#sometimes i need a line to be trailing a certain way or for a set of lines to form an angle

[softgrungeprophet]

i won't lie, there's been a certain level of both reassurance and self-consciousness in reading WIWV which is both that it makes me go, oh, maybe I don't need to think so hard or be so concerned about my placement of dialogue, or rather the way I tend to break it apart to go along with movement and so on and so forth -- and also that sometimes lately I do look at my WIPs and think about how fragmented into tiny paragraphs they are and how action-by-action, movement-by-movement they tend to be --

but of course, I'm not writing literary fiction, an I? 😂 I'm writing, essentially (whether fanfic or original) romance fiction and prose soap opera stuff eith some action, except for where some moments (mostly Kaine) veer vaguely upmarket haha

[eyeritestuff]

“I wish I had a mouth..”

Billy Kid x Reader

—X—

A/N: we need more billy kid fanfics. also, excuse grammar errors i’m struggling to get back into writing lalala

CW: mentions of NSFW, but i don’t go into explicit details :P

Reader: Gender Neutral [they/them]

—X—

Your boyfriend was clingy.

Very clingy… but so are you!

Being a human/humanoid being, it was hard enough in battle having the physical limitations you did, but when it came to your robotic boyfriend, it was scary to give or receive that physical love you both adored and craved so much. Luckily, Billy made sure to limit himself and be extra careful with you. His care is what made you value him that much more. For example, when Billy hugged you, he would snake his arms around your waist, and gently squeeze. There’s also the moments when he wants to hold your hand. Billy would make sure to gently tap the inside of your palm and wait with an open hand for you to reciprocate.

In bed, he was extra careful. Making sure to ask things along the lines of ‘Is everything okay?’, ‘Are you comfortable?’, and ‘Can I touch you here/there?’.

There of course were times, despite the cautions, you would move on instinct and hurt yourself. For example, you’d go for a hug, forget that he’s made metal, and hit your head. There was also times where you’d hold his hand and get pinched between his joints. The funniest of them all were the times where you’d kiss him and accidentally hit your forehead on his.

It’s just human to be clumsy.

He loved that about you.

Billy loved how humans and their bodies worked, and he often showed that fascination where he would do things like holding your hand out and examining it, only to hold his own up and examine the similar parts and pieces. You sometimes got worried about how he compared himself to you, but there’s nothing to worry about because it’s one of those innocent curiosities. He perfectly content with being a machine, but there are certain limitations in his design that make him grumpy. Limitations that were, unfortunately, made prevalent when you two started dating.

You didn’t realize this until one day you two cuddled up in his bed watching Starlight Knight together. Billy sat with his legs crossed, hunched over in shrimp position, and you sat in his lap, leaning back into his chest, and holding a large plushie replication of a Bangboo. He had a large blanket draped over him that he made sure to wrap it in a way so that you’d also be covered. Both sets of eyes glued were glued to the screen, and the scene that was on was one where one of the main characters had received a kiss from the space princess they had just saved from imminent doom.

“I wish I had a mouth..”

You positioned yourself enough to turn and look up at your boyfriend with a curious smile, only for it to drop when you realized his eyes animated downwards. Ohhh, you hated when Billy was sad.

“Wha..? Why?” You asked, placing a hand on the side of his face and stroking it gently with your thumb. A robotic sigh could be heard from him, and he paused the show.

“It’s a super embarrassing reason..” You giggled when you saw the blush lines light up on his face, knowing that at least he had some humor left in him.

“Well, Billy, having a mouth has never stopped you from being yourself..” You replied.

“Yes it has!” He whined, making you scoff. In your head, you were thinking he wanted one to show he was talking.. but oh, how wrong you were.

Leaning back, you grabbed his hand and started tracing over the intricate details of it, kissing it, and then going back to studying it. “Why would you want one?” You asked.

“.. I can feel everything.. The way you feel is.. Y/n, your lips.. I just wanna be able to experience that. It’s hard not being able to kiss you. Not just on your lips, but everywhere.. you’re so amazing and...” He trailed off, failing to express himself in the way he wanted to. He frustratedly sighed, slumping over, and his head on top of yours, “I just feel like I’m falling short when it comes to loving you properly.. I dunno, it’s hard to explain..”

Your heartstrings were cutting your circulation, to say the least. You got up and turned your whole body to face Billy, straddling him, and then placing both hands on his shoulders, you shook him back and forth.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!,” you started, screaming so loud it made him jolt and reply with a small scream of his own. You stopped and continued, “Billy, you’re perfect. Literally. Even without all the extra features, you are perfect to me. I don’t care about what you don’t have, I care about what you do have..” Your concerned face started to wash away, watching his eyes grow in shock. Replacing concern was a lovestruck.

“Y/n..” He mumbled, barely audible. You continued, though, wanting to know exactly how much you loved him.

“I love you. I really do. You care so much about me, down to the way you hold me. That attention to detail is so… it’s so endearing and honestly, a turn on in some instances,” you felt your face heat up, but you pressed on, “I wouldn’t change you for the world because your expression of love, physical and emotional, are one of the things that I love about you. Don’t think for a second that you need to change yourself for me. Ever.”

“… Really..?” Billy asked, his trembling like he was about to cry. You smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek and nodded, “Yes, really!”

Billy chuckled and sighed, “..Are you sure..?” You giggled, noticing he was joking. “Yes, I’m sure..”

“Soooo, what you’re saying is.. my fingers are enough fore—”was all Billy could manage before you pushed him down and started suffocating him with the Bangboo plushie. His voice was replaced by muffled laughs and struggling noises.

“ENOUGH OF YOU.” You said, burning red in the face. You let him go after a minute or two, and his childish laughs and giggles got louder.

“I had to ask..!” You huffed at his reply and turned away to pout. Billy sat back up and rested his hands onto your hips and his eyes smiled. “Imagine if I had a tongue..”

Turning back to look at him you gasped and started yanking his hair, making him yelp. “CAN WE NOT??! IM TRYING TO BE SENTIMENTAL!”

“Yank it harder,” Billy started to laugh, only making you give up and let go, “Y’know I like it rough, baby..~” He jokingly followed up. You snorted and cracked a smile at his fake sexy voice, and sighed nodding your head.

“Okay, okay.. for realsies this time, Y/n..?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.. it means the world to me.”

—X—

A/N: billy uses humor to cope during serious situations, that’s my HC yeah.. anyways, i didn’t proofread this :3

[chelseeebe]

all outta’ luck

18+. smut. exhusband!eddie, this is set sometime in the early 2000s but it’s mentioned once so who really cares

a/n: thank you anon for inspiring me to write another part to the exhusband!eddie series! this is a just a lil something to show that he doesn’t get his way all the time hehe. i’m so tired, please ignore any mistakes

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

the repetitive clanging sounds of the garage ring through eddie’s ears, murmured profanities and a chorus line of huffs fill the space. 

he can hear that fucking britney spears song echoing from the courtyard, his colleagues choice of music made him passively suicidal. 

something’s afoot, emmanuel stops tinkering to gaze over the car out into the parking lot, glancing at eddie quietly before the rest of the guys clock on. 

“oooooh,” they ring out, “someone’s in trouble,” mocking as they stop working to stare gormless at him. 

eddie’s stands, noticing your dinged up old ford straight away, searching for the missing accompaniment of your furious face alongside it. 

“yeah, nice one boys,” he hits back, his feet scuffing the gravel as he comes around the car. 

there you are, with your hands on your hips, exchanging niceties with robert before latching your eyes onto him. 

you were here for one of two reasons, either you needed something, meaning he would get his dick wet, or eddie had done something wrong, he’d probably still get his dick wet. 

it’s difficult to hide his excitement when you’ve essentially pavlov’d him into getting hard every time he sees you. 

“can we talk?” full of scorn, causing robert to back away, rightfully so too. 

“about?” rolling his eyes at his gawking friends before slipping out of the garage, away from their prying eyes. 

“what’d you give oscar this for?” retrieving the twenty dollar bill from your bra to hold in his face. wilfully ignoring the perverse whistles in the background. 

eddie stares at the twenty, wiping his hands with the oily rag, “he said he wanted some video game so i gave it to him,” shrugging because really, what other answer could he give?

“i already told him he couldn’t have it,” your brows knitted together, “i wish you’d check with me first before just doing shit,” sliding the note back into your bra, another round of whistling begins behind him. not to mention that was his twenty. 

eddie’s dumbfounded completely, absolutely certain that you’d only made the drive up here to piss him off, “so? i can’t give my son money anymore?” 

you tut, “i didn’t say that,” blinking rapidly, he knows you’re trying to contain yoursel, “i just want you to ask me before you tell him he can have something.” 

you’re surely not serious. this must be a ploy to get him pent up so you can drag him away from work, it must be. 

“i’m his dad,” getting louder, making sure that anyone eavesdropping could clearly hear this pathetic argument, “you remember that? if he wants the game, he can have the game.”

your eyes trail from his to the gallery of blinking eyes behind him, “can we do this somewhere else?” 

there it is. 

your plan unfolding right in front of his eyes. 

eddie exhales, playing into the little act you so desperately wanted, tossing his rag to the floor, “i’m taking lunch now,” announcing his plans to the entire audience, stomping from the garage to your terribly parked car. 

they’d all be talking about you no doubt, hushed whispers about eddie being weak or a pushover, whatever. if they only knew what was really about to go down, they’d have far worse to say. 

he gets in without ever looking back at them all, concealing his smirk rather unsuccessfully, “happy now?” he remarks snidely. 

you shift the car into drive, looking straight ahead, “very,” wheels crunching over the gravel as you pull off, smug as you drive. 

“you don’t have to do all this shit every time, you know? i would’a just gone with you anyway,” tapping his fingers along the leather interior, waiting for his mark to touch you. he’s sure it’d come, just as soon as you were away from the crowd. 

“but it’s more fun this way,” turning off to your usual desolate spot, hidden away from passing cars or peeping people. 

his hand braces your knee first, watching your face for permission to move upward, which he does with glee, slipping underneath your skirt, “no panties?” hardly surprised by the lack of fabric. 

you park, somewhere deep in the bushes, “mhm,” nodding as your legs clamp shut around his wrist, trapping his arm in the most precarious position. “you like it?” 

eddie nods, his breaths growing erratic, “fuck yeah i do,” attempting to grab a little fistful of your skin but your hold around his arm only gets tighter. 

“thought you would,” humming softly, removing his hand from your thigh to slide over the console and onto his lap, receiving a short grunt of approval. 

eddie’s practically salivating, coming to wrap his arms tight around your waist, anticipating the next best three minutes of his life. “holy fuck,” shuddering into the disappearing space between your faces as your cunt moves against his crotch, no doubt darkening the fabric with your slick. 

somethings wrong, something must be wrong.

he’d never get off with this so easily, he’s waiting for the bait and switch, for whatever punishment he must endure to come crashing over him. 

your hands snake around his neck, taking a strong fistful of his hair to tug backwards, “you wanna fuck me? hmm? d’you wanna cum?” that stupid pornstar voice you put on sometimes, low and raspy, almost making him blow his fucking load right now. 

“yes.. please,” his hips thrusting upwards for just a hint of relief, “god- fuck, please,” clawing at your skin, he’s never felt so desperate in all his life. 

you grind down against his cock, pulling a filthy mewl from his whiny throat, “what’re you gonna do to me? huh?” 

oh god. 

he can’t even think, only do. so pathetically desperate to fuck up into you a couple of times before cumming everywhere. 

“i’m gonna.. i need to feel you,” eddie mewls, grinding back against your cunt, the only thing separating the two of you were his stained work pants and his boxers that suddenly felt very sticky. 

your hips begin to bounce, his clothed cock nudging against your bare pussy with every frantic rut of your hips. “oh my god,” you cry, using his crotch to get yourself off more than anything, the denim brushing your clit just right. 

“fuck sweetheart, please fuck me,” rutting frantically upwards, latching onto your bottom lip and the skin around it. 

there’s not much longer of this he can take before he inevitably cums in his pants. you were moving too erratically, whining into his mouth in tandem with your clit catching against the tip of his erection. 

“mmhm,” barely audible over the creaking of his seat, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“so much.. like, now baby,” grasping at your shirt, kneading the fabric through his fingers in a bid to get you to just move a little. 

“too bad,” stilling your movements completely, gazing into his eyes, an gleam of utter villainous intent behind your otherwise glossy eyes. 

sick. you must be sick in the head. 

“nononono please, baby please what’re you doing?” desperation dripping from his tongue, his grabby hands urgently trying to keep you on his lap. 

“nuhuh,” pinching his cheek, cruel and mocking with your smirk, “you don’t get to fuck me today,” climbing back over to the drivers seat, pulling your skirt back to a respectable length and running a quick hand through your wild hair. 

“what?” eddie exclaims, hands falling limp against his burning thighs, “what’s wrong with you?” you were psychotic, utterly depraved and sick in the head. 

eddie wants to cry, the tears pricking in his eyes at the longing ache still lingering in his cock, a cruel and unusual punishment for a damned video game. 

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?” turning to him, mouth hung open in shock, “you don’t listen to me, ever. why the fuck would i let you fuck me?” 

you were serious about this. genuinely pissed off over some money he could hardly remember giving.

fuck this.

eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated and ridiculously horny, a terrible combination when he was expected back at work any minute now. “it’s twenty bucks,” he sighs, “i’m sorry i didn’t ask you, i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry, can you please get back over here and let me make it up to you?” in complete despair, the man had never had to plead so hard just to touch you. 

your tongue peaks out, wetting your bottom lip, as if you were really contemplating this, “no,” before turning the ignition back on, so smug and so sure you were in the right. 

hell, maybe you were. 

but he’d learned his lesson now, he was ready to repent and make amends. 

“oh my god,” eddie huffs, pulling at the bunched up fabric of his pants in an effort to conceal his still very much raging boner. “you’re gonna make me go back in there like this?” they’d never let him live this down, no doubt about it. 

you hum with a sickening sense of satisfaction, “yeah, i am actually,” glancing down at his crotch, “maybe when you’ve learnt your lesson i’ll let you make it up to me,” turning down that gut-wrenchingly familiar road to the garage, knowing you were really serious about this, relishing in his pain. 

they’re all waiting when you pull back in, a gaggle of beady eyed freaks line the garage, just waiting for their moment to start the attack. 

eddie scoffs one final time, “you’re a sick fuck, you know that?” 

“goodbye eddie,” shooing him off, your lips twitching in excitement. 

they whoop excruciatingly loud when eddie closes the door, the scarlet hue to his cheeks and the unruly nest of hair on his head giving everything away. 

“what’s the matter? you can’t get her off anymore?” james screeches, far too old to be hazing him like some teenager. 

“tell her if she needs a real man, i’ll be right here for her,” emmanuel pipes up, clutching onto his heart. like you’d ever go for a man who was balding at 28. pfft. 

“that’s my fuckin’ wife, you degenerates,” eddie spits, watching intently as you back out of the parking lot, the boys ogling as you go. 

“not anymore,” their laughter roars through the echoing garage, reminding him that despite the ring still wrapped around his fourth finger, you weren’t married anymore. 

[inky-duchess]

Writing Theory: Dialogue

One question, I often get asked on this blog concerns dialogue and how to write it. Dialogue is the characters speaking to one another or even to themselves and while it sounds easy, it can be difficult to chose what your character might say or how they might say it or even how it might present on the page/word doc/napkin you're writing it on.

Content: The What and Why

What is your character actually saying? Your character is in a situation (which hopefully you put them in or at least know what is going on, if you do not, it is OK). But in most situations, most characters interact in some way, whether it is verbal or not. What your character says has to link to the situation in some way. Picture yourself on a bus sitting next to a friend and you have just seen a dog out of the window. What would be the response or the natural line of conversation here? Probably 'Oh, that dog is cute.' or 'This journey is taking forever.' etc. It unlikely would be a long monologue about a character's deepest darkest secrets or an admission of murder. It is unlikely, but of course not impossible. But generally, one usually tries to keep the conversation to the present and the now. Allow your character to get their point, or even part of it, across to who they talking about clearly. Remember not only does their companion need to know what is being said, but as do your readers.

Why is this person saying this? There is a deeper level to what anybody says and we all know this. A person will generally keep to neutral phrases or topics in order to keep the peace, distance themselves from whoever they are having the conversation with or a person will be curt and short with somebody they are not getting along with or a person will be polite and formal to somebody who demands the respect. There is a reason behind word choice, a reason behind tone and even topic. You won't have to delve into the intricacies of the 'hello' or 'hey' types of dialogue but say if a character was in a situation they must or do chose their words carefully, then you have to consider the why of it as you write the conversation.

