#✰*∙ ⎯ balancing on breaking branches ⎨ queue ⎬

[cafegraces]

@starlcved continued from x.

she's been sick with worry every day since she'd first noticed the way the color seemed to be leeching out of the edges of his aura, the area that fluctuated depending on someone's mood. as horrible as it had been to see him lying there, to watch something happening to him and be unable to do anything about it, she equally could not bring herself to deny when they asked her to make observations. it had been her only means of assuring herself that he remained alive, at least in some capacity. despite the terrifying change, the core of his aura remained strong, that had to mean he was alright. when they'd finally told her he'd woken, she'd hoped by some miracle that they gray effect had been somehow linked to his state of unconsciousness, but the concerned whisper escapes her lips when she finds him alert and the effect remains. she watches with growing horror as he tries to use his empathic abilities, noting the flare of focused energy pulse from the center of his aura, and fails to connect. the magnitude of the loss is something she can't fathom, tears now burning in the corners of her eyes. her throat is thick, but she forces her voice to remain steady, not wanting to upset him further. " it's... it's faded to gray all around the edges, " she whispers, one hand passing through the air around him, right through the colorless edge, while the other reaches for his shaking one. " i was so worried when it first started... i thought you were dying. " her hand closes tightly around his, taking in a shaking breath. " i don't know what it means, zig, i'm sorry. but we can figure it out together, now that you're awake. it's going to be okay. " it wasn't okay, none of it. but at least he was still here, at least they were still together.

[dantakeyoman]

the, “his secret mate.” part in your fic where she took the bullet from neteyam had me tearing up huhuhu can we get the detail of their intimacy in relationship before that war? not always to be nsfw, but fluff with full of lovesick moments aarghhwbd

You and Neteyam Mate In Secret (Slight-NSFW / Comfort)

Prologue of "You Take The Bullet"

CW: nsfw implied ( and a little described ), right after his second birth ( he is now a tribe-observed man, and part of the People ), you and Neteyam are so in love, kinda magical ngl, reminder that Utral Aymokriyä is the place Jake and Neytiri mated, Neteyam is a consent king

"You skxawng! Where are you taking me?" you laughed, Neteyam's hand in yours as he ran through the forest with you, his trademark smile plastered on his face.

"You'll see," he teased, jumping off a large tree root and landing on the mossy ground.

You did your best to keep up, jumping as well, but you landed off balance, and were about to fall.

Neteyam noticed this and quickly turned around, yanking you toward him so you landed in his chest, instead of the mud.

You sighed, pulling your face out of his pecs, and resting on it instead.

You were tired.

This man had made the both of you sprint from Hometree, all the way to....wherever here was.

Technically, the both of you weren't even supposed to be out right now.

Neteyam had just had his Second Birth, and was supposed to be spending it with the People.

But through the commotion, he managed to sneak the both of you out.

"I must show you something. Come!" his words echoed in your head.

If Neteyam wanted to sneak out, then it must be something incredibly important.

"Irayo," you panted, breathless as you took your quick break.

A dark tint of blue rested on his cheeks as he nodded, his hands instinctively going to rest on your hips.

"Kea tìkin," he assured, averting his eyes from you so you could not see his blush.

Noticing the slight purple-ish glow that was shining from behind him, you lifted your head, peeking over his shoulder and gasping at the sight.

Utral Aymokriyä.

"Oh, Neteyam!" you gasped, quickly breaking from the hug and walking over to the large tree.

It stood tall, and proud, like the might of thousands lay hiding in it's branches.

Despite being Omaticaya, you had never been to this place. Though you had constantly told Neteyam how you dreamed of doing so one day.

Out-stretching your arms, you walked toward the base of the tree, smiling as you allowed all of it’s tendrils to rake over you, softly.

Neteyam did the same, but not without letting his gaze linger on you.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you experience the tree in wonder.

You were adorable.

The tree bathed you in purple light, accentuating your every feature.

Your beauty was a sight to behold, that was what caught his attention first. 

Your face was sculputure-like, ethereal.

Even if he were to stare at your face for hours, he wouldn’t be able to find a single thing wrong. 

You laughed, dancing with a tendril of the tree as if it were another person.

And your voice. It came out so smooth and silky, like his favorite song on repeat.

Sitting down on the ground, you rested your hands on the ground, shutting your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the beautiful energy the tree was emitting.

It wasn’t just your physical features, either.

It was the way you carried yourself, the way you were strong, and tough, yet soft and kind for your people and Pandora.

You had this man weak in the knees every time you crossed paths, and it was getting to the point where it was affecting his day-to-day life.

All he thought of was you. Eat, sleep, breathe, repeat. You.

You were a distraction, but a beautiful one. One that deserved to be protected by every ounce of his being.

"My mother took me here when I was no older than a baby," Neteyam started, walking over and sitting down next to you.

"She said this was a place for prayers to be heard. ....And sometimes answered."

He took his queue, making tsaheylu with a soft sigh, before turning back to you, who was watching him in peaceful, silent awe.

It made him blush.

You did the same, a soft gasp leaving you lips as you shut your eyes, the songs and chants of past peoples dancing through your ears, as clear as day.

When you opened your eyes again, Neteyam chuckled at your child-like expression, your mouth slightly gaped in wonder.

“I can hear them,” you nodded, eyes trained on the tendril you were bonded with.

Neteyam disconnected the bond, and looked up at the mighty tree, your gaze burning holes into his face.

"My mother told me that now I am truly one of the People, I can make my bow out of the wood of Hometree.....and choose a woman," he cheesed, the thought of you being his mate bringing a smile to his face.

But you did not think the same.

Oh. He has already chosen.

You expression fell, but you did your best to keep your smile happy.

"Who are you going to choose? We have many good women for a future Olo'eyktan," you tearfully recommended, a quiet gasp leaving you lips as a atokirina floated down to you, resting in your palms.

Neteyam snapped his head over to you, confused.

What in the world are you talking about?

"Eyati is a good hunter."

"I do not want Eyati," he quickly shut down, looking at you intently.

Lovingly.

"Oh," you nodded. He didn't want a huntress, then.

"Ilyena is a good dancer."

Neteyam internally facepalmed.

You were not understanding.

He thought he was being quite obvious with his admiration.

His frequent touches, talking of finding a woman, taking you to a spot where people literally go to mate.

You were the only one he wants. The only one he could ever want.

What else would he have to do to get that through your head?

Once the atokirina flew away, you returned your hand to the earth, where Neteyam smoothly interlocked his with yours.

"I do not think you are understanding. I have already chosen," he smiled, looking down at your conjoined hands.

"Oh," you sighed, averting your eyes from him. "Who is the lucky woman?"

Oh, for Eywa's sake.

He groaned, cupping your face in his hand and turning you to face him, where he roughly landed his lips on yours, practically knocking the wind out of you.

At first, you were shocked. All this talk of women, and now he was kissing you?

But you decided to let a good thing be.

You kissed back, matching his roughness as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His hands immediately went to your waist, resting his hands on your hips as he pulled out from the kiss, staring at you like a lovesick fool.

And his heart seemed to pick up speed when he saw that you were looking at him the exact same way, a beautiful smile on your face.

It seems you liked it better when he showed, not told.

He would remember that for the future.

"(y/n), it is you. You are the woman I have chosen. I cannot think of anyone better to be at my side," he beamed, switching his gaze to the glowing tendrils around him, along with the many atrokirina that decided to make an arrival.

