

Renly smiled faintly, shifting closer, her fingers trailing along his jaw, her voice teasing as she spoke again. "Well, now you can pay me back, you know… the fantasies?" “How about I show you what I have envisioned?” His voice matched her tease as his hands crowded her, pulling her closer—it was never close enough for him.

[brabblesban]

Whither is thy beloved gone? Edited / Expanded Edition is complete!

He would have to be the Ascendant again when the dawn breaks, and the Ascendant refused to be that spawn - refused to be anything that man was. The spawn could only ever be allowed to surface in the dark of night, between silken sheets and whispered words; a secret the Ascendant could not allow her to see.

Series Masterlist (AO3)

Art commissioned from @morebird

Whither was originally written in December 2023, in about a span of a month. It was written at a time when my skills as a writer were not as developed, and written at a rather breakneck pace. There were scenes that, as time passed, I realized did not fit my vision of the story. Certain factors in my life at that time prevented me from writing the version of the story that I wanted. Coming back to work on it again and to refine it has been a wonderful, exciting journey.

I would like to thank every single person who has read this work, who will read this work, and especially those who will be rereading it again. Thank you for each and every comment, kudos, like, and reblog. Thank you for walking down this path with Ban and Astarion, and for investing in them. Thank you to every single person who has given input, ideas, and help throughout these long months of writing. 

I would like to dedicate a small paragraph here to @editing-by-night for reaching out to me when I needed it most, and for allowing me the chance to reshape Whither into what I had always dreamed it would be. For holding my hand throughout, and managing me and my writerly tantrums at every turn. 

Thank you for loving my work. I hope you all will love the new and improved version of it.

For more information on the specific changes, my editor has prepared the following for you:

@editing-by-night’s Whither Patch Notes:

Now in simple-past tense

Grammar & punctuation improvements

Sentence structure improvements

Formatting improvements and cohesion

Phrasing & vocabulary improvements for more elegant and evocative imagery, and in some cases for accuracy based on writer’s original intent

Improved context throughout, but most particularly in Chapter 3’s climax (no pun intended)

Minor modifications to Chapter 5 for more appropriate consent

Continuity-kevlar (aka repairs & improvements), with the most significant modifications made to Chapters 6, 8, 12-15, and 19-20

Significant pacing improvements to Chapter 12

Improvements to flow for Chapters 12-15

Minor improvements to Gale’s dialogue in Chapters 13-15, because the wizard of Waterdeep ain’t no bitch.

Performed a vibe check on Chapter 18 and improved it all-around

Additional content added to Chapter 19, to allow for informed consent

In addition to the change above, minor changes to Chapter 20, for improved vibe

Thank you for reading with us!

[cassieoz]

Coaching

"You are so ready! I can feel the enormous tip of the head. Just let me push a little further inside of you. Yes, there it is. Very large! Keep breathing. The drugs have been increased. Yes, I can hear your moaning. It won't be long now."

You are spread out wide on the birthing table, covered in surgical sheets, trying to fight the fast approaching pain of the next contraction. You are clutching the side bars, panting and moaning heavily as your doctor performs an thorough internal examination.

"I just have to stretch you a little wider so we can make progress on the next painful push. Yes, that's right. Extremely painful efforts. Big babies hurt! Alright, it's time to bear down again. Wait for the beeping to indicate the peak!"

You are struggling against the table, pinned by stirrups. You are gasping for air. The pain is rapidly expanding through your laboring core and burning vaginal lips.

"Thats it! The monitors are beeping. The peak of the contraction has erupted. Go! Push down hard! Harder than ever! Birth the huge head. Make it come out RIGHT NOW!"

You grunt loudly as you bear down with a huge scream to move the enormous dome towards your opening. You push again, growling wildly and yelling out as the pain explodes violently as the contraction intensifies.

"Its coming! Its coming right now. The birthing contraction is increasing. Don't hold back. The worst part is about to come. Keep pushing and get it out!"

You frantically tremble as the bolder presses you wider. The urge to deliver triples as your body goes into overdrive. You madly convulse as your powerful work brings the baby closer to the outside world. You let out a screaming roar. The birthing bombardment rockets you forward into battle.

"PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! PUSHHHHH! ITS GIGANTIC!"