Characteristics of Speech

Characters don't talk like they are reading from an instruction manual. Personality, experience and other factors effect how your character might speak. Next time you are in a group setting, focus on how the people around you speak, whether its the sentence structure, the tone, the volume or the flow of their words. No character speaks the same as another, and nor should they. I go further into this in this post here. Now you have established your character's voice as it pertains to personality, now consider the actual voice of your character. How would you describe your character's voice? Even if you don't include a description of it in your narrative, you should have some idea of how your character speaks. Some people have gravelly voices, high pitched voices, clear, garbled, etc. You can of course, fan cast a voice if you wish. The way your character speak can give away things about them as people. Contractions, slang and colloquial phrases are often used to denote those of working class or poorer factions whether the lack of them, including a larger vocabulary, are often attributed to a wealthier, more educated class. You can say a lot about somebody by the way they speak and is an important tool in the entire show don't tell deal. Speaking of...

Showing, Not Telling when Your Character is Yapping

People don't often come out with what they really want to say. Thankfully or else I would be unemployed and in jail.

Concealment: Like I said before, characters will sometimes chose words or specific tones when speaking or breaking off at certain points to conceal what they are thinking. The dialogue might look something similar to using different approaches either with a character trailing off before the offending phrase (...) or catching themselves (-) or hesitating/considering their words/pausing before speaking. It doesn't often mean a character is being evasive, they may be avoiding harming somebody's feelings.

Class/Social rank: Like I said above, the way somebody speaks can be an indication of their status in society. This is not a bad thing, we have different ways of speaking because we come from different walks of life, we have totally different experiences. Writing the character's voice with this in mind can indicate your character's background.

Nationality/Culture: As in the real world, we don't all speak the same language, it makes us who we are and marks out our culture and place in the world. Phrases, sayings and specific words or even pauses to consider the wording or sentence structure can denote a character from having a different mother tongue or culture than those around them. Your character may sometimes have to tailor what they say to somebody of a different culture or nationality even if they speak the same language. For example, if I'm writing a post here or in my WIP, I often have to steer clear of slang, sentence structure. grammar structure and phrases that non-Irish people are not familiar with.

Emotion: Emotion and dialogue walk hand in hand, a character will not speak without some emotion behind it and most emotions make us want to say something. Anger will make our words sharper, harsher, more abrupt. Happiness will make words flow faster, more positive and sometimes even jumbled. Grief will make one sound disconnected, numb and unable to think straight. The way your characters speak can tell your reader and the rest of the cast able to read their emotional state even if they cannot see their face or your helpful dialogue tags.

Sensibilities and Personality: Word choice and avoidance of certain words can tell somebody a lot about the person speaking. Somebody who avoids cursing or using 'vulgar' language might be considered proper, mannerly and formal. Somebody who does might be judged. Somebody who avoids topics that are considered taboo is somebody who aligns to social norms and expectations while somebody who tends to venture into incendiary topics is likely not and more free willed. These are not bad things but it can tell you a lot about the person speaking or in the way that person responds to somebody's words.

On Dialogue Tags and the Controversy of 'Said'

(nobody would ever fucking say that)

I don't buy into this drama over dialogue tags. Some writers will denounce them, some swear by them and they have been arguing over this as often as we do about the Oxford Comma. The real truth is that it is up to you. It is not a cardinal sin to use them and there is nothing - NOTHING - wrong with using the word said. There are of course some dialogue tags I personally hate and some I love but there is nothing wrong with the word 'said' or 'says'. Here are a few commonly used tags.

A

Accused: Used to pin the blame on somebody.

Added: Usually used when the character is adding to something they or somebody else has said.

Agonized: When a character is distressed over something.

Agreed: Used when a character allows something or agrees with something that is said.

Acknowledged: Used when giving voice to a fact.

Announced: Used for a statement.

Asked: Posing a question

Answered: To address a question.

Addressed: When a character draws attention to something or draws the attention of somebody.

Affirmed: Used when a character is stating an opinion or fact.

Apologized: When a character is saying sorry for something.

Approved: When a character is giving their support to a fact or something somebody has said.

Articulated: When a character expresses a thought/idea.

Asserted: When a character affirms an opinion firmly.

Advertised: Used when a character is drawing attention to something.

B

Babbled: Used when a character is talking excitedly, often nonsensically.

Backtracked: Used when a character is going back on something they have said.

Badgered: Used when a character is nagging another.

Bawled: Used when a character is crying out, usually wildly and very loudly.

Bellowed: When a character is shouting.

Began: When a character begins a sentence or thought.

Bemoaned: When a character complains of something.

Bit: Used when a character is being sharp with something that is irritating them or angering them.

Blamed: Used when a character is assigning blame for something.

Bleated: When a character is complaining or moaning, usually used in a derogatory way.

Blurted: When a character says something without pause or thought.

Boasted: When a character displays self-pride.

Boomed: When a character speaks loudly.

Broadcasted: Used when a character is announcing something, usually loudly.

C

Called: When a character cries out for somebody.

Chanted: When a character speaks in a monotone or often repeating words over and over.

Chattered: When a character speaks rapidly, usually out of nerves or excitement.

Chastised: When a character rebukes another character.

Cheered: Used when a character is excited or pleased about something.

Chimed: When a character adds something to something already said.

Choked: Used when a character is having a difficult time getting the words out.

Chuckled: When a character laughs slightly.

Chortled: When a character laughs slightly and breathlessly.

Coughed: When a character’s breath catches.

Croaked: Used when a character’s voice is strained or dry.

Crowed: When a character boasts loudly about something.

Cried: When a character exclaims or weeps.

Cursed: When a character use swear words or denounces another character.

Cautioned: Used when a character warns somebody.

Complimented: Used when a character is lavishing praise on somebody.

Condemned: When a character denounces something.

Considered: Used when a character is thinking aloud.

Conferred: When a character discusses something with another, usually quiet.

Commented: Used when a character is expressing a thought or opinion.

Complained: Used when a character is annoyed over something.

Criticized: When a character comments negatively on something.

D

Declared: When a character announces something.

Denoted: When a character is indicating something.

Dictated: When a character is insisting on something, usually forcefully.

Drawled: When a character is talking in a low, slow voice.

Droned: When a character is talking on and on, usually derogatory.

E

Elaborated: When a character goes into detail explaining something.

Emitted: Used when a character makes a sound.

Enunciated: Used when a character makes their words clear, often to add emphasis.

Expressed: When a character conveys their thoughts and opinions on something.

F

Fumed: Usually when a character is angry over something.

Fretted: When a character is anxious, usually a reputation of intrusive thoughts.

G

Gasped: When a character inhales suddenly, usually in shock or pain.

Giggled: Used when a character laughing.

Gloated: When a character is boasting over besting another character.

Grinned: When a character is smiling widely when speaking.

Groaned: When a character makes a low sound, usually in pain or discomfort.

Growled: Used when conveying anger.

Grumbled: Used when a character is complaining but in a quiet, low way.

Gulped: When a character swallows.

Gushed: Used when a character is talking excitedly about something they care about.

H

Hissed: Used when a character is angry or irritated.

Howled: Used when a character is making a loud, drawn-out sound noise out of pain and grief.

I

Insisted: When a character speaks or lends their support persistently.

Interjected: When a character adds something into somebody else’s discussion.

Insulted: To speak negatively about another character.

J

Jabbered: Used when a character isn’t making sense but talking rapidly.

Joked: Used when a character is making a jest or fun of something.

L

Lamented: When a character expresses a deep thought or grief over something.

Laughed: Used when a character is laughing.

M

Mewled: When a character’s voice is talking in a feeble voice.

Mentioned: When a character interjects something but doesn’t explain it.

Mocked: Used when a character is teasing, either in humour or spite.

Moaned: Used when a character is complaining, in pain or discomfort.

Mumbled: When a character is speaking in a low, almost unintelligible voice.

Muttered: When a character speaks quietly, usually in an effort to not be overheard.

Murmured: When a character talks quietly, usually not to be overheard or to not gain attention.

N

Noted: When a character brings attention to something.

Nattered: When a character goes on about something almost absent-mindedly, usually when nervous or preoccupied.

O

Observed: When a character is offering their view on something.

Ordered: When a character is giving instruction to another, usually forcefully.

P

Panted: Used when a character is out of breath or panicked.

Praised: When a character is showing positive attention to something or somebody.

Prattled: When a character is talking about something without a line of thought or sometimes reason or attention.

Persisted: When a character keeps at a thought or opinion.

Q

Quavered: When a character’s voice warbles usually out of fear or anxiety or sadness.

Quipped: When a character makes a witty remark.

R

Raged: Used when a character is angry.

Ranted: When a character goes on about something, usually in a monologue expressing their emotion about the subject.

Rambled: Used when a character is talking about something that doesn’t matter or warrant attention.

Relayed: Used when a character is telling another character about something that happened previously.

Remarked: Used when a character speaks about something.

Replied: When a character answers back.

Reprimanded: Used when a character is rebuking another for an action or word.

Responded: When a character replies to something said.

Recited: When a character repeats something from memory.

Repeated: When a character says something again, usually right after they have said it.

Retorted: When a character replies tartly or sharply.

S

Sang: Used when a character is happy or light about something.

Scolded: When somebody is reprimanding a character.

Screamed: Used when a character is scared or angry.

Squalled: When a character is crying out loudly.

Smiled: When somebody speaks when they are smiling, usually positively but can be negative.

Smirked: Used when a character is being smug.

Sneered: When a character is speaking in a derogatory way.

Snarled: Used when a character is being aggressive or angry.

Snivelled: When a character is speaking through a runny nose or tears. It is usually used to denote a character as weak or vulnerable.

Sniffled: When a character is speaking with a runny nose and tears.

Shouted: When a character is saying something loudly or with extreme emotional.

Shrieked: When a character makes a sharp sound, usually from extreme emotion.

Stammered: When a character’s voice becomes halted with pauses, usually an indicator of a speech impediment or nerves or anxiety or fear.

Stated: When a character makes a statement.

Stuttered: When a character speaks with difficulty, often repeating the beginning of words, usually out of fear, anxiety or nerves. But it can also be attributed to a speech impediment.

Swore: When a character curses or uses vulgar words to express their anger.

Scoffed: Used when a character is being derisive about something.

Sighed: When a character exhales out of annoyance, anger, tiredness or boredom.

Screeched: When a character’s voice becomes high-pitched and erratic.

Spat: When a character speaks so forcefully that they almost spit saliva in their effort to get their often emotion driven words out.

Sputtered: Used when a character is unable to get the words out, usually out of disbelief.

Sobbed: When a character is crying so hard that their voice is garbled by their tears and gasps for breath.

Suggested: When a character proposes an idea.

T

Thundered: When a character is talking about something in an angry way, usually loudly.

Told: When your character is relaying something to another.

Tittered: Used when a character is half-laughing, half-trying to stifle it.

Thanked: When a character expresses thanks.

Trumpeted: Used when a character is excitedly announcing something.

U

Uttered: When a character speaks.

Urged: Used when a character is prompting another to take an action.

V

Voiced: When a character expresses their opinion verbally.

Vociferated: When a character argues vehemently.

W

Wailed: When a character makes a sound of grief, pain or discomfort.

Warbled: used when a character’s voice quavers.

Wept: When a character cries when speaking.

Whispered: Used when a character speaks quietly, so not to be overheard.

Whimpered: Used when a character’s voice is feeble and weak, usually in pain or fear

Wheezed: When a character’s voice is strained from lack of breath, such as after a coughing fit.

Whined: When a character complains usually in an irritating way.

Y

Yammered: When a character is talking about something with no line of thought.

Yelped: When a character cries out in shock, pain or discomfort.

Yawned: Used when a character is tired or bored.

Yelled: When a character speaks loudly out of anger or panic.

Yowled: When a character cries out, usually high-pitchedly.

Overusing dialogue tags can sometimes take a reader out of the narrative and make your scenes read more like plays. I generally follow the rule of 'if it not essential' it is out the window. You can simply write dialogue in speech quotes and nobody will stop you.

What's in a Voice?

While we have already gone through the personal sound of your character's voice, what does it actually sound like when they are speaking? When describing the voice of your character while they speak, allows the reader to hear what they can only read and offer a clue how the character is feeling in the moment.

Absent-mindedly: When a voice betrays one’s distraction

Booming: When a voice is loud and carrying.

Breathy: When a voice is peppered with breathes.

Brittle: When a voice betrays a strained mind or fragile sense of mind.

Clear: When a voice is devoid of anything to obstruct or conceal it.

Deep: When a voice is low pitched.

Flat: When a voice is devoid of pitch or emotion.

Gravelly: When a voice is rough, croaking like when one just wakes up.

Guttural: When a voice is rough, coming from the back of the throat.

Harsh: When a voice is unkind and hard.

Husky: When a voice is rough.

Monotonous: When a voice is unvaried in pitch, all in one tone of voice.

Muffled: When a voice is obstructed, such as when the mouth is covered.

Nasally: When a voice sounds like it is coming from the nose, often sharp.

Piping: When a voice is high-pitched, almost sing-song.

Raspy: When a voice is dry and rough sounding.

Rich: When a voice is pleasant sounding to the ear.

Shrill: When a voice is high-pitched.

Silvery: When a voice is clear, soft, and musical.

Soft: When a voice is quiet.

Sonorous: When a voice is deep in sound.

Thin: When a voice is strained, with uneven pitch and tone.

Throaty: When a voice comes from the throat, often rough and croaky.

Tremulous: When a voice is shaking.

Velvety: When a voice is smooth.

Warm: When a voice is comforting, gentle.

Weak: When a voice lacks any strength.

Whispery: When a voice is low, hushed.

Wobbly: When a voice is unsteady.

Avoid the monologues if you can

Nobody can really have a conversation with somebody when that person is rattling off about themselves or their dastardly plans etc. It's not really realistic but in fiction, we kind of want to allow characters to do on a little, to let loose and bare their soul in a speech worthy of Peter Dinklage's best work (Laws of Gods and Men, GoT Season 4). Personally I only give somebody monologuing a few minutes before I interrupt with the good old "that's crazy" or multiple "yeah"s. A character has to be captivated - or captive - to listen to somebody keep talking, talking, talking.

Interaction

Again, your characters are meant to be real people, they are not robots on stage. When people are talking, it isn't perfect. When emotions are high, people will often cut across one another or interrupt one another. When characters are excited or in agreement, they might finish one another's sentences. The dialogue in The Bear, is fantastic for this as the interactions feel real. The characters interrupt one another, talk over one another and finish each other's thoughts. People follow a pattern of talking with people they know, they are less guarded and more prone to speaking their mind if they are comfortable with them or know what to avoid saying. People are more formal when speaking to strangers. People will speak differently to different people, there are things you can only say to your sibling and you wouldn't talk to a classmate you barely know the same way you will speak with a dear friend. The way character's interact can tell the reader a lot about the relationship between the characters.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hi there!

Do you have any recommendations for games with mechanical depth that aren't focused on combat?

From my experience I'm thinking of primarily Burning Wheel, as well as Chuubo's. There's something just so compelling about presenting players with strong mechanical incentives and systems to master - while also being able to create narratives that don't need to center on fighting.

THEME: Non-Combat Mechanical Depth

Hello there! Mechanical depth is a tricky thing for me sometimes, especially when I'm reading about a game based on blogs or store descriptions. I think that much of the games I list here will be games I've talked about before, and while I personally think these games are complex, you might disagree! One through-line that I found in many of these games is that when you're not focusing on combat, the next most popular way to play with complex relationships.

The World of Darkness, by White Wolf / Onyx Path.

World of Darkness games can be about a lot of things; redemption, survival, violence, a search for belonging… but one thing that's pretty consistent across each of the various settings is the complex politics that bind the supernatural societies together.

This isn't to say that there isn't combat in World of Darkness. However, since the games are rooted in horror, fighting isn't wise; much better to make a deal, craft a complex ritual, or convince someone else to stab your problem in the back. The complex factions and warring beliefs of the World of Darkness can foment nefarious plots, strained relationships, and power vacuums that have made this setting a fantastic resource for LARPS, forum roleplay, and so much more.

If you want a system mastery that also requires a strong knowledge of the core setting, you might have a real hoot with the World of Darkness.

Gumshoe Games, by Pelgrane Press.

Gumshoe games are focused on investigation more than anything else, with a very specific and unique mentality around mysteries. The core of a Gumshoe game is the belief that players do not need to roll in order to get access to the clues they will need to solve the mystery. However, the completeness of the clues, extra context, and the goals provided that your characters might want to achieve once they solve the mystery, are all still up for debate. This is where your abilities come in.