"Do you not see? Eywa has chosen us for each other."

You were on the verge of happy tears.

You had loved this man for so, so, so long, and so hard. And to hear that he has loved you with the same intensity, if not more, was something that warmed you from the inside out.

"I see you, my Neteyam," you smiled, cupping his face in your hands, resting your forehead on his.

"I see you, my love," he smiled back, giving your lips a peck.

It wasn't enough.

As he pulled back, you chased him, attaching your lips once more, throwing your arms over his shoulders.

He groaned, his hands softly caressing your hips as he kissed back with just as much fervor.

"My Neteyam," you sighed, trailing your kisses from his lips, down to his jawline.

He understood your quiet plea, shifting his position so he sat on his knees, before lifting you into his lap.

With this new angle, he peppered your chest with loving, heavy kisses, making you sigh once more.

You raked your hands through his hair, one sensually trailing down his braid and carefully holding up his kuru.

Using your other hand, you found yours, and were about you connect them when Neteyam stopped you.

"My love, are you sure? We do not have to do this if you are not ready," he asked, firmly.

Don't get him wrong. He wanted do to this more than anything in the world.

Having you in his arms, kissing him like this, was his greatest dream come true.

But just because it was his, did not mean it was yours.

And he wanted you to do this of your own volition.

"I am ready, Neteyam. I have always been ready," you assured, resting your forehead on his as you landed another heavy kiss on his lips.

With that, he nodded, and you made tsaheylu.

And the moan you two set loose surely reached the stars.

The feeling that enveloped the both of you was too much.

You could feel everything the other was feeling perfectly. Their heartbeat, their longing, their love.

Oh, the feeling of Neteyam's love was flooding your senses so much it was overwhelming.

Every piece of exposed skin he touched burned with fiery heat, but it felt so, so good.

You had no idea he loved you to this extent.

And as he lay you down on the mossy ground, him placing feather-light kisses across your exposed chest, the vision of children flashed through your head.

His vision.

They were your children, the kids running around the tent as the two of you lay in the corner, curled into each other.

Even in a moment so intimate, even as he entered you, his thoughts still traveled to something so wholesome and domestic.

It made you blush uncontrollably, and he sensed this.

"I....hnngh...see you, my (y/n). And there...fuck....is no one else I can see to be the mother of my children...shit...," he said huskily, peppering kisses on your shoulder with each thrust.

As tears welled in your eyes, you tightened your grip around his neck, another moan escaping you lips.

"I see you....ohhh!....my Neteyam," you sighed, bringing your hands to rest on his chest.

But for the first time, the both of you felt like that word didn't express enough.

Your love for each other expanded farther than just I see you, it was indescribable.

There was no Na'vi word for it.

But there was an English one.

One Jake had taught both of you, respectfully.

"I love you!" the two of you exclaimed in unison as you finished together, Neteyam making his final thrust.

And as you both lay on the ground, intertwined, coming down from your high, Neteyam said something that made you feel all the happiness in the world.

"I am with you now, (y/n)," he sighed, a tired smile on his face.

"We are mated for life."

[bakersstreetirregulars]

Studio Memo, 5/13/24

Weekly Hours

The results of the candidate’s interview are being processed.

The Dimensional Observatory has opened on the third floor of the Cookie Herald’s Parfaedia branch studio to assist with operations being conducted by the Time Balance Department.

Lemon-Lime Meringue Cookie claims to recall that Stormbringer Cookie was the cause of him gaining mastery over lightning magic after being struck by a lightning bolt in the Vanilla Kingdom two years ago. Validity unknown until we hear from Stormbringer Cookie.

Operations in all our studios have seized up over the week of 5/6 due to a fire started in a field research facility in the Dragon’s Valley that disabled our communications. Containment of the fire before it could spread has been designated as the main priority. Multiple files were lost in the fire.

Daily reports from Headings A and C have been decided in the last Open Board Meeting as priorities.

——————————

CROB - Clash of Dragonkind

Fire safety measures have been increased for half 2/2 for operations in the area this month, starting tonight at 8 PM EST. Finish part 1 and Marble Bread Cookie’s trial before then.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie and Ananas Dragon Cookie have been placed in a priority queue for examination in the Crepe Archives despite counterarguments over the severely lacking Crystal budget for an operation of this caliber. Counter-counterarguments from our resident Second Floor Detective Heavy Cream Cookie claim that there is no new Cookie to consider for this second part.

——————————

CRK - Powers Beheld Beyond Cacao

Examination of Stormbringer Cookie in the Crepe Archives has been moved to a separate queue as a result of the Dragon’s Valley incident. Unknown if subject to delays due to breaking a login streak. Edit, 5/14 - Will be delayed.

Other activities regarding Project [Heaven-Splitting Lightning] have been canceled due to the fire in Dragon’s Valley destroying relevant notes from the two Cake Towers. Some relevant takeaways recovered from the written drafts are as follows

Hall of Ancient Heroes Disciple slot turnover time reduced (5d -> 2d)

Wizard Cookie’s skill now does Electric damage and inflicts Zap

Blueberry Pie Cookie’s Magic Candy buffs Cookies with the Electricity element (Current Charge) and does more overall damage when using “Sealed Power” including a Zap debuff

Twizzly Gummy Cookie’s Magic Candy grants increased CRIT DMG and stacks Zap for increased damage output

Silverbell Cookie’s Soulstones and Mercurial Knight Cookie’s Soulstones have been added to the Mileage Shop

A new report on Beast Cookie - [Mystic Flour Cookie] has come to our attention from the Dark Cacao Kingdom outpost. The news has been relayed to the Moontide Republic branch studio through Frosted Strawberry Shortcake Cookie. The expedition is expected to depart soon.

——————————

CRWC - Next Shelf

Levels 1101 to 1150 have been added with a new Special Story about the Shadow Witch.

File organization on past activity in the Castle branch studio has been relayed to the Vanilla Kingdom branch.

Strawberry Crepe Cookie has put their own requisition for self-analysis forward. We have yet to hear back from either branch on this matter.

[sinchchatlayer]

Ways chatbots can help bank customers

In the modern, busy life, no one likes to stand in long queues to complete their banking operations. Hence, in increasing number of individuals are shifting to net banking, mobile making, and chatbot banking. The use of chatbots in banking allows customers to perform a variety of financial transactions simply through their smartphone, without much of a hassle. Banks can considerably improve their customer satisfaction rates with the assistance of chatbots.

Conversational Chatbot powered by AI particularly aids in providing exceptional customer services as it is available 24x7, and does not need a break like any typical employee. These bots can be used for:

Money transfer: Customers may pay their bills, track monetary transactions, as well as set or cancel payments through bots. It can also be used to pay off credit card bills.

Answer basic questions: Chatbots can answer a number of basic questions in regard to banking products or the accounts of the customers.

Provides on-time notifications and reminders: A large number of banks use bots to provide timely reminders and regular notifications to the customers. Frequent reminders are usually sent for last-day offer of loans, bill payment deadlines, and more. All these reminders largely intend to keep the customers aware and well-informed.

Check account balance: Customers may ask chatbots to provide the details of their bank account balance. These bots may even alert the customers in case their account balance is in danger of falling below the minimum balance.