You can't stop screaming. Bellowing out, your high pitched cries surround the entire birthing staff as the final denotation of the birthing bomb is set into motion.

"Its enormous! The baby is almost here! One more powerful push! Get it out! RIGHT NOW! Expel the baby with one big, huge push! PUSH IT NOW!"

Your primal anguish cries are accompanied with the wailing sounds of the newly born infant......

[yuseirra]

The title of the song's wiege and it means "cradle", isn't it?

I feel like.. Hyuna's arms felt like a cradle for Luka and that's why the song's name is so. He never had another figure who cared for him as much as she did, right? He doesn't have a mother or a proper parental figure who looked out for him. So Luka was searching for warmth and security, all types of love, not just romantic love from Hyuna, and she symbolizes "childhood" for him, of all the innocence and the young days when he could sing in that garden with her and Hyunwoo.

Hyuna means so much to him, she's basically the embodiment of every type of love and connection he tried to seek,

but a baby needs to graduate from his cradle someday, right. It has come a time where he has to mature and become an adult which he actually never did inside. So this is like a final lullaby and a farewell to his childhood and inner child. The fact that Hyuna sings this for/with him seems to imply this. She really was there for her as a friend and a provider of love and she was probably everything he ever wanted and needed. Luka probably thought he didn't need anyone else as long as she was with him

but he loses her, so he's forced to step out from that mindset and become an adult and break out from the protective shell and image he's created about himself (a doll created to perform on stage). This would be a major turning point, the last chance for him to break free if this character is allowed to grow.

In short, "wiege" to me feels like "Childhood's end" for Luka. A lullaby and a goodbye song to him as a child

+ and I read many comments where people would compliment Hyuna and Luka would sing this to their child in a world they grew up normally and got together... I think so too. I could picture that very well, I feel Luka's one of those characters who's like a blank sheet of paper. He really didn't know any better nor was he allowed to. He'd have been quite different if he had been raised normally with sufficient love. He simply absorbed everything he was taught and created a pretty formidable-looking facade, but I think he's the most childlike of all the characters in this series. It's time he has to start questioning things, if he wants to move on. I want the story to expand on this more ;v;) there's a lot of potential still left regarding how much he could change.

[notchainedtotrauma]

I wrote this (paywalled) essay to grapple with the way the surface, as in more than the epidermis, births and constrains Black life. Going from the facial recognition software to the opacity of Black feminine performance, I expand on what it means to "surface" as a Black person. I'm going to give out the following excerpts to contextualize the essay:

How it is that the surface can hollow and index ? What about the Black epidermis means countability without recognition ? The archive begets the algorithm. The algorithm begets the archive. PredPol, a company producing predictive policing software, rests on the surface of the event. The type of crime. The time of the crime. The location of the crime.

It doesn't traffic in opacity, but neither does it in translucence, beholding the lust for a factory made transparency. Within the Black outside, the continuous and obsessive presence of surface has birthed difficult geographies, all at once hard and dolorous. While a constraining space, the surface can yield playful fugitivity through its mis/use as sedimentation or/and as shadow; a gliding sheet of smoked glass.

[usafphantom2]

Blackbird lands in the dead of night, a Christmas miracle.

December 22, 1982, SR -71 # 974 Emergency landing at Grand Forks Air Force Base, North Dakota.

The crew coordination between the pilots and RSO (Reconnaissance Systems Officer) was one of the strongest contributions to the SR-71’s outstanding safety record.

This trust and bond between them allowed two separate individuals, sitting in two separate cockpits with two different roles, to perform like one individual.

During the emergency descent, Pilot Smith could not see the runway. This was his last chance to land in zero visibility. RSO McKim said, “Strobes on site.”

Then Smith pulled the throttle to idle and felt the runway!

On the night of December 22, 1982, Lt. Col. Bernie Smith and his RSO Major Eddie McKim experienced a left generator failure while on a mission over Iceland / Canada. They selected Grand Forks AFB in North Dakota as the nearest suitable emergency airfield. During the descent, a primary hydraulic system failed, one of the most severe emergencies on the SR-71. They needed to land immediately.