Abilities in Gumshoe act as two things: ratings and pools. Ratings represent your standard ability in various skills. Pools are points that can be spent to temporarily increase a rating, which is what you'll likely need to do in order to meet the difficulty number assigned to any specific activity.

As a result, the complexity in Gumshoe lies in resource management; determining which actions are worth spending resources, and which actions you are comfortable choosing to fail. There might also be a layer of strategy in the assembly of clues; an astute group might be able to assemble a more complete picture of whats going on, as well as perhaps the motivations of the parties involved, and potential avenues to solve the problem to avoid certain complications.

There's a lot of GUMSHOE games out there; some include Nights Black Agents (spies vs. vampires), Trail of Cthulhu (Eldritch Horror), Ashen Stars (investigations in space!) and Bubblegumshoe (teenage detectives).

Good Society, by Storybrewers Roleplaying.

Welcome to Good Society, the Jane Austen roleplaying game. Play out your very own regency drama of balls, estates, passions and desires.

Good Society has plenty of layers, with chapters, tokens, reputation, scandal, letter-writing, conflict and upkeep. I don't know if it's technically crunchy in terms of math, but the relationships and the way you interact with society looks a little complex, at least from the outside looking in. As a player, you'll be responsible for both a main character as well as side-characters, resulting in an expansive cast that encourages players to be involved in scenes even when their own main character isn't involved.

Playing a game of Good Society asks your character to be strategic in actions not to preserve hit points, but rather to preserve reputation - both their own, and that of their family or loved ones. Can you still get what you want while preserving your reputation? What sacrifices might you have to make for love? Play Good Society to find out.

Phoenix Wright TTRPG, by Rezzy.

FAN CREATION Based on the Phoenix Wright franchise. The players are divided into prosecution and defense parties, and then each performs its own DM led investigation of a crime scene. After both parties have finished their investigation, everyone is brought back together for a trial to determine the verdict.

If you love sorting out numbers, mods and stats to build a character, you'll probably like the Phoenix Wright TTRPG.

This is a bit of a rough game; the author of it hasn't really done an editing pass recently, but if you want complexity, it has it in spades. You have encounters, but since the entire goal of the game is to solve mysteries and defend your clients in court, combat is the very last thing you want to resort to. You'll be using your abilities to collect evidence, talk to witnesses, deduct motives, and search your personal knowledge in order to find the real culprit.

Hillfolk, by Pelgrane Press.

In the shadow of empires, an epic saga of ambition and desire!

In an arid badlands, the hill people hunger. Your neighbors have grain, cattle, gold. You have horses and spears, courage and ambition. Together with those you love and hate, you will remake history—or die.

With the Hillfolk roleplaying game, you and your group weave an epic, ongoing saga of high-stakes interpersonal conflict that grows richer with every session. Its DramaSystem rules engine takes the basic structure of interpersonal conflict underlying fiction, movies and television and brings it to the world of roleplaying. This simple framework brings your creativity to the fore and keep a surprising, emotionally compelling narrative constantly on the move.

As you build your story, you mold and shape the Hillfolk setting to fit its needs. Do you entangle yourself with the seductions of your wealthy cousins to the north? Do you do battle with the fearsome sea people to the west? Or do you conquer the scattered badlands tribes to forge a new empire of your own?

The DramaSystem of Hillfolk is all about relationships and emotional need; the need for approval, reassurance, respect, reassurance, as well the need to punish, to force subservience upon others, and the desire for power. Relationships are the avenues by which you fulfill these needs.

Character creation for this game feels rather simple, but the way you navigate the game feels like it might still be complex. Each scene in the game is carefully constructed, fleshed out with complications, set pieces, and goals. What you can do in these scenes is also fleshed out: you can rush a scene, call for a time jump, negotiate your inclusion in a scene, and compete for the right to describe what's going on. The themes of negotiation and competition force you to evaluate where exactly you'll want to invest the resources available to you, usually taking the form of a pile of tokens. If you love the interpersonal strategy behind social games, you might like Hillfolk.

The Shadows Beneath, by Rob Justice.

"The Shadows Beneath" is a tabletop role-playing game where players take on the roles of Anglers, fishing in eerie New England waters. The game emphasizes exploration, player-driven narratives, and confronting eldritch horrors. Players must balance the allure of knowledge with the ever-present threat of awakening ancient, terrifying forces. The game features mechanics for handling social, mental, and physical challenges and incorporates a unique Certainty system, where players must manage their character's grasp on reality as they encounter the game's terrifying elements.

The Shadows Beneath is not a long game, but I think it's interesting that it takes elements often considered hallmarks of combat games and re-tools them for fishing. You're always rolling to defeat a Target Number, which is typically a multiple of 5. Anglers will wrestle with the environment, NPCs, other Anglers, and, of course, fish. The game has a Catch Chart that the group will need to reference every time you try to catch a fish.

Some pieces that you'll have to wrestle with as you play include your relationship to other anglers, the traits that you have your strengths in, the reason you're out here fishing, and a track called Certainty; your ability to keep your grasp on reality. Certainty can have a big impact on your character's journey; lose all of it and you start taking Dark Traits, which give you sinister abilities that encourage you to do terrible things.

You also can learn to cast rituals, which require you to sacrifice a part of yourself in the process, deal with Marks, which is wounds and terrible consequences, and upgrade your boat, the most important resource you depend on out on these hostile waters.

Nibiru, by Araukana Media.

Remember Your Past. Secure Your Future

Welcome to Nibiru: A massive space station, home to millions, where stories of drama and struggle are written on a daily basis. Play as the Vagabonds; vagrant souls who wake up in the station without memories of their past. Piece back together their story as you travel through the strange vistas of a skyless world, where nature and artificiality merge into one and where memory and identity shape everything.

I think Nibiru, from a basic understanding of the game, looks less crunchy in comparison to other games, since the basic premise of the game is that you fill the character sheet as you play. However, the gradual way in which you flesh out your character (and their backstory) allows for layers of complexity, as you can learn various mechanics the longer you play.

Advancement in Nibiru happens when you fill out pieces of your character's backstory; with positive memories costing you experience, and negative memories giving you experience. Positive memories give you bonuses to various actions, while negative ones give you a negative modifier. There's also special rules associated with the habitat your character is connected to: Dreadlands characters can use negative memories to exert control over the world, while Brighttown folks can get large amounts of experience from special objects, but are also bound to those objects and must constantly seek them out. The restrictions placed upon you according to your character type constrict you in an interesting way, and I think they fuel really creative play.

Ryuutama, by Kotohi.

Ryuutama calls itself a “Natural Fantasy RPG”. It is a fantasy role-playing game set in a western medieval-style setting. The conceit of this setting is that at one point, in everyone’s lives, people get this intense feeling of wanderlust. They put their daily lives on hold and travel the world with new-found companions. They find out more about the world, and at the same time learn about themselves.

Ryuutama emphasizes travel, exploration, community, friendship, harmony and growth. There is also a “Console RPG-like” combat system: But while combat certainly happens, it’s not the central focus of the game. Adventures usually involve traveling from one town to another, packing gear, crafting items, cooking and sharing along the way; getting lost, meeting people and (sometimes cute) monsters along the way; braving the elements and trying to set camp properly.

If you're a fan of traditional JRPGs, you'll likely find something to love here. There are multiple sub-systems that you'll have to maintain to support your party as they explore a world full of dragons, especially regarding inventory. You need to think about weight, carrying capacity, expiry date, and perhaps even price. This might direct your choices in regards to how far you travel before turning around, whether or not you buy a pack animal, or boosting your ability to navigate properly.

Ryuutama isn't combat free, but I think the focus and complexity of the game is meant to make it so that if you do get into a fight, you can resolve it fairly easily; but the rules and mini-games regarding magic, inventory and travel make it fairly clear that the real story this game is meant to tell is about the journey, and the things you find along the way.

You Might Also Enjoy…

Insane Amounts of Crunch Recommendation Post (Without a specific focus on combat.)

Non-Combat, Heroic Fantasy Recommendation Post.

In-Depth Magic Systems Recommendation Post - especially Ars Magica.

If you like what I do and want to leave a tip, you can check out my Ko-Fi!

[sungbeam]

BIRDS OF PREY — thirteen

nonidol!kim hongjoong x f!reader

living in gray areas of your city, out of the way of gangs and mafia territories, could only keep you safe for so long. it was only a matter of time before you began running into problems, or rather, problems began running into you.

▷ genre, warnings. nc-17, strangers 2 lovers, slow burn, mafia au, angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of money laundering, skfnskjdkdjd one intimate moment., mentions/thoughts of murder

▷ word count. 5.3k

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a/n: yk i didn't even plan for this to be released on fri the 13th, but here we are 💀

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HONOR AMONG THE DISHONORABLE

KIM HONGJOONG HAD KILLED BEFORE, and he was not afraid to do it again, not even in front of a room full of people. But strangling Bang Chan in front of you wasn't on his bucket list, especially when your eyes were already as wide as a deer's, and he could see that you were reeling from all the new information thrown at you in the last fifteen minutes. 

(But he was right about Aurora. It was definitely your shade, and he was going to be as smug about it as possible… once the man across from him was dealt with.)

Wooyoung had tracked Bang Chan's license plate to this location last night. It was almost too easy, he reported, but Hongjoong didn't have much choice but to insert himself anyway. He needed to pull some strings, and sometimes, the only way to do things right was to do them yourself. 

What a fine coincidence to bump into Chan here, seated in your section, waiting—whether it was for you or for Hongjoong or both of you, he couldn't quite figure it out. But now, Hongjoong was certain what this all was; Chan wanted Hongjoong to pick up and follow his trail of breadcrumbs to lead him here. Chan knew who you were, knew who you were to him, and that in itself was dangerous. 

There were several things on Hongjoong's mind, one of which was eliminating the glaring DANGER sign across from him. If Chan put you in jeopardy, he would have Hell to pay. 

“I want to propose a partnership,” Chan said. 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “We have one.”

“You have one with Jinyoung, not me.” The heir idly swirled around the liquid and ice in his glass. “What I mean is I want to know how you… took over your predecessors, and to ask for your assistance in doing the same.”

The words were being absorbed, but not fast enough. Did Chan just say he wanted to forcibly take over the GV mafia family? Hongjoong's expression contorted into one of pure confusion. “Come again?”

“Aren't you literally inheriting the family business?” you piped up, equally incredulous as Hongjoong. He was glad you were both at least still on the same page. 

Chan took a generous gulp of his whiskey and set the glass back down. The relaxed persona he had on earlier had given way to a tension in his posture. That was what conspiring toward mutiny did to a person. “I am,” he confirmed, his lips pressing into a grave line, “but Jinyoung doesn't plan to give me sole ownership. I'm sure you've been actively working on your own problems, but our problems are more linked than I'd like them to be.”

This was certainly not going in the direction Hongjoong was expecting. Then again, none of what happened thus far had. “You've gotta be shitting me.”

“Dove!”

Heads whipped upward. You turned, nearly jumping out of your skin, and Hongjoong warmed a hand on your lower back. A co-worker of yours was waving you over, gesturing to a large pile of dirty glasses on a table. 

“Go,” Hongjoong murmured to you, “I'll catch up with you later, dove.”

You casted a weary glance over at Chan, then to Hongjoong beside you. With a small nod, you left to do your job; Hongjoong's fingers lingered on the fabric of your dress for as long as possible. 

Hongjoong picked up the Calliope Sonata drink you'd gotten for him and took a ginger sip of it. He pulled the glass away with a pleasantly surprised lift of his brow. It was exactly as you described it, sultry rich with the right amount of burn. And gorgeous to look at. (It reminded him of someone he knew.)

As he placed the glass back down on the table, he grappled with the heavy conversation at hand. He bit his lip, carding a hand through his hair. He didn't want to confront the actual possibility of the pieces that clicked together in his head. 

“So you're saying what I think you're saying?” Hongjoong asked Chan. 

Chan nodded stiffly. “Your skeletons have risen, and my boss has made a deal with the devil.”

“Shit,” Hongjoong huffed. He and Chan both took another swig of their drinks. “So why do you want my help? What exactly did you mean when you said you weren't going to have sole ownership?”

“My boss has been getting nervous, especially with his looming desire to step down and escape,” he said. “This importing thing—the one through your ports—this was going to be his last hurrah, and his last bid for funds. He wasn't planning to split anything with you.”

The realization dawned over Hongjoong with a shadow over his face. “He struck a deal with my enemies that would lead to my downfall, and thus, relinquish any control I had over his importing and the ports.”

Chan nodded, and swallowed the rest of his whiskey. He shook his head. “In return,” he continued, “you-know-who would own part of the family. My family. I don't want his bullshit poisoning my ranks. You understand, don't you?”

Hongjoong rubbed his lips together, drumming his fingers against the side of his glass. “I do, unfortunately.”

“Good.” Chan knocked his knuckles against the table absentmindedly. “Then we have an agreement.”

“Not” —Hongjoong cut in, placing a palm on the table— “yet. We have much to discuss before we can come to a full arrangement, Bang. And I'll continue to hear you out—just not here.”

His counterpart bobbed his head. “Fair enough.”

“I'll have an address sent and we'll meet there.” Hongjoong began to stand up from the booth, chugging the remainder of Calliope Sonata to usher in the burn he needed to fuel him through the next hour or so. “Don’t try to double cross me, Bang.”

Chan lifted his palms in surrender. “Wasn't on my mind.”

“And don't fucking mess with her like that ever again.” 

Hongjoong left a hefty tip on the table and disappeared into the crowd. Chan could fill in the blanks; he knew exactly who Hongjoong was talking about. 

But with one problem temporarily dealt with, there was yet another giant looming in the mist. Hongjoong made his way toward the bar on the far side of the club in search of the hallway that would lead him toward the managers’ offices. The managers of a Lioncrest Society establishment wouldn't recognize Hongjoong as himself or as his alter ego; they were too low on the totem pole. If he could establish himself in the right light, he would be able to push things into motion. 

The heavy bass in the room reverberated through his body, pulsing hard enough to affect the rhythm of his heart. He kept his gaze forward, stride confident. The thing about walking behind enemy lines was to act like you belonged. 

As he stepped into the back hallway that led to the kitchen, he heard his name—no, the fake name he gave himself tonight—called from behind him. He threw a glance over his shoulder, steps slowing to a halt to allow you to catch up to him. 

His eyes drew to a wad of bills rolled between your fingertips, and he glued his gaze to that instead of the lace around your leg, the smear of red painting your lips, the glazed-over glint in your eyes. Hongjoong tucked one hand into the pocket of his pants. “Dove, wasn't it?”

You stopped before him and held out the bills to him. “Yours.”

He bit his lip, only looking at the money—his money that he'd left on the table. “Yours,” he parroted. “You're not about to get caught returning money to a customer, are ya?”

You hesitated and your fingers curled around it slightly. With a glance behind you to check for witnesses, you stepped closer once. 

Hongjoong swore he could count your eyelashes now, smell the tantalizing scent of orange blossom and vanilla bourbon. He didn't know where to look with the money out of direct sight. 

“Play along?”

Gladly. He ran his tongue along his teeth, playing up a feigned interest. “Do you want me to talk loud or let people fill in the blanks?”

Your hand found his chest, lingering a painful breath away from the opening of his dress shirt. The money pressed between your palm and the fabric. “Are there people watching?” you asked with a smile. There was a flirty curl to the expression, one he hadn't seen on you before, and if he had been drunk, he wouldn't have been standing anymore. 

Hongjoong's eyes flitted lazily past your head to the outer room. There were definitely people passing by the hallway opening to peek inside. Some curious clubgoers, others he guessed were your peers. “I'll make it interesting for them,” he said, and moved his hand to brace beside your head against the hallway wall. “Something wrong?”

“What're you doing here?”

He blinked. Well, that wasn't what he'd been expecting. He kept his face at careful ease and used his free hand to cover yours. Slowly, he turned your hand around and enclosed your fingers around the roll of bills. “I'm gonna make sure you get into that meeting,” he said. 

Yours and his hands remained between your bodies, fingers entwined, palm over palm. 

A microscopic crease formed between your brows. “By what? Walking straight into a danger zone? Somebody wants you dead, Joong.”

“I can take care of myself,” Hongjoong replied with a slight tightness in his mouth. “I told you I had an idea; don't worry about it.”

“No one's gonna recognize you?”

He shook his head. “They shouldn't. Not here, anyway.”