Provides complete account details: In addition to their account balance, customers can also get details of their money transfer limits, card reward points, recurring payments and expenses, and so on, through chabots. Recovering account details and making simple changes like updating the current address or phone number becomes simpler with bots.

Find the nearest branch: Chatbots can be used to instantly find the nearest branch location. Some chatbots can ideally track the location of the customer through mobile GPS, thereby providing a highly accurate answer. If the GPS facility is not available, then bots may identify the nearest location based on the pin code of the customers.

Broadly speaking, chatbots in the banking industry can be highly effective in helping out customers with issues that are non-complex yet urgent. These issues may range from checking bank statements and completing fund transfers to unlocking or locking cards. Banks can seek out the assistance of any renowned AI Chatbot Companyto create a powerful bot for their organization.

[nemowrites]

okay so a very belated Tuesday update, but tomorrow is Tuesday so it kinda counts?

Anyhow I basically wanted to talk about a couple of things.

first thing being that unfortunately I couldn’t meet the deadline for incandescent dance, which I really wanted to post on Halloween, I truly did try but as per usual my brain decided to expand the concept and the story of each individual characters to the point where I couldn’t finish it on time even tho I worked on it a lot the past couple of weeks and I didn’t want to just post it while I’m not content with it if that makes sense, so I’ll probably keep working on it and post it when it’s ready.

second thing being that I’ll probably be less active for two/three weeks, maybe more depending on the circumstances, due to having a lot of work to do in my part-time volunteering internship and the fact that big changes are happening in regards to it, so I’ll be a tad busy with that, and mainly because I’m trying to balance a lot of real life responsibilities and things I need to do and because I’m kinda sorta maybe getting burned out, so yeah, this’ll be a “getting my life together” break to sum this up, I might be online here and there and queue some posts but yeah that’s that.

last thing is that I want to layout the plans for the free time that I do happen to get during these “getting my life together” weeks, I know they won’t be much but I’ll finish what I can when I have time, there plans being:

Frostford’s Mystery:

Finish some chapter one scenes.

Add the ability to use custom pronouns.

Rework some things in the stats system.

Work more on world-building and how the story ties in with the timeline of stories I’m trying to create.

Introduce the rest of the team/major characters because I’m an impatient clown.

Miscalculated:

Finish the pastry scene that’s taking far too long due to the branching (derogatory).

Introduce two major characters.

Work on the game settings (fonts and their sizes, glitching backgrounds etc.).

Compose a soundtrack and sound effects that fit the game.

Incandescent Dance:

Finish up the stories of each individual character.

Hopefully finish the story? (Ha, I wish)

Add the ability to use a normal font instead of the default cursive one.

Music and miscellaneous:

Haven’t done a musical shenanigans post in a while, mainly because I can no longer upload mp3 files on here so that a hassle, but I’ll try and figure out something.

Have been playing around with artbreeder for a while, so maybe I could post some of the things I made.

There has been a tool I’m working on for a while that would help IF authors and is currently in development so yeah, that’s that.

Oh and also contact the winners for the 600 followers gift, I truly am sorry for taking too long but I’m trying to currently balance everything.

Empty out my broken ask box that for some reason doesn’t send notifications now, just to make my life harder ya know :)

And yeah, that about sums it up, I surly won’t be able to finish all of that in the span of a couple of weeks but this is mainly to do in my free time (which I’ll hopefully have) so yeah, have an awesome week y’all! <3

[soft-dyke-omo]

Omovember in August - Day 1: Desperate In A Vehicle

Pairing: Supercorp

If you’ve somehow stumbled upon this fic not knowing what omorashi is despite me not tagging the pairing - it’s about Lena pissing herself. Twice. Don’t look.

As she sat there, stewing in her own misery and the awkward silence that permeated the car, feeling another sharp pulse from her bladder that decided that actually, it hadn’t had enough the first time it emptied into her pants about ten minutes ago, Lena felt it was safe to assume this was one of the worst days of her life.

Certainly the day hadn’t begun as awful as it ended – it had begun rather serenely, with Kara sprawled halfway across her chest, snoring gently. Her girlfriend had always been a starfish sleeper. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to wake her for a good thirty minutes – not after all she’d been through the day before. Non-stop emergencies, rogue aliens, blowing out her powers...when Alex had told her to make sure Kara gets a nice, stress-free day to recuperate or die trying, she hadn’t hesitated a second to swear to do so.

And so Kara and her had compiled a list – things they’d always wanted to do, but hadn’t yet been able to because of superpowers or a strict Luthor upbringing. Truth be told, it was mostly Kara supplying the ideas, and Lena trusting her, completely, because even if the experience of laser tag sounded a lot like “sweaty people playing with toy guns in the dark” and she failed to see the appeal of it, she’d always say yes to spending more time with her girlfriend.

So they took Alex’ car for the day (“not a dent, Alex, I promise!”) and they were off to the races.

And Lena was ready to admit that maybe she’d judged Kara’s ideas too harshly. There was something about just letting go for a day and letting Kara win her stuffed animals at a fun fair, consuming copious amounts of slushies (maybe too many, but what was a lesbian to do when Kara insisted on kissing it better every time she got brain freeze) and giving into her competitive streak to absolutely eviscerate an unpowered Kara at laser tag.

Maybe she should have known better. Because “best of three” quickly turned into “best of five”, and then “please just one more round Lena”, even though the slushies in her bladder definitely started making themselves known by now.

“One more round”, she agreed, shifting her balance from foot to foot. “But then we need to go.”

Then I need to go.

The one more round turned out far harder than it had seemed at face value, because now Lena had to deal with getting distracted by the insistent signals her bladder kept sending. Normally it was easier to anticipate Kara’s next move, her being the type to charge in heroically and ask questions later, but now she had to factor in regular breaks to cross her legs and compose herself. Why on earth did she let it get so bad in the first place? Okay. She had to concentrate. The laser tag arena was littered with brightly coloured obstacles to crouch under or take cover behind, broken up only by one main lane straight down the middle and two smaller lanes circling around the area in its entirety. Usually these smaller lanes were where Kara liked to attack from the most, but during their most recent plays she’d started to branch out a bit more. Lena had to be on guard.

There! A flash of blonde hair, about 15 metres away. Her girlfriend was keeping lookout with great concentration, even from so far away Lena could see the furrow in her brow. She was also slowly stalking her way over to were Lena was ducked behind cover. Immediately she threw herself into the shadow of a larger object that would give her a better chance at ambushing Kara – she regretted her decision at once as the impact jostled her bladder and she felt herself leak for just a fraction of a second.

She blanched, drawing her knees to her chest and holding herself with one hand as her bladder continued to pulse painfully. Shit, please not again. She wasn’t keen on reliving the incident of her first date with Kara, where she’d wet herself at the dinner table. She cringed in humiliation at the memory, even though Kara had assured her time and time again that it was okay, and she didn’t think any less of her for having an accident. Well, Kara might not, but Lena definitely did. And the prospect of a second accident so soon after the first chilled her to the bone – God, Kara would think her incontinent.

Lena grit her teeth and rocked against her hand as subtly as she could until the urge subsided enough for her to trust herself to take her hand away. At least she couldn’t yet feel a wet spot on her pants. Now she just had to get her head back in the game-

“Gotcha!”

Lena jumped in surprise when she saw Kara towering over her, triumphant, pretending to blow smoke off of the toy gun, Lena’s vest beeping to signal she’d lost this round.