They dumped fuel to reduce the landing weight as they neared Grand Forks. The weather was deteriorating rapidly. It was now two hundred feet overcast, with one-half-mile visibility and a slippery runway with freezing drizzle. During this emergency, Smith flew the instrument landing system down to a minimum. The "Minimums" callout is made at the minimum altitude, and this is the point that the Pilot Flying has to make a decision -- continue landing or bailout. The runway environment was not in sight, and visibility was so bad he could not see anything. The idea of a missed approach was not an option, though, as there were no suitable alternate fields available, and they were too low on fuel.

Smith will never forget Ed’s words while he sat there staring into zero visibility at close ground proximity. “I have the strobes in sight. You’re on the centerline. Keep on coming.” With no visibility around him either, Ed was looking through his viewsight and had picked up the sequence of flashing lights beneath the aircraft. It was this bond and trust that made Smith pull the throttle to idle and sit there until he felt the runway. Miraculously, they landed, blowing out the tires on a sheet of ice. There was only one hangar that would be able to house the crippled Blackbird 605 was just barely big enough to hide the top-secret airplane. Armed Air Force security surrounded the SR-71, protecting it from onlookers, which was standard procedure. On Christmas Eve 1982, Smith and McKim took off for Beale Air Force Base, their home, with a little bonus tail art. “Merry Christmas, Grand Forks”

Eye witness Tom Bennett, “ I was there when it happened. I was a nav in the 46th Bomb Squadron (B52Hs), and we partied with the crew at the club. I believe the pilot’s name was Bernie Smith. The crew lost hydraulics somewhere near Iceland en route back to the States. They wouldn’t make it to Beale, and GFAFB was the last northern tier base open because bad weather precluded them from landing elsewhere. Their departure was on a Saturday, and a large crowd gathered to see it take off. They did an air show for about 10 minutes in the pattern (mostly high-speed runs), and then at the end, they slowed for an approach gear down, then went a gear up, hit the burners, and disappeared into the overcast. A lot of noise, a lot of speed.... “🔥🔥

Four years ago, John Des Portes shared this story with me, and I paraphrased it. One Photo credit goes to Dale Riggs, who was there at Grand Forks and took these two photographs. Second photo credit to Don Hinton who took a picture of the tail art I expanded, and re-took the picture ~ Linda Sheffield

With Ed McKim

@Habubrats71 via X

[2024-grimoire-challenge]

March Week 2 - Spell and Ritual Outline

So this week's prompts sort of all ride alongside one another and go toward one common theme. How to outline and create spells and rituals. It will all focus on the who, what, when, where and how, more or less, which is a pretty good model for anything.

Monday- Basic Outline

New Page/ Lab Notebook - So for this whole ordeal this week, we're going to work mostly in our lab notebook and do some internal thinking, and research. It will be mostly one page each for spell making and ritual making for the entire week, or pages depending on how detailed you want to go. So to start out, make one page for each or add them to the pages you used to define what a spell and a ritual are.

So what are the who, what, when, where, and why of spells and rituals, to you? Make a list of these on a sheet of paper and fill them in with what you feel these things are. You can even do these on the pages you've already made. We'll expand on them as the week goes on.

Research/ new page - herbal research. Pick another herb from you list and go to town on the research! Magical and mundane uses, associations and so on!

Tuesday - purpose, method, ingredients

Research - this is about the “who” “what” and “why” what purposes can you perform a spell or ritual for? Who is the spell for? Who are you performing it on? It can be practically anything or anyone. What are you doing the spell for, what do you want it to accomplish? Looking for love? Need confidence? Want to manifest something? Want to bring more money into your life? Solidify a friendship? Protect yourself or someone else? This is followed directly by why. Why are you looking for love? Why are you protecting yourself or someone else? What you are doing and why you are doing it are intimately connected. Sometimes it can take a great deal of introspection to figure out how these are connected, other times, it is obvious.

Methodology -this is the “how” in the spell. What methods are there to casting spells and performing rituals? Look back at your types of magic pages and think hard on the ways you can cast spells for those different types of magic. Is there a certain way to prepare for spells and rituals? What steps do you take to prepare for the spell and what steps do you take after the spell or ritual? What steps are a part of the ritual? How do you actually perform the spell? Method of spellwork has everything to do with the “how” in the spell, where the purpose beforehand is the “why”.

Ingredients/ tools - this is the “what” within the spell. What ingredients if any does it require? What tools does it require? What kinds of things are a part of the spell? Incense, statues, gems and so on. What do you need to bring to the spell or ritual for it to be what it is?