Your mouth quirked into a slight frown, and he brought his thumb to your bottom lip. He almost wanted to muse that it sounded like you cared about him, words you once said to him. 

He leaned over to put his lips in line with your ear, his words only for you to hear. “This looks good on you,” he murmured. “And as for everything Chan said and did—I’ll take care of it.”

“I swear to god I had no idea that that was who he was,” you said lowly as he pulled back. There was a flash in your eyes, twin glints of steel. “Truly was, at least.”

Hongjoong pressed his lips together. “You act like I don't believe you. I trust my people, doll.” He took your hand again and pushed the money toward you; he took a step back, adjusting his lenses and flashing you an easy, flirty grin. “Take that as reimbursement for the new accessory.”

With nothing more than a slight wave goodbye, he turned on his heel and returned to his goal. When he had a hand against the back door, he glanced back. You were gone from the hallway, out of sight. 

He pushed out a breath. Good. 

He couldn't tell if the erraticness of his heartbeat was from that encounter or what lied ahead of him. Being the Captain didn't mean he didn't get nervous, because you were right—he shouldn't be here. But there were necessary evils, risks he had to take to ensure he could keep taking them.  

By the end of your shift, your jitters from earlier had yet to settle. You spotted Hongjoong leaving a few hours ago, not long after he disappeared to “make sure you got into that meeting.” You assumed he would act a part—trust fund kid with too much money taking an interest in some bottle girl. That was the story you managed to concoct anyway. You hadn't been able to say anything to him before he left, but he had left in one piece, and that was all you could hope for, you supposed. 

You stood by the staff desktop to clock out and lock in the remainder of the profit you racked in tonight. There were undoubtedly even more whispers after the stunt you and Hongjoong pulled in the hallway. They were as unavoidable as your colleagues avoided you, their shoulders just slightly more cold than usual. 

You could imagine some of the things running past their mouths. 

A presence arrived in your peripheral vision, their hip leaning against the wall beside you. “So about that guy earlier,” Sabine trailed off with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. She brushed a strand of wine colored hair out of her face so you could really see her impish grin. 

You rolled your eyes, locking in your inputs. “I already told you,” you teased back. The two of you began making your way toward the kitchen and backrooms. “There is nothing about him; he didn't even give me his number.”

“But that tip—that tip money was probably the highest of the night. And that's saying something.”

The kitchen doors swung violently behind you as you both entered. Jungwon was by the large, industrial sink as usual, dish rag over his shoulder while he put washed glasses on a drying rack. 

He raised a hand to you, finger flicking in the direction of the employee entrance out at the back.

You nodded with a thumb's up. “I guess you're right,” you replied to Sabine, feigning nonchalance. It was bad for business if you seemed to catch feelings for a customer. You'd been in this business long enough to at least have seen it happen. 

Your counterpart lifted her brows at you. “He was kind of into you.”

“Nah,” you laughed, shaking your head. The back of your ears were inflamed, but you knew something she didn't. The image of him up close flashed in your mind, and the phantom sensation of his lips at your ear nearly made your knees buckle again. “They always talk big game but can never play it.”

“And isn't that the truth,” she snorted. 

You turned into the break room with Sabine and your eyes snagged on Ha-yi lingering by the other hallway, her head buried in her phone as she typed something. When you and Sabine entered, however, she lifted her head up and beckoned you over with a pair of curled fingers. 

Sabine clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Remember me when you're serving the VIP lounge.”

You sent her a playful shrug before bounding over to Ha-yi. Even if you could pretend to be Dove, this persona you had come up with—this caricature of yourself—the person beneath it all was the complete opposite at this moment. You needed this promotion for motives greater than this persona. 

“You served Mr. Bang and his friend tonight, correct?” she asked, even though you were certain she knew the answer. 

You nodded. “I did. His friend was… Jun, if I'm not mistaken.”

She gave a little inclination of her head. “Right, Mr. Kim Myungjun. He seemed to take a shine to you, Dove.”

Ah, well, maybe Hongjoong should have considered becoming an actor. You folded your arms over one another, tilting your head as if recalling him. “I'm guessing you saw me and him in the hallway, huh?” you asked with a little wince. “He left me a tip at the table already, but when I was cleaning up—y’know, I found an extra roll of bills on the seat and thought he might have left them by accident.”

“And then he let you keep them?”

You hummed. “Yeah, but I logged it into the computer, I swear—”

“I know,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that I've been given permission to let you keep all of it.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “Pardon?” You hadn't counted all the bills Hongjoong left you, but it was more than enough to cover the cost of your garter. You could have probably bought an entire season's worth of them. 

Ha-yi's mouth lifted the slightest bit, and this was probably the closest to a smile that you would ever receive from her. “You heard me,” she confirmed. “Management says that you convinced Mr. Kim to become a VIP member of the club. Nice work, Dove.”

Huh. So that was Hongjoong's game. 

You managed a smile. “Thanks.” It wasn't your efforts, though, that got him to do it. And you weren't walking out tonight with a promotion, just a bonus. How much longer would you have to wait for a decision to be made?

About half an hour later, you and Jungwon sat in the front seats of his sedan, the engine running and the radio playing at a low hum. The two of you waved to Sabine as she disappeared through the front door of her apartment complex, somewhere near Sakura's neighborhood. 

The back of your head hit the headrest and a sigh loosened from your lips. 

Jungwon chuckled as he grabbed his phone from the cupholder, tapping the screen awake to check for notifications. “Some night, right? I saw the Captain strolling through the kitchen and almost squirted soap in someone's eye.”

That at least got a laugh out of you. “Me too, except I'm glad I wasn't carrying drinks when I saw him,” you said. 

“So he didn't tell you he was coming?”

You shook your head, pursing your lips. “No. He's the boss, dude—he’s not supposed to owe me an explanation, is he?”

Jungwon lifted his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as he pulled the car away from the curb. “Guess you're right,” he said. “I just assumed since you two are pretty close—”

“Don't tell me the gossip mill got to you,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. 

“I can't help it—I hear what I hear!” he exclaimed helplessly, but guffawed at your embarrassment nonetheless. “Oh, by the way, I have to stop by Kkura's; she has a hard drive that needs to be passed along to Seonghwa.”

You lifted your palms. “I got you. Do what you gotta do, Won.”

The road to Sakura's apartment was a familiar one and you spent most of it with your dazed eyes out the window. Hongjoong's run at the Dionysus management was to use money and influence to get you on the VIP staff line; however, that was also what Chan did, and no progress was made. You wondered if your little, gallant act with the money would convince them—somehow. 

But if you were being honest with yourself, it was likely just a matter of time. You didn't know why they were taking so long to make a decision with the meeting barrelling full speed head, but you were sure that you had made yourself the best possible candidate that you could. 

Jungwon pulled up in the alleyway by Sakura's house and promised to be quick. 

He left you in the silence and darkness of the car. You turned your head back to the front as the exhaustion from the night's shift weighed over you. You hoped Hongjoong got back okay; you hoped everything would be alright with Ryujin. Why had Chan even gone to those lengths to weasel his way in front of you? To make a statement? 

He claimed it was reconnaissance, but he couldn't have been less invasive? Maybe it was his paranoia. After all, you thought as you rolled your head to the side to rest against your own shoulder, he was planning a mutiny—

The car lit up with the arrival of a text message on Jungwon's phone screen. Then came another, and another. 

Your eyes blinked at the brightness, squinting. Just before the screen turned dark, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: “Jjong hyungie.” 

Oh. You could have sworn Jungwon said he was an only child, but maybe it was just a close friend of his who was older than him. 

The alley door opened, and Jungwon emerged from within. He threw himself into the front seat, tossing a plastic USB into the cupholder next to his phone. “Everything good out here?” he asked absentmindedly as he clicked his seatbelt into place. 

“Yeah, 'm fine,” you said as the car's engine hummed beneath you. “I didn't know you had an older brother, by the way.”

Jungwon's body stiffened beside you. “You were looking at my phone.” It was less of a question and more of an accusation. His hand snatched the device up, his eyes flickering over the screen, before shoving it into the pocket on the other side of him. 

You straightened in your seat, nerves on alert at his tone. “It wasn't on purpose,” you swore. “I just saw the name, that was all—”

“Just” —he pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed in a way that made him look like a stranger to you— “don't do that.”

“Sure,” you stammered. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Jungwon.” 

He didn't say anything, and you sank in your seat and returned your gaze to the window. 

If Park Seonghwa didn't have morals or respect for him, Hongjoong was certain his second in command would have had him swimming with the fish by now. 

“Your infinite patience humbles me.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” 

Hongjoong pursed his lips, settling his hands over the head of his cane. His friend's tone was message enough—Hongjoong had crossed a great many lines recently. It didn't matter that Hongjoong was technically his superior; Seonghwa had every right to worry. 

From beside where Hongjoong sat, Seonghwa stood as stiff as a statue, his hands pressed behind his back and his face settled into something stony. The two of them were in Jung Joonseo's old office in the abandoned Strictland stronghold. Hongjoong thought it would be an apt meeting place to discuss a possible arrangement with Chan. He would be here any minute. 

“I can't believe you.”

There it was. 

Hongjoong massaged his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “I don't know what I can say to convince you that I'm sorry,” he said. “It was important.”

“Do you not have faith in your own agent? Is that why it was so important?”

“That's not it,” Hongjoong insisted. He paused though. There wasn't a way he could articulate the feeling needling at the back of his mind about you. At least, not in a way that Seonghwa would understand. “Of course I trust her.”

Seonghwa's nostrils flared. “Then let her do what you assigned her to do.”

Hongjoong jammed his tongue in his cheek, hand fitting over his jaw. There simply wasn't enough time for you to establish trust with the Dionysus management the natural way. Plus, he never liked this idea of you being there in the first place. His active involvement was what kept him sane. 

A sigh from above his head: “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with her, Joong?”

“What a funny question.”

“Answer it.”

Hongjoong's eyes skirted up to Seonghwa, then returned to face forward. “There's nothing.”

“You really can do far better than that.” A beat of silence passed, and the sound of the clock in the room ticked loudly. “Is it because you still owe her a life debt?”

The thought had him shaking his head furiously. “No,” he said. “We are far past that right now.” But if you did call upon that last debt… He pressed his lips together. Was it so terrible for him to admit that he hoped you had forgotten about that offer?

“Then admit that you like her. You've grown attached.”

Hongjoong scoffed. “That's ridiculous.”

“The part where you like her or that you've grown attached?” 

He remained silent, and it was enough of an answer for Seonghwa. To him, if there was any reason for Hongjoong's hyper-involvement, it would have to be a damn good one. It wasn't as if Hongjoong had never been in danger before—but he was just asking for it, at this point. He might as well have slapped a big, red target on his back and frolicked out in the east corner. 

Furthermore, what would happen once all of this was said and done? You boarded this ship with the intention to help Ateez smoke out their enemies, but once Strictland was gone for good, did that include you, too? If Hongjoong was becoming attached to you—no, that was something that needed to be addressed later. Thought about later—Hongjoong would decide how to shift his masts once the wind blew.  

There came a knock at the office door, and Yunho appeared in the opening. “Cap'n,” he greeted with a nod, stepping aside to reveal Chan on the other side, as well as Jongho and Mingi taking up the back of the escort. 

Chan's eyes swiveled about the new space. He was still in the suit from earlier, as Hongjoong was, the alcohol smell permeating the room. Hongjoong could imagine that Seonghwa wasn't too pleased, but they couldn't just prop a window open. 

“Cozy,” Chan said as he took a seat across from him. 

Yunho closed the door behind him, standing at Chan's back, his arms crossed in front of his body. 

Hongjoong made a vague motion with his hand. “It's not mine,” he said, “but it'll do. My commanders have been brought up to speed on your proposal.”

Chan nodded, leaning forward to lock his fingers over the table top. “Alright then, what do you want to know?”

Helping Chan in this case would mean a combined effort against mutual enemies. Chan would be useful in passing along intel in regards to Jinyoung's moves and motivations, as well as anything they know about Strictland's possible next actions. 

“How much do you know about Strictland and their revival?” 

The heir made a small movement with his head. “I’m not allowed in the room where they have their meetings, but Jinyoung tells me about them afterward. But I recognized that man from the Kidult Company break-in; he's met with Jinyoung before.”

Hongjoong's brows creased. He must have meant Mr. Young. “They've met face to face?”

A nod. “Only once, but it was to discuss finances, because apparently the guy was well-versed in money in his past life,” Chan replied airily. 

Mr. Young made sense then, in this case, especially if he recognized his face. And if Jinyoung wanted a smooth retirement with plenty of income, that meant he needed this deal with Strictland to go well—in the sense that Ateez didn't have a hold over them. How could Jinyoung want this so badly that he was willing to hand over partial control of his empire to a complete stranger over Chan? What an idiot. 

“I believe Jinyoung was approached a few weeks ago about a partnership from Strictland,” he continued on. “The timing was… interesting. Jinyoung was getting nervous about you, Captain, I'll give you that. So much so that he fucked his family over.” Chan gave a disgruntled shake of his head, an indignant huff falling from his lips. 

Hongjoong supposed he could spare an ounce of sympathy for Chan. If someone took him in and practically treated him like a son, only to pull a stunt like this, it would be a knife in the back. The only difference was Hongjoong was the one doing the stabbing, and he was about to teach someone else how to pull the knife out to use himself. 

“So then what are their next moves? Do you know?” Hongjoong asked, his cheek still resting against his knuckles. 

Chan pressed his lips together. “No, we don't know their exact, next moves. But I can tell you that it'll be discussed at their next meeting.”

Hongjoong heard the pianissimo-level scoff from his second above him. He lifted two of his fingers off his cane, a signal—wait. “And when is this next meeting?”

“I thought you already knew, seeing as you've got an agent there,” Chan replied, his brows arching. “It's at the Dionysus club only a few days from now.”

So you were right, not that he doubted your instincts or information. If the leaders of this ridiculous revival act were going to be at Dionysus to meet with the heads of the Lioncrest Society, it would be an opportunity too fruitful to miss. 

Hongjoong made a small nod with his head. “Yes, we did know. The thing we need to confirm is who's coming to dinner.”

“I need to know you'll back me first,” Chan countered. He straightened in his chair, a move that made Yunho's hand slowly shift to the shadow beneath his coat. The heir had moxy—that much Hongjoong would give him—his chin was held up, shoulders confident. There was an air of authority that Hongjoong recognized. It was a shame that Jinyoung was a coward. “We make a pact of alliance, and when my people move on the head of the family, you'll support my bid.”

He had it all figured out, huh, Hongjoong thought. It was, unfortunately, a rather good move. Respectable, even. 

Hongjoong flexed the fingers over the head of his cane. “Deal,” he said. He lifted his head off his fist and extended his hand across the table. “You'll pass us information and we'll back you.”

Chan's mouth lifted into a slight smile, relieved and satisfied, as he clasped his hand with Hongjoong's. “A fine-sounding deal to me.” When he withdrew his hand, he sighed. “Jinyoung and I will be at the meeting,” Chan said, his lips pressing against one another into a line, making a dimple press into the side of his cheek. “Allegedly, the top brass from Lioncrest will be there, as well as representatives from Strictland.”

Hongjoong furrowed his brows, leaning forward in his seat. “Representatives?”

“Right,” Chan confirmed, “that Mr. Young fellow and the imposter Captain find this kind of group meeting beneath them.” He rolled his eyes, adding, “At least that's what Jinyoung mutters about. They won't be there, but there will be people there with direct access to them.”

It wasn't exactly what Hongjoong was looking for—or hoping for—but it was something. If Jinyoung had interactions with the imposter before, then he must have deemed this meeting in particular a risk he didn't want to take. How frustrating. 

“That's—fine,” Hongjoong said finally. “Nothing much we can do, but we'll work with it.”

Chan nodded in agreement. “Though, I should add that the GV and Strictland planned to move on you lot before our overseas shipment got to port.”

“Before? Then…” Hongjoong's voice trailed off. The last update he'd received from his soldiers planted in the GV's section of the dock was that the boat was about a week away. He suppressed any outward signs of concern; if Chan hadn't warned him, then the GV would have acted sometime soon with Ateez being none the wiser. 

An uncomfortable bubble filled Hongjoong's chest for the moment. How had he not seen any of it coming? Where was his head? It was impossible to be fully prepared for anything, but his peace of mind almost always came from being over prepared. 

There was much to do. 

Chan retained his solemn expression. “I trust that you'll know how to prepare? We haven't been given marching orders yet.”

Hongjoong massaged his jawline. “There are only so many ways to prepare for the unknown,” he replied. 