“I told you I could do it! You should have seen your face!”, she cheered, and, as Lena still hadn’t gotten up yet, added: “Are you okay, baby?”

Lena swallowed dryly, thanking whatever gods were looking out for her for not having lost complete control because of the shock.

“I’m fine, darling, I just fell on my ankle awkwardly.”

Liar! She didn’t know why she kept doing this to herself. Why was it so hard to just ask Kara to take a break so she could go to the bathroom?

“Are you okay? Do you want me to have a look at your ankle?” Kara asked, before remembering that she didn’t have X-Ray vision. “Or, well, have someone else have a look at your ankle.”

“I’m fine, darling”, Lena assuaged, despite her continuously mounting panic. “Help me up?”

The worry didn’t leave Kara’s face as she extended a hand to pull her girlfriend to her feet, especially not at the hiss that escaped Lena’s clenched teeth – not from pain, as Kara misconstrued it without a doubt, but from the effort of stopping the second leak she lost the moment Kara hoisted her upright.

“Do you need me to help you walk?”, Kara asked.

Lena gave her her best approximation of a smile while clenching her thighs against the pulsing ache of her bladder.

“I’m sure I’ll make it to the car on my own”, she said, but in truth she was unsure whether she’d make it to the car at all. Kara nodded, and hand in hand they made their way out of the arena. Every couple of steps Lena could feel another leak, and she was grateful for the black jeans she was wearing because she was sure that by now she must have saturated her underwear. Her heart was beating in a wild panic that for once in her life Kara’s dampened powers caused her to be unaware of her girlfriend’s plight. This couldn’t happen again, not so soon after the first time she’d disgraced herself. Kara dragged her more through the lobby than she walked, and the spurts she was losing kept growing larger and larger and this couldn’t be happening…

“Actually...I need to use the bathroom before we go.”

She couldn’t stomach looking Kara in the eyes. She could only imagine how Kara must be seconds away from praising her for voicing her needs in time or something equally embarrassing. Her voice already echoed in her head: See, we’re making progress already!

She turned without a further word and made her way to the bathrooms as quickly as possible without outright running, but when she arrived her heart sank once more: The queue was dishearteningly long and moving at a snails pace, while the painful pulses of desperation kept building and building. At least being able to stand still and cross her legs gave Lena some reprieve. She snuck a hand between her legs to check the wetness on her pants and froze when she felt the damp patch expanding to the size of a fist over her right thigh. Lena caught her self chewing on her lower lip, an anxious habit she’d long since thought she’d kicked. She surreptitiously tried to check the stain, she’d thought it fairly invisible until now, but in the harsh, flickering neon light she suddenly wasn’t so sure. God, what if someone saw – what if someone recognized her?

The thought alone made her nauseous with anxiety. She could already see the headlines in front of her mind’s eye:

Luthor’s Little Accident: Luthor Heiress Wets Herself In Dingy Laser Tag Arena Bathroom.

Her breath is coming in short, panicked bursts now, the queue still hasn’t moved an inch and to make everything worse she can feel a new burst of wetness creep down her inner thigh.

It’s too much. She feels like there are dozens of eyes on her, she can feel hot tears welling up and she can’t breathe, she has to leave, now.

She turns on her heels and pushes past the women that have already queued up behind her, keeping her eyes to the ground.

“Good to go?”, Kara asked her, cheerily, as Lena rejoined her in the lobby. The joy quickly drained from her girlfriend’s face when she saw Lena’s expression, and the CEO didn’t miss the fact Kara’s eyes flitted down to her pants to catch any signs of an accident.

“Queue was too long, let’s just go home.”, Lena hissed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure!”, Lena snapped, and immediately regretted it.

“I’m sorry, darling, but can we please hurry?” She hated how desperate she sounded, hated the open pity Kara regarded her with.

“Of course”, Kara murmured, taking her hand again and leading her out onto the parking lot. Lena followed behind, every single muscle in her body tense, and yet she kept losing the fight. She could feel dampness all the way down to her mid-thigh now, cooling rapidly in the late summer air outside, and even more pathetically, tears were leaking down her face from the effort, the pain, the humiliation of it all…

“Hey, hey Lena.” Lena sniffed, trying to put on a brave face. She couldn’t pretend anymore: There was no way she’d make it. She couldn’t even see anymore, tears blurring her vision. The sudden warmth of being enveloped in a firm embrace by her girlfriend. “Kara”, she cried out, an exclamation somewhere between let me go and I can’t hold it and help me.

“Lena, it’s okay. It’s okay.”, Kara murmured into the crown of her head, and Lena wanted to argue, to fight, to tell her that it was anything but okay, but her body seemed to take Kara’s permission and run with it. With one final sob her muscles gave out, her saturated underwear not doing anything to stop the steady stream soaking her pants and filling her shoes, puddling at her feet. And still, despite the horrid situation she’d found herself in, she couldn’t fight the effect that Kara’s voice still crooning soothing words into her ear had on her, she felt herself close her eyes and relax into the relief almost against her will, sagging heavily against Kara’s frame. Distantly she was aware of Kara gently manoeuvring them, shielding Lena from view with her body on one side and Alex’ van from the other. The gratitude that washed over Lena was almost, almost enough to eclipse the burning shame at pissing herself on a date with Kara again. Eventually, it was all over, and Lena disentangled herself, blushing furiously as she was faced with the evidence of her accident she’d left on Kara’s pants. God, she’d pissed all over her girlfriend!

“Kara, I’m so, so sorry -” she told the ground. The mere act of looking at Kara seemed an impossible task to her. Kara, of course, knew her all to well. Gently, she took Lena’s chin in a butterfly-soft hold.

“I told you it’s okay, baby, You couldn’t help it, it’s not your fault the line was so long.” She mercifully emitted the fact that Lena could have requested a break hours ago before waiting a few minutes in line would even have been a problem.

“Hold tight, I’ll see if Alex has any plastic bags for us to sit on.” Kara gave her one last kiss to her forehead before scurrying to the back of the van to rifle through the trunk. Lena leant against the side of the car, so exhausted by her struggle her knees didn’t support her weight anymore.

“Fuck”, she breathed out, burying her head in her hands. “Fuck.”

Kara procured two plastic bags only moments later, and Lena tried to ignore both the squelching of her shoes with every step she took towards the passenger seat, as well as the crinkle of the plastic bag protecting the seat, and the sour smell of urine that clung to her. She let her head loll back against the seat. At least it was over.

Ten minutes later, and it was far from over. Just her luck. The ache came back, suddenly and with force, as if she hadn’t gone at all. And the urgency grew fast, faster than Lena thought possible. She must have really overtaxed her muscles this time. She forced herself to breathe deeply, calmly, slowly fanning her legs.

Kara took her eyes off the road for a second to shoot her a sympathetic smile.

“We’ll be at your apartment soon, and then you’ll get out of these clothes. Don’t even worry about it.”

Lena had no fight left in her to even lash out. She’d wet her pants twice in Kara’s company, there wasn’t much dignity to be saved.

“It’s not that”, she said in a small voice. “I – I have to go again.”

“Again?”, Kara blurted out. Embarrassment displayed itself hot and bright red on Lena’s face.

“Sorry”, Kara mumbled sheepishly. “I don’t think I can pull over anywhere, we’re in the middle of the city, but I promise it’ll only take ten more minutes until we’re there.”