Wednesday - location, direction, timing

Location and timing - this is the “where”and “when” within the spell or ritual. Is there a specific location you need to perform the spell or ritual? A specific direction you have to face? Do you have to wait for a certain day, week, month? A certain astrological sign or event, like a phase of the moon? Does the spell require you to face north or south? East or west? Or to go through all the directions? How does this information fit into your outline?

New page/ research - gemstone/ other- pick another gem or what have you from your list and research it! Everything from mundane to magical uses! How is it formed? Where is it from? So on and so forth.

Thursday - other parts of spells/ rituals

What other things are part of your spells or rituals? How do you make them yours? What personal touches and flares do you bring to your magic?

Friday - putting it to practice

Practical- if you’ve outlined the general idea of a spell and ritual, or even if you’ve made a specific one, let’s make one, and then do it! Perform the spell or ritual! And journal about it afterwards!

This has been a long and heavy week, but we made it!

Good Luck and Happy Crafting witches!

-Mod Hazel

[jjj-no-studio]

鐵皮印象/iron sheet

鐵皮, 一體兩面的呈現出臺灣社會的多元價值觀, 外國旅客眼中的新鮮特色,卻是國人眼中的景觀殺手, 鄉村的鐵皮屋、城鎮的頂樓加蓋、騎樓的鐵捲門、外推陽台的搭建,「鐵皮」都是你我熟悉的主角, 導水的用途, 影響了造型；快速的滿足需求, 導致大量的擴張, 滲透日常, 儼然已成為文化的一部分. 

Iron sheet, it shows multiple perspectives of Taiwanese society, a new feature to foreign travelers, but an unpleasant mark to local citizens. From metal houses in counties, rooftop add-on in cities, rolling steel doors on pedestrian arcades, to balcony constructions, “iron sheets” are familiar to us. Its drainage function made its appearances; meeting the demands this fast leads to huge expansion into our daily, being a part of culture.

盛行因素/Popular Reason

氣候條件/Climate conditions 臺灣地處熱帶及亞熱帶氣候區之交界，夏季炎熱漫長多雨； 海島地形，四面環海導致冷空氣受到海洋調和， 冬季相較鄰近區域溫暖， 鐵皮特性反映臺灣氣候條件。 Taiwan is on the common border of tropical and subtropical region, with the long, hot, and rainy summer; cold air is balanced by the surrounding sea, by comparison, winter is warmer then neighboring countries. The characteristic of iron sheets is the reflection of Taiwan’s climatic condition. 結構疏水/Drainability 傳統多採木構與磚石建築，直至民國六、七十年代， 鋼筋混泥土技術盛行，平屋頂的特性無法有效排水。 Traditionally, woods and bricks are often being used on constructing, not until 60’s and 70’s did the skills of reinforced concrete become very common, but flat roofs are not able to drain the water effectively. 工法容易/Simple techniques 鐵皮局部修補容易；建築時間快速、組裝、生產便利， 儼然成為現代草根性的庶民建築風貌。 Iron sheets are easily to fix, quick constructing time, easy to build and produce, becamethe modern common construction style. 時代流行/Popular by times 二戰後施工技術不佳及傳統建築所需工匠難尋， 以致簡便的鐵皮屋暢行崛起， 民間順應以頂樓加蓋的形式增設空間。 After World War II, by the poor techniques and the difficulties of finding traditional architects, simple metal houses had risen suddenly, people used the form of “rooftop add-on” to expand their space.

設計元素/Design Elements

在設計上取用鐵皮屋的三個元素為特點─鋼骨結構、鐵皮浪板和鐵皮釘. 鋼骨結構簡化為方管用於大型家具；而花瓶則以圓管表現小件作品的細緻.

The 3 elements which based on metal sheet houses are steel structure, corrugated sheets and iron nails. Steel structure will be simplify as square tubes use in large-scale furniture; vases will be perform as circular pipes to show the refinement of small-scale works.