“True.” Chan seemed to mull something over, then inhale and ask, “You're planning to get Yn into the VIP staff to wait on the meeting, aren't you?”

“Yes, I thought you already knew that,” Hongjoong drawled. 

“Well, yes, but… no one else knows who she is, right?”

Something in the room pulled taut. Hongjoong's gloved hand enclosed around the beak of his crow-headed cane, eyes narrowing even as a lump formed in his throat. 

Seonghwa was the one to speak, though. “I suggest you tread carefully, Bang,” he said in a low voice. His hands remained behind his back, not a single falter in his stance. 

“I just needed to make sure there weren't loose ends.”

“How thoughtful of you,” the Captain replied wryly. Hongjoong fixed his opposite with a stony stare that spoke volumes on its own. “But you need not concern yourself with Yn anymore.”

It was a clear message to the Gold Village heir—Ateez protected their own like blood, and he was not kin.

a/n: pls reblog if u enjoyed !

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[tobeafangirl]

are you going to say it first, or am i?

Words: 4,917 Rating: M - smut (fingering, kissing) fluff, the slightest bit of angst Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader / Zayn Malik x Reader Type: Chapter (12/25) Previous ❀ Masterlist ❀ Requests

“Why are you so tense?” Harry and I were standing outside of the state fair. Only comes once a year. It was okay, nothing too fancy but it had become a small tradition of ours to go. We would ride a few rides but spent most of the time eating carnival foods and playing those “try your luck” games and failing each time. This time our plans were being interrupted by a certain someone which is why I was standing so tense as we were waiting for Gwen and Zayn to arrive. I did not know what the night had in store for us.  “Is there something I should know?” Harry was still out of the loop about the whole situation. He knew bits and pieces but that was all. 

“I mean,” He continued, “I know you and this guy have kissed but you are acting like there is more to it.” I glanced over at him, my lips pursed together. “Well..” I trailed off, sighing at myself. I should have already told him this, it's not like this was the best time to let him know but I turned towards him, frown slightly present on my face. “We hung out again after, I really thought we could be friends?” that came out as more of a question than a statement. It was true, I thought we could be friends. If he was going to date Gwen then, we kind of needed to be.

 “I know now that was stupid. When you came over that night when Gwen and I were talking, that is what we were talking about.” I did not go into great detail, but I let him know enough to put it all together. He nodded slowly and I watched as his jaw clenched for a split second, probably thinking about what could have possibly happened between Zayn and I. 

“I’m not going to like this guy, am I?” Harry relaxed a little bit and so did I. I shook my head, “Not at all.” 

A good fifteen minutes had passed before I saw Zayn’s truck come speeding into the parking lot. Harry and I watched as they got out of the truck and Gwen fixed her lipstick. They had been making out, you could tell from miles away. Harry rolled his eyes. We both were annoyed. 

“Sorry!” Gwen called out as they hurriedly made their way to us. “We got a bit um, caught up? Yeah, caught up.” She looked happy with her excuse. Zayn didn't say anything, just walked up with lipstick smudged lips and a smirk on his face. He promptly put his arm around Gwen. I glared at them. “No worries, shall we?” Harry gestured towards the laughter coming from behind us. I hoped that would be us soon. 

“So, Harry, this is Zayn.” Gwen did her introductions as we walked. Harry gave a friendly nod to Zayn, “Nice to meet you, man.” Such a gentleman, even given the circumstances. Zayn finally spoke, “Heard a lot about you.” He was eyeing me as he said that. I tried to shrug him off, I was sure Harry could sense how uncomfortable I was. “Likewise” And the way Harry said that caused me to look in his direction. He sounded displeased, aggravated, it was kind of attractive. I heard Zayn chuckle. I knew that was exactly what he wanted. 

“Okay, enough of that. How about we grab a bite to eat? I am starving.” Gwen tried to be the person of reason as she b-lined towards the bright flashing food booths that were set up. Harry and I both kind of walked behind Gwen and Zayn. He still had his arm around her but it had moved from her shoulder to her waist as he held her tightly next to him. I saw a look of disgust on Harry’s face and I could not have agreed more.

“Is this normal?” Harry whispered, leaning down to me a little bit as he did. “Yes.” I told him. Ever since our talk in the living room, they had been all over each other. It did not matter if I was in the room or not, in fact, sometimes I believed it only happened while I was in the room. There was no easy way to be happy for them. 

“Are we like that?” He looked perplexed but this caused me to laugh. I shook my head vigorously “No, no, no..”  And we weren't. Harry knew that being overly touchy in public was not for me. We saved that mostly for private time. Now, did we kiss every once in a while or hold hands, sure. I was not opposed to doing subtle things but Zayn's hand had slipped from Gwen waist down to her ass at this point and I knew it was because we were behind them. To Zayn, everything was a game. 

When we ordered, the look on the cashier’s face was priceless. Zayn got some fries, I think, while the rest of us at least got two-three things on the menu. “That is going to be priceless.” Harry mumbled behind me as I ordered a funnel cake. I shot him a look and he smiled innocently. 

It was clear that Zayn not only looked but seemed out of place among us. We have all been friends for so long and the only person here that was giving Zayn any kind of attention was Gwen. She kept giving me pleading looks to try and make things work. “So, Zayn, have you ever been to the fair here?” I tried my best to fake interest. I received a smile from Gwen, a strange look from Harry, and amusement from Zayn. “I have not. Any pointers?” Something flashed in those dark eyes of his. How could Gwen not tell he was openly flirting with me. At  least that was what it seemed like. I could tell Harry concurred with that too, because suddenly he was closer to me, answering his question for me.

“Stay away from the rides that go further than two feet off the ground, unless it is the ferris wheel. Girl-wonder over here” He pointed at Gwen. “Decided to do the parachute fall, she almost broke her ankle. I even think she puked.” Harry stuck his tongue out at the thought in disgust and I laughed beside him, smacking him on his arm lightly. 

Gwen shook her head as she retold the story, “It came down so fast, I could physically feel the bottom of that ride touch the ground. I think it crashed! They say ‘no that's how it's supposed to go’, I think not.” She was definitely exaggerating, “I could have died.” Okay, over exaggerating. Nearly everyone at the table laughed but Zayn. He was studying Harry and I. I could tell he had tensed up ever since Harry had moved closer to me. He did not like that.

As we sat there to eat I eyed the funnel cake in front of me. I had a childish grin on my face. I haven't had one of these in so long. The distant memory I had of it involved my mom. She used to take me to get one, most of the time to ask for favors. So, it held a bittersweet memory. Sometimes I missed her, but I knew I was better off on my own. “How are you planning to eat that?” Gwen pointed at my funnel cake and I shrugged, “Not sure but it will happen.” 

We rode a few rides. I definitely could say that Harry was a great distraction. He kept me smiling, laughing, and enjoying myself. I almost forgot Gwen and Zayn were there. Unless we could hear them. And I don't mean to hear them talking. Every once in a while we would hear Gwen squeal in excitement as Zayn did something a little too risque in public and Harry and I always turned to see them interlocked with each other in a kiss. They looked so uncomfortable together, like it was forced. And if everything Zayn told me was true, it probably was forced. We both did our best to ignore it though, exchanging glances to each other. 

“I think it's ferris wheel time!” Gwen was excited and so was I. Ferris wheels could be romantic. In the back of my mind, I was hoping we would stop at the very top so we could see everything and share a kiss or two. I blushed at the thought. I know that sounded like a teenage cliché. I was allowed to have a few of those. Harry wiggled his eyebrows at me and I stuck my tongue out at him. It seemed like we were on the same page. 

After waiting in line for a moment it was finally our turn. “Are you all together?” The operator asked. “Yes! Well, sort of.” Gwen tried to explain. “All of you hop in the next one.” The operator said lazily as he barely looked at us. “Can we actually get a separate one?” Harry spoke up, I smiled softly at him. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Those words came from Zayn as he got into the ride, bringing Gwen along with him. She waved at us eagerly as the operator said “Now or never.” 

And there we all were, crammed in a small pod orbiting this stupid ride. My face was not hiding how upset I was. “We can ride again.” Harry offered to me but I shook my head. I was ready to go. Typically the ferris wheel was the last thing we did anyways. Harry nodded in an understanding manner. I think he was ready to go as well. Harry had his arm around me to be more comfortable and was pointing out stupid things to me to get me to smile. It worked. We were not on the ride long before the sounds of wet kissing filled the air. Harry shifted uncomfortably and tried his best to look away. 

Gwen had her legs in Zayn’s lap as they sat there kissing. They looked like they were putting their entire bodies into the kiss. Her hands were all over him while his hand sat on the outside of her thigh, her dress lifted up slightly. She let out a whimper and he let out a hum. I glanced in their direction and Zayn was looking right at me. His eyes half open as he focuses on me and touches another woman. I wonder if Harry noticed that as well. 

Gwen and Zayn had calmed down. Gwen was permanently wearing pink cheeks now as she was flushed and Zayn wore that same smug smile. When we made it to the top, the ride stopped and I let out an audible groan. Of course this would happen in this circumstance. Harry was looking down at me with a smile on his face. I gave him a small confused look before I shook my head at him. He shrugged a bit and raised his eyebrows. We were not about to do this, were we? The darkening of those emerald green eyes told me otherwise. Harry placed his fingers on my cheek as his thumb moved over my bottom lip, it was so slow it almost tickled me. Before I knew it Harry had positioned himself where he could move in and place a sweet, loving, kiss on my lips. It wasn't wild like Zayn and Gwen, but it was the kiss I had imagined for years. He lingered there for a moment before pressing one more kiss to my lips. 

“Dream come true?” He asked once there was slight space between us, I gave him a soft punch to the shoulder “Shut up.” I replied but the grin on Harry’s face was going nowhere. I could hear soft giggles from Gwen and my cheeks started to mimic hers. I glanced their way again and although Gwen looked like she was in a fairy-tale, Zayn did not. His jaw was clenching again, and his eyes were fixated on Harry, burning holes into him. I don't know what he expected to happen tonight, but it was not this.

Once we got off the ride and before Gwen could say anything else. I started to say my goodbyes to them. “Wait, you're leaving?” Gwen sounded sad, but we had been here for hours. She just was not picking up on how bad things have been so far. She was too caught up in a bad thing that she thought was good for her. News flash, it wasn’t. “Yeah, it’s - uh, well, it’s” I tried to come up with an excuse but Harry did that for me “It’s getting late.” Zayn let out a huff  “Of course it is” He was annoyed. We all ignored him, “Okay, well I should be home a little later.” Gwen laced her arm with Zayn’s and I once again found myself cringing at the sight. 

“Y/N is actually staying with me tonight, sorry Gwen.” My eyes shot straight up to Harry’s. This was not something we talked about previously. We thought maybe I could come over after, but there was no talk about staying the night. My eyes slightly widened as I noticed he was now the guy in the group that was carrying a smug smile on his face. He was making Zayn jealous. 

Gwen gave a look of amusement before smiling wide. “Good! Okay, yes, that’s great.” She winked at me. “You two be safe, in every aspect, okay?” Gwen was proud of that one and Harry chuckling at her was not helping, I shook my head as I crossed my arms. “Goodnight Gwen.” Harry said with a small nod. “Zayn.” Harry’s voice was filled with annoyance, this time there was nothing nice behind it. No trying. He genuinely hated this guy.

Once we got back into Harry’s car he slumped in his seat as he looked over at me. “He’s a dick” I snickered a little bit. He most certainly was not wrong. “I could have told you that.” I said with a shrug. I was happy that someone else said it. The way he acted, the way he carried himself, all of it. It was toxic masculinity at its finest. 

“He looks at you like you’re his property.” There was disgust in his voice and I furrowed my brows as I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that's definitely new.” Zayn didn’t act like that before, and I knew it was because Harry was there but still, it was different. I don't know if he thought I would have found it attractive but I did not. 

“I feel horrible for Gwen.” There was a sadness in his voice now, his hand was placed on his forehead. I couldn't help but agree with him there. Gwen had gotten herself into something I was not sure she was going to be able to easily get out of. I sighed as I nodded, “Gwen is grown enough to make her own decisions.” I was using her own words. Not that I agreed because I didn't. Gwen was not the best at making decisions when it came to her relationships, but it was an argument I did not want to have over and over again. 

There was a bit of stalling as Harry thought for a second. “I know but -- Y/N?” It was weird hearing my name come out of his mouth. It had been a while. I almost thought he forgot what my name was. “Yeah?” The atmosphere changed ever so slightly as I glanced at him. He looked worried. “Do you like him?” 

“No.” My answer was without hesitation. I don’t think I ever truly liked him. Just the idea of him. “And the things that happened between you…” Harry continued on and I shook my head “Was nothing.” Harry looked like he was contemplating what I said. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t been forward about anything that went on between Zayn and I. It was normal for him to have doubts. 

I reached over, taking Harry’s hand in mine as I interlocked our fingers together. “Harry. If anything, hanging out with Zayn only ever solidified that this is what I want.” I gave his hand a light squeeze. “To be here with you.”

I watched as a smile appeared on his face. He glanced at me, giving me a look of adoration. “Now, am I actually staying the night with you?” I asked him, and he chuckled “If you want.” He gave a small shrug but I grew excited at the thought. “I want to.”

***

It never fails to surprise me at how compact Harry’s apartment is. It made my apartment look like a castle. He got a bit awkward when we walked inside and I smiled to myself at how flustered he was, slightly picking up small messes as he realized them. This is why we typically hung out at my apartment, but this was still nice. Something about it made it homey. Maybe it was because I was there with Harry who could make the strangest places feel like home to me. 

He walked into his kitchenette, fiddling with glasses as he did so. I wasn't even sure if he had a stove, it just kind of looked like a hot top in there. I giggled slightly. It amazed me how much I was noticing. Typically, Harry would usher me straight into his room. “Do you want some water or anything?” He called out to me. I shook my head although he couldn’t see me. “No, thank you though.”

The air was thicker, different from normal. This was new territory. I could feel how nervous we both were. He turned on his heels. “Bedroom?” He asked and my eyes widened. He was fast to figure out how that might have sounded, “I mean -- not like bedroom, but like -- movie. Do you want to watch a movie?” He was scratching the back of his neck now, face scrunched slightly in embarrassment. I laughed, seeing him frazzled always caused enjoyment. Calm, cool, and collected jumped right out of the window.

“Sure, that’s fine.” I followed behind Harry as he made his way into the bedroom. He turned on the light and I softly smiled. Always so clean here. The bed was always made, Harry really cared about his bedroom. Maybe it was his safe space. I looked around and noticed that his simple pictures had changed. There had been a fourth one added to his collection. It was him and I. It just looked like a random photo that we had taken one day, but I was full smiling towards the camera as Harry had his lips pressed against my cheek. This caused me to blush. This boy was astonishing. 

“Um - I can get you some sweats?” He pointed at the jeans I was still wearing and I nodded eagerly. “I would appreciate it.” If I would have known this was happening, I would have packed a bag to make things a little easier. Harry handed me a pair of his sweats and I made my way into his bathroom. I looked into the mirror once I got in there and took a deep breath. What was happening? 

I turned on the water and threw some on my face, the cold making me shiver as I tried to pull myself together. This was Harry. But this felt different. I began to take my jeans off and replace them with sweats. They were soft and smelt like his “special” detergent. It was Tide, I was pretty sure, but I let him have his secrets. I reached behind me underneath my shirt and unhooked my bra. If I was staying the night I was going to be comfortable. I stacked my clothes neatly on the counter before taking the short walk back into the bedroom. Harry had changed as well. He had on some sleep shorts and a plain white shirt. The way it clung to him caused my breath to hitch for a moment. 

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes trained on me. I could only bring myself to nod as I made my way to the bed and pulled the covered back. I got myself situated comfortably, Harry doing the same on his side. He ended up picking a movie we had both seen before and I wondered if that was intentional or not. 

At first, it felt like we were miles apart. He had a small bed, and we were both at our separate ends. We would brush each other every once and a while and each time I nearly jumped at the feeling. 

“I can’t…” Harry shook his head and closed the gap between us. He swiftly moved me so that his arm was around my back, practically laying me where he wanted, which was partially on top of him. I let my hand lay on his chest as I let out a small giggle. “That’s better” A sigh of relief left him. 

We laid there in silence until credits started to roll. I felt so safe in his arms. “We should get some rest.” He whispered but there was something hidden underneath his words. I couldn't quite figure it out. I glanced at the time. It wasn't extremely late. Usually, we didn't go to sleep until late in the morning when the birds were just about to start chirping. But I nodded, “Yeah.” I was unsure of myself at that moment, but I knew that agreeing was in my best interest. 