Twenty, with this traffic, Lena thought bitterly.

“Hey”, Kara said, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Lena’s thigh, not even flinching at the sodden state of the fabric. “You can make it.”

Lena didn’t answer. She threw dignity to the wind and buried both of her hands in her clammy crotch, grinding against them to somehow persuade her body to just hold out until they’ve reached the privacy of her apartment. She couldn’t help the desperate sounds escaping her lips, hunched over in her seat because every wave of desperation brought a stabbing pain and -

“Baby, don’t hurt yourself.”

Lena couldn’t answer, couldn’t take an ounce of focus away from keeping Alex’ seat dry.

There was a sigh that carried a hint of exasperation with it, then Kara’s hand returned, her touch moving from a gentle reassurance on her thigh to soft, but insisting pressure on her abdomen. Immediate panic gripped Lena with an icy grasp. She frantically tried to push Kara’s arm away, but the second she moved her hand from between her legs an uncontrollable stream escapes her, warmth blossoming through the cold and wet material. With a whine, she shoves her hands back again, managing to stop the impending disaster just so.

But the gentle pressure on her abdomen returned, increasing.

“Kara, don’t, I’ll wet myself!”, she cried, but Kara shushed her.

“Better than hurting yourself.”

Lena knew she was fighting a losing battle, infrequent leaks turning very, very frequent, having long since completely re-saturated the seat of her pants, but that didn’t mean she was done fighting. She couldn’t ruin Kara’s sister’s seat, how would Alex ever look her in the eye again without seeing the same woman who wet herself twice in one day?

Kara started pushing harder against her bladder, and to Lena’s horror no amount of clenching and grinding could prevent the inevitable from happening.

“Kara – Kara I can’t-” she choked out, urine now steadily spilling over the seat and pattering onto the mat below.

“I know baby, I know. Just let it out”, Kara hummed, and it was over.

“’M sorry”, was all she could say before finally, her body relaxed, hot liquid streaming through her fingers she hadn’t had the presence of mind to remove. All in all, she had barely more than 5 seconds of urine left in her, and somehow, this made her humiliation even worse. This was it? And still she couldn’t hold it for ten more minutes?

“Lena, you’re doing it again.”, Kara chided softly. “Don’t beat yourself up over an accident.”

Lena nodded, not trusting her voice to respond, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her shirt and cringing when she noticed how she’d wet them from the wrist to mid-forearm in her desperate attempts to hold herself.

“Tell Alex I’ll pay for cleaning.” There was no way to hide it from even her girlfriend’s sister anymore.

“Alex?” Kara asked, as if only now remembering whom the car they were sitting in, that Lena just soiled, belonged to.

“Oh, don’t worry about Alex. I’ll just tell her that I misjudged my human holding abilities and it got so bad you had to drive me or I would have crashed into the next wall. Still didn’t end up making it.”

Lena balked.

“Kara, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem! Alex would be far more likely to believe I’d had an accident because of having burned out my powers anyway – it’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Lena turned to regard her girlfriend who was now fully focusing on the road again. There was not a hint of embarrassment on her face, almost as if what she’d been saying again and again was true:

That it wasn’t that big a deal.

For once in her life Lena could almost believe it.

[rannvadraws]

[ ID: Two printscreens from Discord DMs showing two messages.

First one reads: Ok. Thanks for letting me know (context: OP said they’d be afk so they couldn’t answer anything super urgent) A smiley blowing a raspberry. What’s your opinion on erotica featuring OC’s that you created (In this case, for a commission you would’ve bought)?? You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to. I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Additional smiley blowing a raspberry. Reply reads: your question did upset me and hurt. It violated the boundary I set up months ago regarding that even answering questions regarding commissions is a part of the labour with commissions and I was not gonna answer questions like that. Bypassing it by first asking for consent about asking a question and not even disclose that it's about a subject I've told you to avoid is not ok. Either we have a strict artist/patron relationship that only touches on whenever we're having a business interaction which at this point would have non interaction since I'm not open for commissions. Or we're friends and we can talk about other stuff aside from business interactions. But to have the latter you really need to respect that I am having a break from the former to deal with my life, and come to terms with that it might very well be that I never do commissions again because I'm figuring out other ways of branching out my art. I told you I had a big mental breakdown, that I'm going to therapy. You know I've been severely ill this pandemic outbreak and that I only started to recover from my respiratory damages recently. You poking at me to see how I'm doing is at this point just making me waiting for the other shoe to drop and not feeling like it's my wellbeing you care about at all, but rather when I can be available to you again. 

/end ID ] See this? Don’t do this. Seriously, if you ever have started interaction, be it online or IRL, by getting in touch because one or both of you create content the other one likes to consume, be very careful with the balance of if your relationship is a casual acquaintanceship purely based on that interest, or if you genuinely want to be friends. Because if you want to be friends, you can’t bother the other person with pestering them about their craftmanship when it’s not going in the direction you want it to. Being friends opens a person up for so much vurnerability. Accepting DMs, casual talking, clocking out from the business brain. If you just pretend to be friends to slide in about labour, you’re forcing that person to clock back in purely for your convenience. You break their trust. You violated boundaries. You’re establishing that you consider the content creator purely as a producer of the content you want to consume instead of a person. That’s not what anyone signs up for as friends.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask”, except it’s eaten up hours of my time and energy over the 2,5 days I got the message, and it re-triggered the complexes I have about basing my self-worth on how much I can give myself away to others and letting myself be consumed, an issue strongly tied to my c-PTSD and was continuously reinforced during my childhood specifically through schoolmates not bullying me as long as they were “on queue” to get a drawing request. 

[cafegraces]

for you i would ruin myself

ft. buck & sem // just another bday treat for ivy // @defectiveprts

[charlie-sloane-art]

The Fair Play 2

Summary: You’re about to leave for the funeral at Hightower, but first you need to revisit the past and make things right.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Reader x Oberyn Martell

It turns out, your dear Caspian was loved by many in the capital. He took the hearts of many and enchanted twice as much. It infuriated Cersei to know that her dear kingly boy’s wedding would have to be postponed in order to account for half the missing guests that would be on their way back from Hightower, in the Reach. 

The funeral procession would take a few weeks to reach the city by the southern coast and from there the actual funeral would last another week- the Hightowers had it in mind to remind everyone what their dearest second son meant to everyone. Regardless of their efforts, you knew what he meant to you, and no one else could say the same. He had been your heart, the everlasting flame in your chest. 

That wasn’t to say the pain wouldn’t subside and leave a space for the massive ache of vengeance. That massive ache came one sunny afternoon as you packed to follow the procession. A letter slipped from your trunks, a letter you had meant to read but gotten sidetracked from when Caspian had grabbed your hand and kissed it, pulling you in with a whisper of “My love, leave the reading to those with nothing better to do. I’ve got so much more planned for us today.” You had let the red stamped letter go and had forgotten about it until now.

Breaking the Lannister seal on it, you shook your head “Of course you would have distracted me from a letter from Tywin Lannister.” Your stomach churned. Had it been important? Surely you hadn’t accidentally caused a misstep. Surely if it was important enough Tywin would have followed up in person. 