浪板形狀的選擇/Shape selection of Corrugated Sheets

採用鐵皮文化中，最貼近大眾的圓浪板。相對於需要工程製作的烤漆浪板，俗稱「鉛板」的小圓浪板作為主要發展形式，在坊間建材行或五金行即可輕鬆購得，被普遍應用在修補壁面、屋頂局部缺漏或者搭建簡易農舍與房屋。適用於不同用途，衍伸出繁多的種類，包含屋頂壁面角浪板、屋簷遮雨的採光板。

Use the most common “circular corrugated sheet” in the culture of metal sheets. With respect to the painted corrugated sheet that needed engineering production, using the so called “lead plate” which is the circular corrugated sheet as the main develop, it can be bought in any building materials store or hardware store, it is commonly be used in repairing the walls, parts of the roofs or building simple houses or barns. It can be used in different ways and derive to varieties of things, including the polycarbonate sheet used on the roof and lighting panels.

機能隨形生/Form Follows Function 浪板用於建築通常是作為結構與疏水的功能，而我們則思考同樣的造型，當他縮小不再是建材時，會變成什麼。我們發現鐵皮的凹槽平放時可用於置物，以此為基礎，加上大的弧度則發展成盤子；而彎成U字型時，底部的造型則可以積水，便發展成花器。

Corrugated sheets are mostly used as structural and draining of buildings. We are thinking what will happen if the same mold using are minified not as a material anymore. We found out that the notch of the metal sheet can be used for putting things, based on this, if we enlarge it can become a plate; when bending it into “U” shape, the mold beneath it can stand water then became a vase.

層次/Multi-level

鐵皮在搭建時因為材料的關係，會出現一片疊一片的景象。在屏風上我們用兩種間距的浪板，並讓前後分隔一點距離，做出交疊的感覺。前面的浪板也呈現出建材長度需求的特性，分成兩片疊起���。 Because of the materials, when the corrugated sheets were built, the sheets will overlap with each other. On the screen we use two different spaces of corrugated sheets, to make their distance further and become overlapped. The sheets in the front also showed the characteristic of the material’s length, split into two.

半圓拱屋頂/Arched roof

半圓拱屋頂→橢圓椅子，拱形屋頂也是常見於鐵皮建築工法的方式，可以將負載的重力導引轉換，承受更大的受力，相較平頂式屋頂；鐵皮屋使用的弧形鋼構，反倒成為一種沉穩且優美的力學表現。

Half Arched Roof→Oval Chair is also common in the buildings of corrugated sheets, compared to a flat top roof, it can transfer the loaded gravity and supported larger forces; the arc steel which is used in corrugated roof, it actually became a steadier and more beautiful mechanics.

[redfilledfantasies]

Light Whispers (Single Story)

The bedroom was bathed in amber light, the evening sun filtering through half-drawn blinds that striped the walls like the methodical lines of an electrocardiogram.

Carmella's weight settled against Audrey's body, her ear pressed to the plane of Audrey's sternum, listening with the concentration of someone tuning an instrument. Beneath her, Audrey's chest expanded with a final, deep inhalation before growing still, the beginning of another carefully measured breath hold that had become part of their private ritual. "Timer?" Audrey whispered, her voice vibrating through her ribcage into Carmella's ear.

"Started," Carmella replied, her finger having already tapped the screen of her phone that lay discarded on the rumpled sheets beside them. She shifted slightly, adjusting her position to better capture the sounds emanating from within Audrey's chest cavity.

Outside, Manhattan continued its perpetual motion, but inside their Upper East Side apartment, time stretched and condensed around the seconds of Audrey's held breath. They had created this bubble of stillness weeks ago, shortly after the formal sessions at the Elite Performance Center had concluded for the day. What had begun as professional curiosity had transformed into something else entirely—something neither of them had anticipated when they'd first met at the Cardiac Performance Study.

Audrey's heartbeat began its telltale cadence, the rhythm Carmella had learned to recognize as distinctly hers. Unlike the standard sixty to eighty beats per minute of the average person, Audrey's resting heart rate hovered around fifty-two—the hallmark of an elite athlete. Now, fifteen seconds into the breath hold, it remained steady, unhurried, a metronome of exceptional control.

Carmella closed her eyes, cataloguing the sound. Professionally, she could identify the distinct stages: the first closure of the mitral valve, the opening snap of the aortic valve, the brief rush of blood from ventricle to aorta, and then the decisive thump of the second heart sound as the aortic valve closed again. But in this context, pressed against Audrey's warm skin, the scientific analysis melted into something more primitive—a recognition of life, of Audrey's particular existence beneath her.