He turned off the TV and the room became quiet and dark. We started to get more comfortable as we moved further down onto the bed, “Goodnight.” 

He hummed and repeated “Goodnight.” back to me as he leaned his head down to catch my lips with his. The kiss was soft and lingering and my fingers tightened in his shirt in an effort to pull myself close to him. When he pulled back it wasn’t far, it was like he was weighing his options and I knew what they were. I couldn’t see him as clearly anymore but I could feel those eyes on my lips. 

The second kiss was a little more electric than the first, his lips pressing a bit harder to show just how eager he was. I kept up with his pace and tangled my free hand in his hair, slightly tugging it. I had come to find out he liked that. He hummed with approval and I smiled against his lips. He then began to move us to where I was on my back and he was hovering above me. 

It amazed me that our lips never parted. His tongue now danced at my lips and I was quick to let him in. I let my fingers run up and down his back, slightly scratching, another thing that he liked. That’s when his lips broke from mine and started to slowly trail kisses alongside my jaw before dipping into the nape of my neck. Each kiss he planted there added fuel to the fire. I tilted my head to give him easy access, and he responded by nipping at the flesh as a thank you. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in.

Harry’s hand made me shiver as it made its way up my shirt, lifting it up as he did so. His touch was soft. It was at this moment I remembered that I was not wearing a bra. I went through different emotions. Panic, curiosity, and lastly acceptance. I wanted him to touch me. No, I needed him to. However, he didn't. Before his soft fingers touched sensitive flesh, Harry pulled away, sitting up on his knees. I didn't know when it happened, but Harry was now perfectly sitting in between my legs. He took in the sight of me and I could only imagine what was staring back at him.

My eyes were filled with lust, my lips slightly parted. I was panting softly, in awe of the events that were taking place. He smirked. He felt proud. He should. He reached down and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. I bit down on my lip with desire. 

Before he could lean back into me I stopped him. I wanted to take him in. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the faint light of the moon outside. He was miraculous. No, he didn’t have a crazy defined eight pack but he had tone in the right places, I could see his muscles that he hid so well under his shirt. A smooth chest, slight abs. I was in love with my view. 

I took this moment to raise myself up. It wasn’t fair that he was the only one shirtless, right? I reached for the hem of my shirt and I was sure I saw Harry hesitantly begin to stop me but he didn’t. I lifted my shirt and tossed it to the side, letting my hair fall wherever it may as I tried to hide behind it. I heard his breath catch in his throat and I thanked the lord he couldn’t see how red my face was. 

He moved my hair out of my face and our eyes locked. Yes — there was lust in Harry’s eyes as expected but what I didn’t expect to see was love. He looked at me in the most cherishing ways, like I was the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. He slowly laid me back and our lips connected once again, this time in a tender kiss as his hands slowly explored my body. 

I was not an idiot. This was not Harry’s first rodeo and I knew that but boy could I also tell it. The way he kissed the top of my chest, down the valley of my breasts to my belly button, to my sides. I was practically whimpering, the area of my body being neglected that longed the most for his touch. 

I could not help the moan that escaped from me as he wrapped his lips around my already hardened nipple, my back arching into him as he did so. He hummed in response, the vibration sending more pleasurable chills through me. My fingers tightened in his hair while his right hands trailed down to the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing. 

His eyes glanced up towards me and I nodded in approval. “Please” I whispered, I don't think he expected that and to tell the truth I didn't either. He kept his eyes locked on mine as his hand slipped beneath every layer of fabric that separated his touch from the area that was dripping with anticipation. His fingers traced the outside of my folds as his eyes intensified. “Say it again” His voice was deep and yet breathy. I shook with excitement as the word came effortlessly from my lips, “Please.” 

And with that his fingers dipped inside of me, slowly working circles over my clit as I tried my hardest not to thrash around. I was lost in complete ecstasy as continuous moans left me. A couple of them were swallowed by Harry as he would catch my lips with his from time to time, only fueling the passion between us.

He worked two fingers inside of me as I closed my eyes even tighter than before. “Harry.” I moaned his name as his fingers pumped at a pace that caused my nails to dig into the skin of his arm and my hips ground down onto his digits. 

My breath quickened, I could fill my pleasure building up to its climax. Harry seemed to encourage this, picking up on the hints and his fingers worked magic inside of me while his thumb moved over my clit in delicious ways. This was it. My back arched once again and I let out a cry I had never heard before, shaking as I held onto him. He chuckled in my ear as he placed kisses all over my face. I felt numb as my body slowly came down from its high. 

My eyes connected with his again. His eyes wide with hunger, mine half-lidded and lazy. The entire time I could feel him against me, how hard he was, I wanted to take care of him like he did me. I reached down to the hem of his shorts and he took my hands in his. I looked at him confused and he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight is all about you, Y/N.” And with those words he gave me another outstanding kiss before he laid on his side and pulled me into him, making me the little spoon. 

It was hard to wrap my head around what just happened. My mind was still foggy. All I knew was that I was warm. Not just by his touch but warm with love for the guy who laid behind me. Tonight had been perfect despite the earlier events. Everything felt right. I snuggled into him as much as I could, a bright smile on my face and Harry gave me a small peck on the side of my face as his arms wrapped around me. I really could get used to this.

[omgjumin]

How about headcanons on sucking Gojo off?

gojo headcanons - sucking him off!

tags: gender neutral! reader, smut (obvs), oral! m recieving, afab reader, oral! f recieving, sub! gojo, switch! gojo

- no because ive thought about this so much, more than id like to admit but!! gojo would love receiving head as much as he loves giving it. trust me he fucking LOVES going down on you too

- i like to think gojo has a insane infatuation with the way you look when your sucking him off that he doesnt want to admit to. whenever you go down on him and you bat your pretty eyes up at him while your mouth is full of him, he fucking loses it everytime.

- whenever he's stressed to the point of snapping and he's just in the right mood for it, he will literally pull you to lay down (wherever you were it doesn't matter) and eat you out. he fucking loves it. gojo will make you cum on his fingers & his tongue, just for his pleasure. sure for your pleasure too as well, as he takes great pride in being able to rip those orgasms from you so easily. but when you insist on pleasuring him as well, he does not refuse.

- the feeling of your warm mouth, your lips wrapping around his cock just throws him off the edge.

- i like to think that gojo also loves when you wrap your lips around his tip. it gets him GOING. especially if you do it right when he's about to cum. he will literally cum right there and then. he loves the way your lips feel around his beating red tip, it makes him let out the most attractive moan you've heard come from him.

- he loves when you set your own pace. though if you were to tease him even once with going too slow he will grip your hair and shove you down on his cock, forcing you to take him whole right then.

- but when you kiss down his chest, down towards his happy trail, his v-line and then onto his cock, bobbing your head up and down slowly before speeding up. he goes wild. he loves the build up. it gets him more turned on than ever.

- but guys hear me out... sub! gojo now that's a WHOLE different story. (i headcanon gojo as a switch who has a preference for being dominant but he absolutely loves when you take control)

- sub! gojo whines when he doesnt get what he wants. he's a brat. he gives you a certain look sometimes that tells you that he can flip the situation at any time and put you in your place but he chooses not to, just to poke fun at you.

- sub! gojo loves to whimper and moan loudly for you (especially with yall w the voice kinks nd who love to hear men whimper), once he finds out your kinks, he will use them against you (he likes to be a lil shit when he can).

- sub! gojo who will try to guide your head to go faster down his cock because he desperately needs his release but when you glare up at him through your eyelashes, he whines softly.

- sub! gojo who if you wanted to would want you to play with his balls as you sucked him off. (if balls gross you out, ignore this) he doesn't ask outwardly but instead he guides your hands to play with them. the feeling of your hands on his balls combined with your mouth is heavenly.

- gojo also loves cumming in your mouth, the sight of his seed dripping out your mouth is too pretty for him not to love it.

- but what really gets him going is when you pull up from cock and there's a spit trail connecting you and his cock. he goes feral.

[babextoken]

I saw your requests were open! I was wondering if you could maybe write a reader x roommate!Vessel, where reader is just exhausted & coming home from a late night work shift. And reader is just tired and overwhelmed and is just so glad to be home.

Take it anywhere you'd like. It just sounds really nice to come back to your quietly calm roommate (who you may absolutely adore, but oh no no, you certainly can't tell him that.)

Only if you want or have time or are interested! 😌💙🙏

Eeeeeeee nom nom nom sensitive roommate!vessel I luv u. Here you go darling anon, I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

Roommate!Vessel x gn!reader

Fluff with optional nsfw ending under the cut

Home. Finally. Even if you were just sitting in your darkened car in the driveway, you already felt a little better. You just needed a sec to decompress before being around anyone again. Not that Vessel ever made you talk about your day or act a certain way. He toes the line between aloof-house cat-roommate and emotional-support-roommate really well.

You think back to the first time you came home to him after a closing shift. He sat in the living room, lights off, watching tv, wrapped in a blanket. You knew then you chose the right housemate. He patted the cushion next to him, even offered to change the channel. When you sighed heavily, he just asked, “rough day?” You nodded, and he patted your hand. That was all you needed.

And then there was that other time he stayed up until 2 AM listening to you and comforting you after a disagreement with a coworker that was so bad you were actually questioning if this was the right field for you. That was the first time he saw you cry. Not like when you cry during a movie. Like bawling. You swear after he finally let you go from the bear hug that he might have had a little tear in his eye, too.

Oh…and that time you came home grumpy around Valentine’s Day and you were surprised to see him home. His date cancelled, so you two stayed up and watched shitty rom coms and eating Chinese food.

Sometimes you wondered idly what he did after you parted ways on nights like that. His bedroom was just down the hall but he still felt far away. How did he perceive you? Surely he’s just being nice. Just polite. With his sweet grin. Soft hands. God damn it. You’ve been lying to yourself long enough. You’re in love with him. But if you tell him you’ll lose your roommate and a good friend (or at least got like to think so). You sigh heavily as you leave your car and go inside. He’s in the kitchen having a snack when his face lights up upon seeing you.

“Hey. Alright?”

You shrug. “Exhausted in every sense.”

He beckons you over and gives you a little hug before reaching his fingers behind your neck. He gently takes your lanyard off you and sets it on the kitchen island. “You don’t need that anymore. Home now…and for the long weekend no less. That’s good, yeah? Are you hungry?”

You don’t respond. You’re just looking at him softly. Blankly but softly. God he’s just right there. “Can I have another hug?”

It’s his turn not to answer. He pulls you close and rubs your back with his knuckles. You can finally breathe. As the hug ends, you absentmindedly place a kiss on his neck. You were so wrapped up in how good he felt and your feelings that you just…

“Do that again,” he whispers. You can’t believe it. He wants you to keep going. Your kisses trail up to his cheek and that’s when he moves his lips to finally meet yours. That first kiss. Your tummy is full of butterflies…and fireworks. You cannot believe your luck that you read the signs right. He holds your face like you’re his. And perhaps you are now. You hope so. His lips could cure anything, you think. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad night after all.

You thought blurting out “I’m literally in love with you” right after that kiss might have ruined things. But seeing as you’re in his bed…giving him consent to touch you under clothes…and hearing him make the same confession as he places an easily hidden love bite on your collarbone…you think maybe closing shifts won’t be that bad anymore.

[mahou-shoujo-dandelion]

New thread from Mei Amaki (@raintreemei) about translation of MGD

"To commemorate ch. 9's release tomorrow, I give you some slightly deeper, most likely boring, musings about the EN translation of Magical Girl Dandelion... (Key: TL = translation, LIT = literal translation, / = new speech bubble)

The LIT is "You're making a peace sign like an elementary school kid..." In EN, what Shade is doing is better understood as doing bunny ears behind someone's head. It's not that peace sign doesn't exist at all in English, but when done like this, the term changes!!

The other thing is that while we do make fun of people for doing behavior stereotypical for a certain age, we don't really talk about what school they're in. So, we basically picked an age that would fit an elementary school student instead. The other thing is tone!

The JP just trails off, but Tanpopo is clearly not impressed/a lil exasperated, so to capture that tone, we made the line a rhetorical question. JP and EN use punctuation differently to capture tone differently, so we often cannot TL it the same way!

The LIT is "You are invited to (the) rose tea party." So, the first thing is that this is clearly a nod to Alice in Wonderland, which means the English needs to match that vibe. But also, it doesn't sound very good in English to tack an adjective to "tea party" as-is...

I struggled a bit when translating this, but then this was my thought process: what does a rose tea party entail? They aren't drinking roses, but there are a lot of roses in Alice's mirror world...which means they're surrounded by roses. So, what about "amidst the roses"?!

The LIT is "It's starting, it's starting. / In the paradise (wonderland) where the rose flowers dance, / the crazy tea party is starting." For the first bubble, this is just a way of saying that "it's starting imminently", so I Wonderlanded the phrasing, but the other bubbles were a bit harder. JP can fit a lot of detail into one sentence, but comic book English can hate this sometimes (especially long relative clauses). So, I split each clause into its own sentence, then translated the "is starting" another Wonderland-ie way to avoid repetition.

A very simple thought, but I tend to ignore the SFX for smile/smirks/grins in JP, since sometimes they use the same SFX for different actions. I always try to translate the SFX based on what kind of face the person's face is actually making. For Shade, it has to be a smirk!

LIT: "How would a hero smile at a time like this?" This TL isn't necessarily bad, but it could be a lot punchier. JP is a highly contextual language, so "this time" is clearly "a time like this" = "a time of desperation, when all hope is lost" to JP readers.

Part of a TLer's job is to determine when the EN needs to be made more specific. This is actually one of the hardest parts of TL and requires an extremely high level of reading comp in both target and source language. As an old teacher used to say, we must be bold yet humble! Bold enough to make these kinds of calls (though with the support of our editors, TL checkers, and proofreaders, the copy desk!), but meek enough to not presume we know everything and to take it too far!

This was such an obvious choice to me that I hadn't realized it would be of interest, but it's virtually impossible to write a British accent in JP, so translators have to use contextual cues to determine what kind of accent/voice to give characters.

If a manga is set in Britain, (unless played for some joke,) the appropriate choice is to use British EN from the time period the manga is set in. Since this is all Alice in Wonderland, I determined the correct choice was a somewhat stereotypical poshier British accent.

In hindsight, I'm really glad I made it a little stereotypical. When we see Alice's backstory, we learn that this Wonderland stuff is essentially an act. Alice knows what he's doing, that he's alone, so he puts on this mask to self-soothe. A happy fit on our part in hindsight!

So, that's it for this thread! How'd you like it? What'd you think? Was it a bit too technical? I'll try to write a thread before each new Dandelion chapter if I have time!"

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

-

  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 

But who really listens to him anyway? 

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 

Twilight and Wild are their own story. 

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 

He told the champion to stay. 

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 

More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  

Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 

“There you are, rancher.” 

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 

“Cap’n?” 

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  

“The others?” 

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 

“Wild?” 

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 

“The kids?” 

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 

“Yer upset.” 

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I said stay still.” 

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 

“Wars?” 

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 

A tick. “What does that mean?” 

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 

[muffinsin]

hiii i have a request. could you do all the dimitrescu sisters reaction to having an innocent gf? like she is tiny, maybe 5’2, kinda clingy, can always brighten up the room with her presence, people pleaser (to the point that she allows people to walk all over her), naive and gullible (believes everything the sisters tell her), and just an overall adorable girl.

I adore people similar to this sm XD absolutely! Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

She thinks you’re absolutely adorable

Her little, sweet teddy bear

Her sunshine, as she opts for calling you

She thinks it’s absolutely adorable how innocent you are. She doesn’t want anybody ruining this

She absolutely uses you as a teddy bear

To just cuddle you at times, or perhaps pick you up and set you down on her lap

Would you like to know a secret? Bela loves how certain traits of yours make you more dependent on her

It’s a twisted wish, in a way, but having you so dependant makes her feel so good about herself. So needed

She sees people walking all over you because you’re a people pleaser and immediately puts a stop to it

No one dares walk all over you, knowing they will have to answer to Bela

When being asked for a favour, you are always assured you don’t need to do it should you not want to. It’s funny how Bela has this effect on people even if she isn’t there

Though, she does encourage you to be less of a people pleaser on your own too

She’s busy often, and sometimes isn’t there to tell someone to do things themselves rather than dump work on you, for example.