The letter read: “Here’s to you finding this letter in good spirits and health. Lady Mormont, I have a most auspicious proposal for your likeness. It serves us both well for you to hear it out. My son, Jaime, is- as you know- quite fond of you. And now with the lack of his sword hand, I am afraid for his ability to continue serving appropriately in the service of our King. I would not be a responsible Hand of the King if I did not entertain the notion of his dismissal from such a role. My solution is simple: I shall offer you the Ladyship of Casterly Rock. In exchange, you marry my son and become the richest woman in Westeros and my son has reason to retire from the service of the White Cloaks, and so there I would have a proper heir to Casterly Rock and the Lannister fortune, so that I too may retire in good standing. I hope you will consider this offer. Your obedient servant, T. Lannister.” The letter was dated for the day before Caspian had taken his fall. Of course. You knew something must’ve been wrong when the talented man you had seen spar countless times on a balance beam took such an obvious fall. Caspian could stand on a razor’s edge and not tip over. And there was no proof left of anything but a fall when his body was found, so any accusations of a most foul deed would be difficult to prove if not impossible. “Stop it.” You murmured to yourself, taking a step away from the letter that rested on the valise on your bed. “You’re grieving. Nothing more.” Surely these were the subconscious machinations of a mind so bent on grief it was trying to weave itself a most distracting web of conspiracies. But, maybe not. You were sure to tuck the thought in the back of your mind for after the funeral. Perhaps someone there may know more than they let on and so weave your web further. 

Before your departure, there were a few wrongs you had to make right, or at the very least address. “Brienne,” You found yourself knocking on her door before your departure from King’s Landing. No response followed your inquiry “Brienne, open up. I know you’re-”

“I’m not in there.” Her voice spoke behind you.

“Oh. Well, don’t I look foolish.” You smiled uneasily, pacing on your feet.

“Yes, you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to brush past you but you intercepted. Brienne could be a gentle giant when she wanted, and let you block her path.

“I ought to apologize.”

“Yes, you should.” Brienne straightened her spine and you took her queue.

“I apologize for lying to you about my pregnancy. I was never pregnant, in fact Jaime never so much as touched me before you found us in the woods.”

“And after?”

You shook your head “I haven’t come to talk about men with you. I’ve come to apologize before our paths diverge. In any case, you will make sure he’s alright?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Please, Brienne, you know me better than that.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

It made you smile, her admittance to familiarity “Take care, Brienne. I want to see you after the funeral in good health.”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand.” She took your hand and you realized how gentle her touch was, a conscious choice of movement.

“Yes?” Your voice quietened, meeting her blue gaze.

“How were you so sure the lie would work?”

“Sending a young woman to be executed for treason, that would keep you up at night for only a day or so.” You shrugged “But, you have the heart of a true knight, Brienne. Sending an innocent child to the Stark executioner with its mother...it wasn’t your style. I could read it the second we met.” You walked closer to her and leaned on to your tiptoes to reach your lips against her cheek “Take care, Brienne the Good Hearted.”

“And you, my friend.” You could tell she didn’t want to sound as weepy as she did.

“I hate to prolong a good-bye, but have you seen Lady Sansa anywhere?”

“She keeps to herself in the godswood lately.”

“Perfect. Two birds, one stone.” You left Brienne with another kiss, missing her cheek and landing on her chin instead “I better to see you again, Brienne of Tarth.”

“On most accounts, it’s apparently very hard to miss me.”

Your smile widened “And now she grows a sense of humor.”

“Forgive my tardiness, my Lady.” 

“You’re more than forgiven for it, my Lady.” You hugged her tightly, trying to fit your arms around her body but being unable to.

You found Sansa where Brienne said she would be: in the godswood. She wasn’t praying, she’d given up the practice long ago. Instead, she was reading. That was until you stepped on a branch and the crack of it breaking underfoot made her look up at you “Oh no, not you.” Sansa shook her head, biting her bottom lip. If there was one person who could accost her in the godswood to the gods of the north, it would be the only other northerner in King’s Landing: you.

“Sansa,” You began but she stood up abruptly

“I don’t wish to speak with you.”

“Well, I do.”

“I don’t want to hear whatever excuses you have.”

“I have none. Sansa, I am not here to be forgiven. I do not expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it.” You approached her like you would a wary doe.

She paused, looking at her once-close friend up and down “What is it you want, then?”

“I wanted to see you. Sansa, I have missed you so much.” You sat down on one of the giant roots of the godstree, making room for your fair ginger-haired friend.

“You have?” She sat down, carefully, with enough distance to observe you.

“Yes. I miss our tea parties and our sewing competitions. I miss...I miss pretending to be each other’s princes in shining armor.” Had Sansa, only a year and a half younger than you, been the one to instill this idea that led to your enamoration of Caspian? Perhaps, but you couldn’t blame the poor girl. “I miss our conversations that stretched late into the night and I miss our revenge plots against your brothers.” You trailed off “Sansa, I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Robb would’ve cut your head off.” She spoke quietly about her late brother.

“Yes.”

“So why did you do it?” Her big blue eyes finally met yours and relief washed over you.

“I-” What could you say? That you were running away from a fate crueller than death and on the way decided to liberate the most valuable prisoner of war your ward-family had for your own protection? Suppose you could try “They were going to marry me off to a Karstark. Robb wouldn’t let me have a say in it. It was to keep the peace.”

“And you broke the peace.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Sansa looked back down at her lap and that’s when you took her hand that rested on her knee. She spoke your name in a hushed warning.

“It’s alright. No one is here but us. No one is watching.”

“Someone is always watching.” Sansa looked up and around the still woods.

“You’re a Lannister now. No one would dare hurt you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Tyrion’s not a bad man, Sansa.”

“He is if he’s one of them.”

“I doubt he had as much a say in being ‘one of them’ as you did.” Sansa turned to look at you for the comment and pulled her hand away. 

“You have no idea what it has been like.”

“No, I don’t.” You turned, shifting to be closer to her “And for that loneliness, I am sorry.”

“Just leave.” She sighed, dejected.

“Sansa,-”

“Leave me alone.”

She flinched away from your touch when you leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “Please,” You whispered to her “Please send a letter. Even if you have nothing to say. Even if you believe it is stupid. I want to hear from you, Sansa.” You left her with those words hanging in the air.

On the return to your bedchambers where your valise sat waiting with the two only other dresses you owned, you saw a familiar face dressed in burgundy leather and riding pants “Jaime?”

He turned on his heel in front of your locked door and took in the sight of you “Rough day, Cubby?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes at his comment “Are you here to send me off?” Your heart tugged at the idea of a permanent separation.

“No, actually. I’m here to escort you to Hightower.”

“Really?” The feeling in your chest elevated.

“Yes. Turns out, neither Queen nor King need me as much as I thought they did. I am free to go.”

You paused, suspicions rising “You’re not wearing the white cloak.”

“I have no more use for it.” 

“What does that mean?”

“I was dismissed from my post last night. No one wants a one-handed knight, it would seem.” Jaime avoided his gaze on you. It was peculiar, you thought. At the same time that you had become single and available, the King had dismissed Jaime and made him free to be Lord of Casterly Rock. Perhaps it was a coincidence.

“Cubby, are you alright?” “Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m glad we won’t be separated.”

Jaime smiled widely “Me too.” Was he in on this plot as well? Only one way to know.

“I finally read your father’s letter.” You spoke as you opened your door and let him into your quarters.

“My father sent you a letter? That’s...awfully formal of him. What did the letter say?”