Thirty seconds passed. Audrey remained motionless aside from the pulse that now traveled visibly beneath the skin of her neck. Her body temperature had risen slightly, a physiological response to the controlled oxygen deprivation. Carmella shifted her cheek against Audrey's sternum, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. "Forty-five seconds," Carmella murmured, though she knew Audrey tracked the time internally with practiced precision. The athleticism that had made Audrey valuable to the study also made her exquisitely aware of her body's limits and capabilities.

At the one-minute mark, Audrey's heart rate began to accelerate—not drastically, but enough for Carmella to detect the subtle quickening. This was where the ballet began, where Audrey's body commenced its careful choreography between maintaining control and signaling distress. The carbon dioxide would be building now, blood acidifying slightly, the silent cry for oxygen growing more insistent with each second.

Carmella's own breathing had deepened without her conscious intent, as if trying to compensate for Audrey's stillness. Her lungs expanded and contracted at a quickened pace, the opposite of Audrey's held breath. The juxtaposition created an unintended intimacy—Carmella breathing for both of them, her chest rising and falling against Audrey's hip.

The sound of Audrey's heart grew louder in Carmella's ear, a drum not of panic but of efficiency. Each beat now carried more blood, compensating for the oxygen deprivation with increased cardiac output. This was the adaptation they had studied together—the remarkable plasticity of the human heart under controlled stress. At a minute and twenty seconds, Carmella felt the first flicker of her own physiological response. A flush began at her neck, spreading downward as her parasympathetic nervous system reacted to the sustained proximity to Audrey's body. The sound of that powerful heart, the warmth of skin, the vulnerability of this controlled experiment outside the clinical setting—it all converged, sending blood rushing to unexpected places.

Carmella's nipples hardened against Audrey's side, and she resisted the impulse to shift away, to hide this unplanned reaction. Instead, she remained still, suddenly aware that her professional detachment had eroded entirely. She had crossed the invisible line between clinician and something undefined but unmistakably different. Audrey's hand, which had been resting passively on the small of Carmella's back, moved almost imperceptibly—a slight adjustment that might have been dismissed as a twitch if not for its deliberate path. Her fingers traced a slow line up Carmella's spine, each vertebra receiving a moment of feather-light attention before moving to the next.

The contradiction was exquisite: Audrey, seemingly passive in her breath hold, exerting such deliberate control with her fingertips. The touch was gentle but unmistakable, acknowledging Carmella's response not with words—impossible during the breath hold—but with this tactile conversation.

Carmella's pulse quickened, her breathing growing more ragged as Audrey's fingers traveled the landscape of her back. Despite the medical knowledge occupying her brain—the awareness of exactly what was happening to Audrey's blood oxygen levels, the precise strain on her cardiac muscle—Carmella found herself surrendering to sensation. The duality split her consciousness: the professional who monitored heart function coexisting with the woman responding to touch.

"Two minutes," she whispered, her voice rougher than she'd intended. Audrey's heart now beat at eighty beats per minute—still remarkably controlled for someone depriving their body of oxygen for this duration. The sound filled Carmella's ear like a confession. Audrey's hand moved from Carmella's back to her side, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin where ribs gave way to waist. The touch was questioning, offering rather than taking. Even in this position of apparent vulnerability, holding her breath while Carmella listened to her most vital organ, Audrey maintained a curious power—a confidence in her body's capabilities that extended to this unspoken negotiation between them.

Carmella answered by pressing closer, her body's movement serving as consent. The hardened peaks of her breasts now pressed more firmly against Audrey's ribcage, no longer something to hide but something to offer. The medical pretense that had initiated this contact thinned like tissue paper, revealing the true nature of their connection beneath.

At two minutes and fifteen seconds, Audrey's fingers traced a delicate path along Carmella's hip, drawing invisible patterns that seemed to spell out what her oxygen-deprived brain couldn't articulate. Her heartbeat had accelerated to ninety beats per minute, the sound in Carmella's ear now an urgent poetry. The clinical precision with which they had approached these sessions in the beginning had blurred into something raw and honest—something beyond the parameters of their study but no less fascinating in its manifestations.