She doesn’t want people walking all over you and while she will always help you, she thinks you should learn not to allow people to walk all over you

Bela makes sure no one takes advantage of your naivety. She sees through it all

Often, she might come across as jealous and too possessive, or even controlling, because of this

This is merely because she sees the intentions of some, while you miss them. She will never let anybody mess with you, though

She often becomes annoyed at her sisters and scolds them for telling you false things

Such as the time you attempted to suck and bite the skin of her neck off while she slept because her sisters had told you it was needed

Something along the lines of shedding skin due to the cadou? Bela really couldn’t handle the idiotic ideas of her sisters

For days, she walked around with a bright pink blush and extra much makeup to cover the big hickies all over her bruised neck

Cassandra

Have you ever heard of the black cat x golden retriever relationship dynamic?

Yes well, this is it

She loves you so much. You’re her sunshine, all hers

She is very possessive of you

You’re her precious little human. Her little lamb

She finds you’re a people pleaser very fast. And it makes her feel all the more protective

Every time someone talks to you, she’s behind you

Staring, no. Glaring

Daring them to attempt to take advantage of your people pleasing nature

She’s around you nearly constantly to ensure your safety. Either literally, or with a view flies trailing after you

The moment someone steps out of line and takes advantage of you, she’s by your side, glaring them down and laughing manically

“Say that again. I dare you”

She likes to feel you in her arms. You’re so short, so perfect to cuddle. Though she will barely initiate cuddles

Cassandra’s the type to act a little uninterested, yet listen to every little word you say

She likes to tease sometimes

To tell you ridiculous stories you somehow believe

To see your eyes widen in wonder when she tells you of slaying large monsters and bringing you a pebble back, saying it was a part of their skin. Somehow, you believe it

You’re her absolute favourite

Daniela

You’re her sunshine! And she’s yours

Daniela’s so energetic, she just wants to tug you with her and laugh all the time

She loves that you’re tiny, and likes to rest you against her chest as she reads

You’re practically pocket sized to her!

Daniela often rests her arms on you, or full on snuggles against you

She’s very cuddly, and you just happen to be her personal teddy bear, day and night

She absolutely loves that you can make her smile every day

In return, she is so happy to have you smile at her when she tells a joke

Dani hates when people take advantage of your innocent nature

She absolutely tries to ask you to please less. To not let people walk all over you

She tries to make you understand some people are simply below you- you’re with her now after all

She’s very protective over you because of that and often goes on a rampage when she finds you stressing over things you’ve purely agreed to out of “politeness”

Whoever dared take advantage of you is to be made into an example for others to avoid such behavior

You’re even more naive than her, too! And that’s saying something

Often Daniela must remind you of the dangers of the village, how not everybody is as sweet and innocent as you

How even the maidens have ulterior moves most of the time

Daniela thinks it’s funny how innocent you are

When dirty jokes are made and you don’t understand, she could giggle for hours

When you eventually catch up, she adores your blush

[prodbyduusei]

Ac Shadows Review:

The Hype:

after begging ubisoft for YEARS!! to give us an Ac game set in japan?? we finally got what we wanted and they didn’t disappoint. the combat?? fire. stealth?? phenomenal. open world?? amazing. character customization?? *chefs kiss*. i have close to 300hrs in the game and most of my time was spent getting lost in the world of shadows. exploring every nook and cranny. fighting any enemy that was in my way, customizing naoe and yasuke. i was so immersed, i didn’t wanna put the controller down.

what i love about shadows:

◦ The Stealth:

the stealth is truly game changing, we finally have the option of not only going crouch?? but prone also. and on top that, when we hide in the shadows, enemies can’t see us. we can throw shurikens or kunai at certain light posts to create more shadows, which in turn gives us more room to sneak up on our enemies. speaking of the enemies, they’re very attentive to what goes on around them. especially when knocking out lights, which reminds me of the splinter cell games. i was a big fan of splinter cell conviction, so the fact they brought in elements from that game, to this one(shadows)is a great addition to an already great game. they even gave us the option to make sneaking around harder. by putting the difficulty to expert, enemies are a lot more aware of their surroundings. which means, that building you’re on top of?? they can see you and will react accordingly. so you can’t just run around pouncing on unsuspecting guards. you need to really think about your next plan of attack. on expert mode mind you. any other difficulty you’re pretty much free to jump on every enemy in your line of sight without much thought.

◦ combat

the combat is really good, but on expert difficulty?? that’s when the combat really shines. on normal mode, your opponents are jus…meh. however once you switch it to expert?? they become extremely aggressive and will even do things they normally dnt do on lower difficulties. i wish ubisoft would’ve implemented chained combat from ac3. that would’ve made the combat even more satisfying. there’s nothin wrong wit shadows combat, it jus needs some oomph. like, naoe’s fighting style for instance, depending on your weapon of choice?? she holds her sword backwards, so after she kills one guy, she throws her sword at another guy and uses, either her kusarigama or tanto to kill the next guy. that right there would make shadows combat much more engaging. i really hope ubisoft implements some type of chained takedown or chained combat.

◦ naoe/yasuke

i love naoe/yasuke. i love how you’re able to switch between the two, it would’ve been cooler if we were able to switch between characters on the fly. sumn similar to gta v. whoever wrote yasuke needs a raise, they could’ve easily put him in, for the sake of “oh he’s black”. no. they actually fleshed out his character, whenever you see or play as him. he lets the player know what he’s thinking. how he’s feeling. but naoe?? revenge, revenge, i want revenge…vengeance. like ight batman we get it. but more on that later.

◦ open world

So as I stated before the open world is pretty coo, the parkour is fire, but it is heavily underutilized in the open world, due to not much tall buildings or areas for you to utilize like in previous titles. the only time the parkour shines?? is when you’re climbing a castle or following those trails that lead to treasure. and you can’t go through woods or climb mountains in this game, unless ubisoft wants you to. it’s like they made a beautiful world, with a beautiful parkour system yet limited us for what exactly?? if that’s the case remove the open world from ac shadows. i really wish they removed the rpg element from this game and allowed us to fully explore the world and reword us for doing so.

you can sometime see ronin walking about, looking for yasuke or naoe, while i dnt mind seeing them out and about. it would be coo to see groups of them searching for you. not just on streets, but in cities, small towns, castles, forts etc etc. i’m not sure what made them decide to make every guard non hostile toward you. in every ac game, every guard hates the sight of you lmao. maybe they didn’t have time, but i hope with further updates or even a major overhaul we’ll get that.

more things i love, but i’ll keep it short, i love the character customization, building your own hideout and the option to engrave perks on your outfit/weapons. i really hope they give us an additional engraving, therefore we could really get crazy wit creating different builds.

ight, so everyone knows what i love about shadows, let’s get into what i dnt love about it.

what i dnt love about ac shadows:

◦ inconsistent stealth

hopefully it doesn’t sound like i’m contradicting myself, but as much as i love the stealth in this game?? there are times when it’s extremely inconsistent. one minute i’m hiding in shadows, getting ready to pounce on a enemy and for some odd reason?? i’m spotted. mind you i jus entered the castle or fort and someone has already spotted me. it dnt even be guards on the ground or in the surrounding area. it be a guard that’s far off somewhere. i even remember fast traveling to a castle one time, before i could get inside?? i’m already spotted. but not from the guards. by a random who again HASN’T EVEN SEEN ME!! it happens way too often and i hope it gets patched soon.

now as i mentioned before, if you put the difficulty for stealth on expert, enemies are more attentive…which means buildings aren’t all that safe to be on. i’m currently playing on normal difficulty. i’m creeping through a fort, taking my time pouncing on unsuspecting enemies. i get on top of a building and somehow…some way, the guy sees me. mind you we’re far away from each other, so how does that even happen. another instance of the stealth being inconsistent, again i’m sneaking through a fort, taking my time pouncing on guards, after i get through killing them?? the guard sees a dead body, but here’s the thing tho, i went into a photo mode—jus to see if it was noticeable and guess what?? YOU CAN’T EVEN SEE HIS BODY!! it’s like even on lower difficulties the enemy Ai will get smarter at random and start pullin bull moves, like seeing a dead body that’s not even in their pov or seeing me from a far away building. they dnt even respond to me whistling at times. they’ll react, make it seem like they’re gonna investigate and jus stop altogether. i feel like ubisoft intended for the stealth to be harder, but instead gave us an option—only for the enemy Ai to still be super smart.

◦ wonky controls

i won’t harp on this for long but the controls in this game is absolutely irritating. i’ve found myself turning the game off more times than i can count, for this reason alone. like there will be times where i wanna jump to the other side of a building, but instead of doing that?? naoe will just come to a complete stop. if not completely stop?? she’ll jus glitch out of the map and now i have to restart the game. because for some reason, naoe can’t jump to said building or go in the direction i want her to go in. what’s even worse, is that there’s no dedicated jump button. in every single ac game there’s a jump button. you know, a button for us to do a lil hop. or a button for us to jump on rooftop ledges or jump in general. nah that’s been completely removed. to make matters worse you can’t even change the controls to your liking. i dnt like the default controls, so i tried changing them to my liking, but in doing so it messes up the way ubisoft wants you to play. why can’t i change a few controls without them interfering wit the original controller input?? huh ubisoft?? why can’t i change sprint from L3 to R2 and the controls work fine afterwards?? give us the option to change the controls without it interfering with the original control input. i know i said i wouldn’t harp on this for long but geez man.

◦ scouts/guided mode

i’m not gonna hold you…this part of the game pissed me off. i played the entirety of shadows with guided mode off, which dnt get me wrong…made my experience much more immersive. however the scout system is horrible. i see the idea but it can be better. in its current form, they’ll tell you “he’s at location A, was in location B, he’s south from location B”. so i’m thinkin ight bet, let me look south of said location. ain’t there…whole time they mean he’s down the fucking street. like ubisoft…ubisoft. if you’re gonna get creative and implement a mode where you have to actually look for your target/targets?? make it simple. all you have to do is this. if my target is in yamashiro and i’m using scouts?? jus do this “target was in yamashiro. he was at the painting school. he’s somewhere in taisha shrine”. boom. simple. instead of sending us on a wild fuckin goose chase, sayin he’s south of so an so. whole time he’s really at this location. again the idea of the scout/guided mode isn’t bad, jus make it better. improve upon it.

◦ kunai assasination

i dnt like the kunai assasination perk. even tho they “fixed” it?? it still doesn’t work most of the time. jus have it be a skill you need to unlock and press r1/rb to throw a kunai. y’all had it right in ac mirage.

◦ the story

okay so i’m finna rip into the story, what some you guys are mainly here for. as much as i love ac shadows?? i absolutely hate the story, now yasuke’s part of the story?? phenomenal. naoe’s?? i jus dnt get it. how do you turn yasuke into a character wit depth, but make naoe a one note, one dimensional character?? i get that ac shadows is about revenge and forgiveness but it could’ve been far better than what we got. especially with TWO playable characters. we never find out what’s in the box, i dnt even think the game tells us who the shinbakufu was. jus 11 people for us to kill and for what?? over a box that they refused to show the player. if they would’ve shown us from the Onyro’s pov?? the first guy you kill?? that would’ve gave us, the player, all the more incentive in getting it back. but no. apparently the true story or ending is hidden behind the “claws of Awaji” dlc. speaking of the ending it left a bad taste in my mouth. again yasuke story ended beautifully. but naoe’s jus ended all of a sudden.

if ubisoft would’ve gotten rid of the non-linearity of shadows?? and gave us a traditional linear story, with an open world?? like red dead 2 or ghost of tsushima?? i believe ac shadows, the story, would’ve been much better. dnt get me wrong i’m extremely thankful they gave us the freedom of tackling the story any way we want. but it was extremely confusing. i remember i started a mission set to kill one of the shinbakufu, only to then start another mission. all because i had guided mode off and was lookin for some tea guy. so by me lookin everywhere for him?? it led me to a different mission, killing a different person. completely throwing me off. ac shadows should’ve had one main antagonist and split the rest for naoe and yasuke to kill. making their worlds intertwine with each other. instead of naoe getting tricked by the main antagonist to kill oda nobunaga, yasuke coming in to prevent the killing blow and by the power of friendship they’re best friends.

the side quests didn’t help the story much either and dnt even get me started on the romance options. what was the point of giving us people to romance?? what was the point of giving us side missions, that weren’t really side missions?? most of them were “kill this amount of bandits. kill this amount of ronin” wit the occasional traditional side quest, but it was alright at best.

◦ naoe/yasuke

as i mentioned before, i really love naoe and yasuke, wit yasuke being my favorite. even though i spent majority of the game playing as naoe. i stated how they made yasuke a deep and interesting character. whereas naoe?? sadly one dimensional and they can easily fix that, hear me out:

i believe ubisoft should do a complete overhaul of ac shadows, jus like how CI Games did with lords of the fallen. make ac shadows linear instead of non linear, bring back story sequences. show us what’s inside the box once the onyro take it from naoe.

yasuke story is about a man forgiving himself for the things he did and also wanting to protect those who can’t protect themselves.

naoe story should be about a woman so fueled by revenge, she loses sight of what’s important to her, after learning she killed junjiro dad, after learning how he hated her, wanted to kill her, but ultimately decided to learn mercy and forgive her?? she breaks the pattern/cycle of revenge and decides to focus on what’s important. which is building a relationship with junjiro, keeping those in which she cannot replace and protect people from the corrupt. which then ultimately ties in her and yasuke. they’ve had things taken away from them, they’ve had bad things happen to them also, but together they realize what truly matters, what it means to be a shinobi/ronin, an assassin/samurai.

instead of using meditation points as a means to give us flashbacks into her story?? have different mission sequences give us flashbacks. during a meditation activity, we find out naoe was kinda troubled after killing someone who was invading her village. so in a mission sequence, after she kills, lets say the horsemen?? it takes her back to when she froze after killing her first person. so in the present time, she’s frozen, panicked—she finally snaps out of it and the mission or story proceeds. you can still have meditation points, but have them serve as a means to teach her stillness, patience, teach her that her trauma is not her fault. boom. not only is naoe a character with depth like yasuke?? the overall story of ac shadows is that much better.

◦ outro/yapping

ac shadows is an amazing game with a lot of potential that can easily be improved upon, once ubisoft let go of the rpg, non-linear gameplay and focus on giving us, the players, a story focused game?? It’ll be that much better. i give ac shadows a solid 9/10. if they ever do a complete overhaul like lords of the fallen did?? i’ll give it a 10/10.

[driftward]

3) fully clothed x stark naked

For witchshield please!

For witchshield? Well, what can I do but oblige. Still making my way through the inbox, and as usual, the work is beneath the cut. Content warning: explicit sex happens

~*~

Y’shtola stepped out of the washroom, having finished her bath, still toweling herself dry. As she began to head towards the bedroom where her clothes were, she happened to look over and see Zoissette, not at all subtly pretending to be spying on her over the top of the book she was supposedly reading. Her eyes trailed slowly from Y’shtola’s head to her toes and back, before locking eyes with Y’shtola and pretending to have just been caught, moving the book up to hide her face.

Y’shtola stopped, and just laughed, crossing her arms to lean against the door frame.

“Will you never tire of these antics?”

“I am certain I do not know what you mean. Also, no.”

Y’shtola just shook her head. “It is well that I enjoy your attentions, but I feel I must needs point out that you see me near every day.”

Zoissette set the book aside, and held out a hand towards Y’shtola. Y’shtola pushed off the doorframe, setting the towel aside, and sauntered over, still nude, to where Zoissette was laying on the couch.

“I see the same ocean, the same mountains, the same plains, for days, sennights, moons in many places,” said Zoissette. “Every day, they are the same in the usual ways I expect. But also every day, they’re a little different. Usually in predictable ways. Sometimes in surprising ways. And every day, they are beautiful, too. So why not you?”

Y’shtola’s smile grew softer as she came close, taking Zoissette’s hands and moving to straddle her on the couch, sitting on her knees, her weight just below Zoissette’s ribs.

“You become poetic when you are feeling sentimental.”

Zoissette ran her hands gently up Y’shtola’s sides, from hip to arm and back down, detouring enough to flutter fingers on the counter of her breasts. “I am always poetic. I just usually keep it to myself. Nobody likes a boor.”

Y’shtola leaned forward a little to place her hands on Zoissette’s stomach. “As though I could ever find you such. But pray tell, what little ways do you see of me?”

Zoissette’s face softened. “Grace. Confidence. That you do not need me to tell me you that you are beautiful.” She picked up one of Y’shtola’s hands in her own, gently pressing a thumb into the palm. “That you move like a dream. That you stand straight and tall, in the face of every challenge. Intelligent, strong, every day, my Shtola.”

Y’shtola let out a little pleased ‘hmn!’. “And what of those things which change?”