“He offered you up.” You sighed as if it wasn’t a big deal “Like the juiciest mutton at the feast.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He Cersei’d you.”

“And that means?”

“Jaime,” You scoffed a laugh “He proposed I marry you as a reward for my returning you.”

Jaime’s only thought was “Did he ask Brienne too?”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“No, I mean...I don’t understand. I should find my own bride now that I am Lord of Casterly Rock,-”

“Warden of the West? I guess not. You still have dear old dad to contend with it seems.” There was a pause as Jaime looked down at the breakfast table you had made a shrine on. “What did you respond?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?” He spoke carefully, tactical thinking, diplomacy, and careful consideration, not really his strong suit.

“Because the letter came a day before Caspian’s fall.”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours immediately “Surely you can’t be insinuating,-”

“I insinuate nothing.” You put your hands up, sitting on your trunk “I simply state mere facts.”

Jaime dismissed the matter entirely, still reeling “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”

“He did it to Cersei, to Tyrion. It was only a matter of time before he did it to you.” You reached over and plopped a grape into your mouth from the bowl of fruits behind your makeshift shrine. “On the bright side, my dearest,” You smiled crookedly at him “now you know how it feels.”

“Well, it’s not the same.” He denied it, sitting across from you.

“How so?”

“You didn’t like the Karstark boy.”

“No. I didn’t want to marry the Karstark boy. He was perfectly fine as a human being.”

“Exactly. You didn’t want to marry him.”

“And where’s the difference, then?” You hummed, oblivious.

Jaime spoke before thinking “There.”

You sputtered “What?”

Jaime’s face grew red and he stood up, biting his cheek near bloody “I suppose if I had to marry anyone I could do worse than you.”

“You said,” You stood with him “the difference is I didn’t want to marry him. And you do? You want to marry me?”

Jaime took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the ceiling. Why did his clothes feel as heavy as his old armour? “Yes.”

Tags:  @jokersdoll @bluegalaxyprime​ @zeldasayer​ @beaferni @thewaythisis​ @edwardsj81​ @hollandhiddles​ @mandahoe @btsbodyguardforever @refrigerated-omelette​ @theshiftylibrarian​ @azulasgf​ @vikingqueen28​ @justnancydrewthangs​ @heatherlynn25​ @c-ly-g​ @discogrrl​ @no-thanks-lol​ @yxorebeloxy @jeahyunniespeach @coffeeandtodd​ @reesestwizzlers25 @the-universe-stars-and-sun​ @zanasharm​ @venus-calum @cielphantomhixe​ @everything-lost-and-unsaid​ @fioccodineveautunnale @trashbin2 @0one-shots0 @literatureandqueen @readsalot73 @karolinadream @glimmerandsparkle @little-ms-fandom @sweet-songbirds 

[miss-tc-nova]