Carmella's hand moved to rest on Audrey's abdomen, feeling the controlled tension there—the diaphragm held firm against the increasing desire to exhale. She spread her fingers wide, measuring the restrained power beneath that smooth plane of muscle. Her touch was both professional assessment and intimate appreciation, the line between the two no longer distinguishable.

"Two thirty," Carmella breathed, though she suspected Audrey no longer needed the external time check. They had reached the outer edge of their experimental boundaries, approaching the limit they had established for safety. Yet neither made a move to end it. Audrey's fingers continued their gentle exploration, tracing the curve where Carmella's waist flared to hip, then back up along her side, a whisper away from the swell of her breast. The touch was both question and statement, respecting boundaries while suggesting their permeability.

At two minutes and forty-five seconds, Audrey's heart rate reached one hundred beats per minute. The sound filled the room, louder than the distant hum of Manhattan traffic, louder than Carmella's increasingly ragged breathing. Time compressed around this moment of sustained intimacy—this shared experience of Audrey's controlled suffering and Carmella's uncontrolled response. And then, at precisely three minutes, Audrey exhaled.

The release was gradual, controlled even in surrender. Her diaphragm relaxed incrementally, allowing air to escape in a measured stream rather than an explosive release. The sound of it brushed past Carmella's ear like a confession, intimate and private. Audrey's chest rose and fell beneath Carmella's cheek, the regular rhythm of respiration returning as oxygen flooded back into oxygen-starved tissues.

Carmella remained still, listening as Audrey's heartbeat began its careful deceleration. The powerful muscle that had worked so diligently during the breath hold now settled, each beat spacing itself more generously from the one before. This, too, was part of what made Audrey exceptional—the rapidity with which her body recovered from stress, returning to homeostasis with an efficiency that had fascinated Carmella from their first meeting at the Cardiac Performance Study.

"Two fifty-eight," Carmella said, reciting the final time with scientific precision even as her body remained decidedly unscientific in its continued response to Audrey's touch.

"New record," Audrey replied, her voice slightly rough from the extended period without breath. Her hand hadn't stopped its gentle movement along Carmella's side, though now it was joined by her other hand, creating a symmetry of touch that framed Carmella's body.

Carmella should have moved then—should have sat up, recorded the data in their informal log, maintained some semblance of the professional boundary that had initially defined their relationship. Instead, she turned her face slightly, pressing her lips to the warm skin over Audrey's sternum where moments before her ear had captured the symphony of Audrey's straining heart. The kiss was brief but unmistakable—an acknowledgment of the transformation that had occurred between them. No longer merely doctor and subject, researcher and participant, but something uncharted and thrilling in its uncertainty.

Audrey's breathing deepened in response, her recovered respiratory system finding a new rhythm that matched the accelerating beat of her heart—no longer driven by oxygen deprivation but by a different kind of hunger. Her hands grew more deliberate in their exploration, moving with the confidence of someone who had mapped unknown territory and found it welcoming. "Your turn?" Audrey asked, the question containing layers of meaning beyond the simple alternation of their breath hold practice.

Carmella lifted her head, meeting Audrey's gaze for the first time since they had begun the session. Audrey's pupils were dilated, whether from the residual effects of the breath hold or from arousal, Carmella couldn't determine with certainty. Perhaps both—the line between their experimental practice and this evolving intimacy had blurred beyond recognition. "Not yet," Carmella replied, shifting upward so that their faces aligned. "I think we need to measure your recovery period first. Thoroughly."

Audrey smiled, a slow curve of lips that contained all the precision and control she had demonstrated in her breath hold. "That seems prudent. How long do you estimate that will take?"

Carmella lowered her mouth to Audrey's, hovering just above those lips that had held breath for nearly three minutes. "Hours," she whispered against them. "Days, perhaps. I believe we need a longitudinal study."

Their lips met as Audrey inhaled Carmella's words, drawing them into her newly reopened lungs. The kiss deepened with the same measured control that characterized their breath hold exercises—a careful exploration of limits and capacities, of pressure and release.

Beneath Carmella's palm, which had come to rest over Audrey's heart, she felt the steady acceleration of that exceptional muscle, no longer performing for science but for something far more ancient and profound.

Outside, Manhattan continued its relentless rhythm, but inside, in this amber-lit bedroom, Carmella and Audrey created their own cadence—a synchronized beating of hearts that had found a shared frequency beyond the parameters of any study they had designed.