“I think you are friendlier than you used to be. No, that is not quite it. More open, perhaps?”

“Such as I have learned from you.”

Zoissette let go, and ran her hand up Y’shtola’s arm, coming to cup her hand against a cheek. “Have you?”

“I am still wont to keep my own counsel, in the end.”

“And I would have it no other way, and could not even if I wanted to. Ever willful Y’shtola Rhul.”

Y’shtola laughed, and ran her fingers up Zoissette’s chest a little. “As if you did not know me well enough by now, and if you could not accept such, more the fool you.”

“But I do.”

“But you do, and so all is well.”

Zoissette rubbed Y’shtola’s cheek a little. Her eyes crinkled a little in wry amusement. “The gentle touch of time. The fine lines of crow’s feet,” and her other hand traced Y’shtola’s side, “some wrinkles for taste.”

Y’shtola huffed, annoyed, her ears folding back slightly as she now sat back and began to cross her arms. Zoissette sat up a bit, her reach giving chase.

“Well now. Perhaps I ought to be insulted.”

“No, no. Hear me out.”

Y’shtola frowned, but did not move further, and Zoissette reached around her. She smiled, an apologetic thing, as her fingers found the base of Y’shtola’s tail, and began to gently massage the sensitive muscles that existed where tail became spine.

“You are attempting to change the subject by mollifying me,” said Y’shtola, her voice going low, as her eyes half-fluttered shut seemingly of their own accord. Behind her, her tail waved back and forth.

“Mollify, a little bit. But, no. I do not want to change the subject. I want to be serious, for a moment.”

Y’shtola looked into Zoissette’s eyes, and she saw an unusual sternness in them.

“We are not young, Shtola. Nor are we yet old, but we do both near our fourth tenyear. I know you have your vanity-”

Y’shtola huffed.

“-and you have your ways. Forever twenty summers, indeed.”

“Merely guidance to live a life well.”

“Yes. I know. We have talked about it before. But we can maintain that vigor, that wonder of youth, and also accept that we are aging.”

“I am in no hurry to join Matoya as a wizened old crone.”

“And yet in Matoya’s countenance, the evidence of life lived. Rather than regret that we are no longer young, I want to celebrate that we are still alive. And I want to see the evidence of that, as it develops. I want… I want to see the lines on your face grow deep. The seasons of the shieldmaiden, as trees turn with the star, as the sands of time flow.”

“I am in no hurry to rush forward and meet the future.”

“Neither am I, but I do want to accept it, as it meets us.”

Deft fingers continued to massage Y’shtola’s tail muscles, and she had to admit, it was very nice. The feeling was radiating out from there, just a plain sense of simple pleasantness, flowing through her body. She uncrossed her arms so they could support her as she leaned forward.

“You call it vanity, but I maintain my appearance for myself and none other. I exult in it, as it is not only a celebration of myself, but a demonstration of my skill in living my life as I see fit.”

“I know. I am not talking about trying to please the eyes of others, but being satisfied with what we see ourselves. You are beautiful to me, and I do not think that will ever change. I do not think that it can.”

Zoissette flexed her fingers, now, scratching. Y’shtola curved her back into it, and made a soft, satisfied noise, bringing her hands forward, to knead gently at Zoissette’s chest.

“And there is still much here to exult in yet,” said Y’shtola.

“I never said there was not. In fact, I think I am trying to say the opposite. I celebrate it, all of it.”

Zoissette dropped her hands, to cup Y’shtola’s ass on either side with a squeeze. Y’shtola walked her hands up, up Zoissette’s chest. She pulled herself forward, until she could comfortably lean on Zoissette’s shoulders.

Gods, she was so much muscle.

“And though our lives are joined now, our early experiences were very different,” said Zoissette, her voice not quite unhappy, but definitely quiet. “I was dead in my twenties, Shtola. Killed in my thirties.” Zoissette shifted, fingers back in the cluster of tail muscles, now, and Y’shtola arched her back, feeling fingerprints of pressure push deep against her muscle. She murred, and the end of her tail twitched with the luxury of attention. “Only as I see my fourth tenyear do I feel like I am remembering to age again.”

Y’shtola placed a hand gently on Zoissette’s cheek, and pushed herself forward, again, this time far enough she had to crawl a bit, until she could comfortably bring the two of them together, and gave her the gentlest and softest of kisses, slow, tender.

One of Zoissette’s hands wandered up the side of her stomach, and fingers played along a breast. Y’shtola made a gentle noise of appreciation.

They separated, and Y’shtola played her fingers through Zoissette’s hair as Zoissette treated her with a small smile.

“You have near made your case,” she said, gently tapping Zoissette on the nose. “Long though our path has been, and not without difficulty. You would remember our age. I would remind you of what vigor you yet have.”

“The two are not exclusive.”

Y’shtola’s tail swayed, slow. Carefully.

“Prove it.”

Zoissette laughed, and pulled Y’shtola down, and they kissed, once more. Y’shtola, bare and naked in the air, Zoissette still in her outfit of the day. Zoissette placed her hands on Y’shtola’s bottom, and pulled her gently, even as Zoissette tried to move herself further down the couch. It took a few moments for them to figure one another out, but shortly Zoissette was rather more directly beneath Y’shtola, and Y’shtola was nearly sitting on Zoissette’s face.

Zoissette’s hands moved to Y’shtola’s hips, strong and firm, and she positioned her to exactly where she wanted her to be. Y’shtola, her legs bent, on her knees so she could more easily control how much weight she brought to bear, allowed herself to be lowered.

And then the kiss, lips meeting. Y’shtola used one arm to steady herself, and the other hand she reached up, to cup her own breast, to knead her fingers into its flesh while Zoissette’s tongue explored her crevasse.

It was quiet in the room. This was not, despite their banter, a moment of vigor and heat. Passion, to be sure, but a slow, patient passion, as Zoissette’s head mouth tongue lips made slow, carefully measured movements. A long slow lick against the labia. The firm push of lips. A kiss to the clitoral hood before retreating again. Y’shtola lifted her head, closing her eyes, facing heaven, while she tried to buck her hips against Zoissette. But despite the far superior leverage she should have been able to exercise, it was Zoissette who was controlling the experience. The firm grip of her hands and press of her fingers informing Y’shtola where she wanted her, and Y’shtola obliging willingly.

A long, slow way of making love. Zoissette only periodically having to tilt her head back to take a breath, before plunging in again. Y’shtola feeling the building of the waves, beginning to push back a bit more, and Zoissette letting her, letting go of control. Y’shtola bucking her hips further. Curling over herself. A moment of not knowing what to do with her hands. Take Zoissette’s hair in them? Take control of stimulating her own clit with her fingers? Keep a hand free to maintain her balance?

None of it mattered, and all of it was lost, as the first full wave pulsed up through her spine and was released from her mouth, as she cried out. In the end, she kept her balance by pressing her fingers through Zoissette’s hair, fingers intwined and tips bearing into her scalp as though her life depended on it, and perhaps it did.

She took several deep gasps, finding herself again, and Zoissette pushed her hips up just a bit, tilting her head so she could breath, so she could speak.

“This is a terrible way to continue a conversation,” she said.

Y’shtola laughed breathlessly. “Are you certain? I fair believe you have made quite the convincing argument.”

“Hmn,” said Zoissette. “Closing statements.”

She pulled her back down, and Y’shtola almost pushed off of her just to be an imp about the matter. But then her tongue was in her again, and oh, the talent that tongue had. Experienced, it knew Y’shtola well.

And while it was strong, and its initial foray eager, it quickly slowed, showing patience, stamina, determination. All those qualities that Y’shtola loved in Zoissette, and loved in their love-making, and it was not long until her eyes were rolled back and she was riding the building pressure again. Zoissette was taking her time, going slow, but not allowing it to ebb at all. Meeting small not quite waves, building them up, and letting them out slow.

The next wave was a crash, and Y’shtola was near certain this one had killed her. As it subsided, and she could hear Zoissette gasping for breath beneath her once more, she allowed herself to be free, to lose herself, to laugh in a moment of true openness.

She let go of Zoissette’s hair, and this time, she did push away, and Zoissette let her go. She shifted, to use Zoissette as a bed, and held herself tight against her, still giggling between breaths.

Zoissette petted a hand through her hair. “I did not think I was that funny,” she said.

Y’shtola just shook her head. “Forgive me, I know not what comes over me,” she said. But she was still smiling, as she rested her head on Zoissette’s chest. “Perhaps it is the culmination of this argument, and the proof is not merely in your words but in your tongue. Perhaps it is the practice that comes with age - and in putting it to use, you make me feel so young.”

Zoissette kissed the top of her head, and she curled up.

“Or mayhaps it is that I must needs shower, again, as someone interrupted me on my way to finding my clothes.”

“I apologise,” said Zoissette. She did not sound at all apologetic.

Y’shtola brought up a hand, to walk two fingers up Zoissette’s chest. “Well. I am not sure I am fully convinced. But, I think on one thought, we can agree.”

She pushed herself up, and looked down at Zoissette, running a hand through her hair fondly.

“I look forward to growing old with you.”

Zoissette pulled Y’shtola’s hand out of her hair so that she could turn her head and kiss its palm.

“That is all I can ask.”

“You may ask for that, and still more. And I may yet deliver it to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Always. Now, though, I find that as this bliss fades a bit, I am rather cold, and shall be taking that wash. This time, might you let me actually get to my clothes?”

“Maybe.”

Y’shtola laughed, a youthful, joyful thing, and she pulled herself off Zoissette, and headed to the washroom.

[the-elusive-soleil]

My standard headcanon, which I do very much like, is that Elrond and Elros are essentially curse/doom kryptonite because of Luthien mojo, Tuor-blessed-by-Ulmo mojo, etc. But it occurred to me that there could be another possibility, and I don't have time to fully write it, so y'all can run wild with it:

What if, around the time Elrond and Elros have to make the Choice of the Peredhil, they're also told that they have to choose whether to be counted as (half) Noldor or Sindar? (For right now, we'll assume Elros also has to make this choice, even though he's going to be living as a human, because it will affect how he sets up his kingdom and who he can ally with.)

The thing is, ever since they joined up with the Host of the West, they've been confusing the snot out of everybody. They look like Luthien's line. They've been raised by Feanorians for, let's say, the past forty-odd years, and it's in their mannerisms, their clothes, the way they fight. They switch, sometimes apparently at random, between using Earendilion, Nelyafinwion, or Kanafinwion as patronymics. In a camp that is ostensibly all one army, but under the surface is positively rife with different factions, they insist on making friends with people from everywhere.

The Valar are getting confused, too: what exactly are they supposed to do with these two, with their absolute trail mix of heritages?

So Eonwe or whoever finally tells them that they have to choose. Either they can be Sindar and have the friendship of Oropher's people, go by Earendilion (or maybe Elwingion, to be safe) and never speak Quenya or wear the Star of Feanor again, but have the blessing of Luthien...or they can be Noldor, and stay in touch with the people and customs they've lived most of their lives with at the expense of associating with their mother's people. Also, in that case, they'll definitely fall under some kind of doom, but it won't be so bad if they declare themselves as Nolofinwean through Idril, rather than Feanorian by adoption.

Obviously, their first response would be to be stubborn and difficult and rules-lawyering, and not choose at all. And that would be really fun to see. But say they couldn't. Say they had to choose. What then?

Let's say they split the difference. Does Elros choose to be counted as (metaphysically and by origin) Sindar so that his kingdom can thrive, and then quietly keep Elrond and Maglor and (assuming he's survived) Maedhros under his aegis so their doom can't catch up with them? Does Elrond take this on instead, since he's the designated immortal one, and try to find some way to keep in close enough touch with his brother and fathers to pass along some of his luck? How well does this work? What happens to Numenor if its first king is carrying a family curse? What happens to Elrond if he's the cursed one, trying to dodge his way through the successive ages of the world once his brother is gone?

Or let's say they both embrace the Noldor side, just to pull the rug out from under everyone who thinks they'll take this chance to ditch the people who raised them. Presumably it doesn't get as bad as it does for, say, Turin, but how bad does it get? How do they deal with the guilt crises that Maglor and Maedhros absolutely will have over this? How long does Numenor last (or does it fall in exactly the same time and manner as in canon, just with people blaming something different)? Does Rivendell exist at all? What do the Second, Third, Fourth Ages look like now?

Or let's say, for whatever reason you like, that they choose their Sindar side. Maybe because it's a side of themselves that they never got to fully explore, and they don't want to give it up out of hand. Maybe in an attempt to keep the people around them safe. Maybe because they have just a bit of foresight and see that they'll be needed in certain roles in the future and this is the best way. Maybe because Maglor and Maedhros have taken the Silmarils and vanished, and the twins think their adoptive family doesn't want them anyway. What does that look like? How do they reconcile their new lives with their old ones? How many habits do they have to break that they didn't even realize would be looked on with suspicion? How bad is the culture shock, and how long until it wears off?

Assuming they choose, how much do you think they try to fudge it, aiming for a sneaky blend of both? How well does it work? Are the attempts an open, amused secret? Or do they try and fail, over and over again, until they realize that whatever they chose is set into the fabric of reality just as their choices between Man and Elf altered something deep in them?

How will the parent(s) they didn't choose to follow react when, inevitably, they all meet again?

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Don't mind me, nerding out a bit here because historical context and textiles my beloved

So it looks like there are 4 pieces here, and from the size of them, they look like bed/body linens for wrapping?

It looks like there are 2 mid size pieces, one small, and one large, so maybe it was a wrap dress or set of blankets?

But the thing that's making me lose my mind is the wear and tear in that second photo.

See how the linens are so well-woven when looked at folded? Thick, dense fibers, creating bulk, trapping air pockets, clean even lines of the warp and weft...

The second photo isn't a picture of flaws in the weaving, it's a picture of a hemmed fabric panel whose wear has been repaired, reinforced, and reduced over time.

You can see the selvage on it has what almost looks like a cord sewn along the fray? That's (likely) where the panel was hemmed with a double line stitch to control edge disintegration from heavy handling or rough use. So probably something that trailed along the floor or was frequently physically manipulated/strained during use.

Our sewer was practical, and minimalist. They didn't bother to do a second double stitch hem at the TOP of the hem fold. So over time, the selvage edge drooped, frayed, tore, but the primary hem got reinforced as needed and maintained the panel's integrity for LITERALLY THOUSANDS OF YEARS. You can see the same selvage fraying on the largest panel, making it look fluffy at the edge. Sometimes this is done on purpose for functional/stylistic reasons, however typically in that case we would see finger-knotwork at or near the base of the frayed selvage.

On top of it, the second picture shows the way the fabric wears out with time. Those scar-like tears and gaps in the fabric are what happens when fabric is handled and manipulated (especially *rubbed*) repeatedly in the presence of skin oils. The same death inevitably awaits all my Frankenpinchies because eventually my favorite "rolling" spots on the fabric wear out the fibers, abrade the weave, and disolve fibers that become disconnected from the structural lattice of the weave. I'll patch them once, but typically RE-patching a spot like this is tough, and darning would be the more appropriate long term choice. The fabric panel in photo 2 is due for darning, from the looks of those stretch marks and abrasions, and the fibers overall have worn thin enough that it's likely this fabric was A) well loved, and B) on its last legs. Possibly a piece of finery being preserved and passed down across generations, or a beloved childhood piece maintained into adulthood. I could maybe manage 1-2 more darns on this, and a more skilled textile repair person could probably keep it alive for another 5 or so? But at a certain point it becomes less work to just weave new fabric (unless of course the fabric is particularly precious in some way).

Linens are typically plant fibers, so my guess is this was a threshed fiber plant that was particularly valuable or treasured, thus justifying the work put into keeping it in good condition.

My guess is that the bulk of the wear we see now is actually from preservationist and museum work. See how the panels are kept carefully folded and stored? It looks like the worst wear is on the fold lines, and my guess is that as the fabric aged and the fibers became more brittle, the weave began to suffer from being folded and unfolded, and lost the reinforcement and structure it had gotten during historic repairs. And yet! And yet! Even as clearly as age has weakened it and made it vulnerable to further damage, I can **feel** the bulk of these panels under my fingers. How skilled a weaver, how precious a piece must have been behind this precious window through time, that the fabric still looks as if I could snuggle up under it on my couch in a rainstorm and smell the generations of snuggliness it had gifted over the years. What a treasure! What a resilient little piece of someone's life!

It doesn’t look that exciting, but this linen is from the New Kingdom (ca. 1492–1473 B.C.)

Thinking about it for too long makes me feel absolutely insane.