Ursine Ire - Hermod x Fem!Reader

I’ve been dying to do something with Hermod and his temper, so here it is! And I think I’ve finally got my chaos in check for a while, so hopefully I can get another fic or two out before Christmas rolls around. Also, sorry this one feels a little more straightforward than most of my stuff. 

~~~~~

              I’m late! I’m so late! They’re gonna kill me!

              Feet hit the stone path as fast as I can manage without blindly running into innocent bystanders—though there were a few close calls.

              Today, my friends and I are off to see a production Vor and Urd have been demanding we all attend—I was supposed to meet them half an hour ago. Now I’m racing like a rabbit from a dog praying I don’t have to face the wrath of the female wielders.

              Rounding a corner, my heart, just like my foot, skips when I nearly collide with the crowd I’ve let down.

              An outstretched arm intercepts me before I can crash. “Woah! Slow down!”

              Hermod, my boyfriend and the reason I have a great group of new friends, pulls me upright. Steadied by my grip on his haori, I heave so hard my lungs might just fall on the concrete.

              “And here we thought you’d forgotten,” teases the red-head. When I can’t stop gasping, Bragi tacks on, “Geeze, I thought Eraqus was Tardy Fleetfoot.”

              Said ‘Fleetfoot’ leans down. “Are you okay?”

              One more breath gives me my voice back. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I was reading a book and I lost track of time! When I looked at the clock, I freaked out and ran all the way here! I’m so sorry!”

              Soft chuckling brings my attention to the young man with an arm still around me. “It’s alright. We’ve still got some time,” he chuckles. A dip of his head connects his lips to my forehead, washing over that anxiety with a sweet serenity.

              “Cut it out, you two,” Urd insists, clearly not pleased by my tardiness. My boyfriend leans back, still happy but with a tad bit of sheepish mixed in. “That time we have is not enough for you to make out. If we don’t get going, we’ll miss the show.”

              “It might already be sold out!” little blond Vor exclaims.

              “Then let’s get a move on,” urges the boy in black.

              The group agrees and scampers through the streets towards the theater. When we get there, we see the mass of people shuffling into the stadium.

              “Okay, Vor and I will get the tickets,” insists the taller girl, holding her hand out expectantly.

              The boys rifle through pockets, but when I notice Hermod doing the same, I take his sleeve.

              “I’m paying this time,” I say.

              “Oh, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

              “I don’t care if you mind. You paid for the last date; it’s my turn.” His mouth opens to argue. “Don’t make me ask nicely.”

              As it so happens, my asking Hermod ‘nicely’ is actually giving him the best puppy eyes I can, letting my bottom lip slip forward just a little, and saying please. My poor teddy bear has yet to refine any resistance to this technique. Due to this unfair trump card, I reserve it for dire occasions but sometimes just its mention is enough to tilt things in my favor.

              Shoulders slouch. “Fine.”

              Victoriously smiling, I place a peck against his cheek and scurry after the girls. As we chat, a peculiar couple comes up behind us. The woman tears into the man about them not showing up on time—I kind of feel sorry for him. Even so, their conflict is so unbearably awkward that it completely silences the light-hearted conversation we’d been having. There’s only a single person in front of us, but they cannot move fast enough to get us away from this disaster. Thankfully, after Urd gets her batch of tickets, the man sends the woman away, leaving the queue in an uncomfortable silence.

              Vor grabs hers next and bustles away while I quickly purchase mine. About halfway between the ticket booth and my friends, a hand takes my shoulder: it’s the man.

              “Uh…can I help you?” I ask, disquiet quickly simmering in my gut.

              “Yeah, actually, you bought the last two tickets. Mind if I take them?” There’s not even a trace of politeness in his words—it’s more like a statement than a request.

              Eyes dart to the group gossiping not that far away. I point in their direction. “Actually, I’m here to see the show with my friends. Sorry.”

              Anger rivaling the woman’s snaps into place. “So what. They can tell you about it later. Give me those tickets!”

              Not exactly a fighter myself, I step back. As I do, he reaches for me.

              A flash of green swipes up, swatting the grasping hand away. My boyfriend has come to save me with suspicion written across his face.

              “Is there a problem here?”

              “It’s none of your business,” growls the man.

              Slate eyes turn on me and I tell him, “He wants our tickets.”

              “And you paid for them?” I nod. Ever polite, the young man says, “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t have our tickets. Please excuse us.” He turns back to me. “Come on. The show’s starting.”

              Relief takes over too soon when a fist appears around my wrist. So tight is the grasp that my hand quavers and I’m certain there will be bruising. This sudden spike of pain draws a yelp from my mouth that the heckler doesn’t acknowledge as he jerks me closer.

              In the next instant, I’m free. In the same manner, a hand crushes the thug’s wrist. An existential dread rolls over me and the man seems to realize he’s made a mistake.  

              I’ve always described my soft Hermod as a bear: he’s the biggest sweetheart, always looking out for me, and as cuddly as one might expect. However, another reason my brain thinks of a bear when concerning my boyfriend is his rage. He has a saintly patience; it takes something truly serious to push him to anger—something like assaulting his girlfriend—and when he reaches that point, he is terrifying. I’ve only ever seen this one other time when he was having a truly miserable day. He apologized afterwards but I will never forget the fury he exhumed, almost as if he were another person. He is the embodiment of a bear, anger and all.

              “Hermod!” Vor shouts.

              “Hold on there, Brother Bear!” Bragi appears and places a hand on the threatening arm.

              “How dare you,” Hermod snarls lowly, ignoring his friends. Barely veiled violence hides in his eyes. “She is under no obligation to give you anything and her refusal to do so gives you no right to put your hands on her.” I see his grip tighten, bringing the assailant to his knees. “Now apologize.”

              There’s resistance but a further constricting grip accompanied by bared teeth coerce a response. “S-Sorry!”

              Hermod’s hold releases, signaling that his uncertain classmates can relax.

              “You’d do well to learn some manners,” growls the irate boy. With that, an arm gently ushers me away from the scene. Every bit of that tense anger can be felt in his shielding arm. Anxiety bubbles in my chest but I follow without fuss.

              Only a few steps away and the man shows us he’s learned nothing. A boot to the back of my knee messes up my balance. My elbow scrapes across the ground though I’m far more concerned with the ensuing roar. Peering back reveals a frenzied Hermod swinging his keyblade. The weapon strikes the man hard enough to send him across the clearing into a brick wall where he crumples to the ground. Only three straining boys stop the young man from resuming his rampage.

              “DON’T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR HER AGAIN!” My jaw drops—I’ve never heard Hermod utter a single curse word in all our time dating, even on his worst days.

              The girls dash for the downed man. Urd exclaims, “He’s out cold!”

              “I WILL DESTROY YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

              “He can’t hear anything!” Xehanort shouts.

              “You got ‘im!” adds Bragi. “He’s done!”

              Their words fall on deaf ears as the fight to get at his foe floods Hermod’s mind. It’s frightening, far worse than the last time I saw him like this. If the others let him go, who knows what he’d do to that man—I can’t even guarantee murder would be off the table.

              As I watch the struggle, his name barely escapes my mouth. “Hermod.”

              Nothing changes; he’s still fighting—fighting to defend me.

              This is for me…

              Shoving off the ground, I rush to help the boys. Fists snag handfuls of the haori and push against his chest.

              “Hermod, stop! Please!”

              It all freezes; only heavy pants from the four boys breaks the silence. Almost afraid of what I might find, I peek up at my boyfriend’s face—it’s blank, like a chalkboard wiped clean. I don’t know if this makes me relieved or worried.

              Vor breaks the silence with an announcement. “Guys, he might need a doctor.”

              The wary boys release their classmate and Xehanort leans towards Bragi. “We’ll take care of the moron; you get these two someplace they can calm down.”

              “Good plan.” A palm to the chest pushes the impassive boy back. “Alright Brother Bear, let’s get outta here. You too, chickadee, come on.”

              Bragi steers the two of us down the street away from the mess we left. Silence stirs the distress I’d been boiling throughout the ordeal; I’m unable to stop ruminating on images of that fury.

              At the student dorms where the keyblade wielders train, our chaperone branches off. He leaves us in the entrance hall, still stifled in quiet, but returns rather quickly.

              “Yo, Hermod.” He shoves a box into the taller boy’s arms. “You might wanna patch up your girlfriend.”

              A light finally sparks in his eyes and Hermod turns on me. “Are you okay?”

              This is my Hermod and it’s almost alarming how this gentle giant could turn into something so vicious.

              “Yeah,” I mumble.

              That pain adds to my uncertainty, but it all goes out the window when my feet leave the ground. Too stunned to do anything about it, I let Hermod carry me through the halls of the student dorms; I do, however, flinch when his door flies open and closes with another slam. Hermod’s back hits the wall and he slumps to the floor, still clinging to me.

              “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my shoulder.

              It takes a moment to gather my words. “That…That was pretty scary,” I whisper back.

              “I know and you deserve to be mad at me. I was out of line and I wasn’t thinking, but when he…”

              I already know why it happened, not that it makes it any better. Still, Hermod’s actions were for my sake; I don’t condone what he did but that man made it clear he wasn’t giving up without a fight. My boyfriend was protecting me.

              “Thank you.” Those slate eyes give me a perturbed look. I let the corners of my mouth turn up. “For sticking up for me.”

              Gods, I wanted to make him feel better, not add to that misery. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

              “I know.” I brush the hair from his face. “You’re such a sweetheart. But maybe next time we don’t knock someone unconscious with our keyblade.”

              He let’s a guilty sigh escape him, dropping his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

              A finger leads his gaze back to me. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

              Again, his face hides against me. “It’s not your fault.” Pushing him back, I take his face in my hands and raise a brow; he gets the hint. “But I forgive you.”

              “I love you, Hermod,” I say, running circles across his cheeks with my thumbs.

              There’s the smile I’ve been looking for. “I love you too.”

              Content with the response, I kiss him. It’s short but oh so sweet—they always are with Hermod. I’d spend hours on end kissing him if there weren’t other matters to attend to.

              “Hermod?”

              “Hmm?” It’s a dreamy, peaceful sort of hum.

              “Who taught you the F word?” My accusations are mostly in jest but the results are perfectly entertaining. My gentle teddy bear bursts into a blush and begins stammering like a fool. “It was Bragi, wasn’t it?”

              “I—I—you—wh—”

              “I’m only teasing,” I sing, pinching at his cheeks. “Now fix my elbow please.”

              This vexed sigh comes with an adoring smile as he reaches for the first aid kit.

[coup-de-maine]

How to enter a fandom - RPC

Hey guys, time for a friendly PSA from yours truely~

So I’ve been in and out of a lot of fandoms, made friends, enemies, frenemies, grave mistakes and happy accidents. I also see a lot of people come in other fandoms. Most of yall do great but I see some people carry in this weird sort of self deprecating attitude that can immediately turn rpers away from them, which results in; more of that self deprecation. So Im here to hopefully help out with the best ways to enter a fandom or an rpc, make your presence known and make lots of wonderful friends.

Now the first, and most important thing, and I notice a ton of people struggle with it is:

General attitude. 

Let me give two examples of some first time posts.

“Hey! I’m new to the fandom. I know my bio and my theme sucks but would anyone like to rp? Maybe?”

VS.

“Hey! I’m new to the fandom. My bio and rules are located here, though they’re still under construction I’m really eager to develop them with interactions!”

Now I know the first one is tempting for a lot of reasons. You might not even feel like its all that bad, but up next to the second one it actually sounds a little...depressing, monotone, dry. Even though they start the same, one ends with me feeling like: this person really doesn’t put effort into things, they dont even really want to be here. All my threads with them are going to be lazily written or probably written with half baked enthusiasm.

The second person is happy to be here, eager to interact, admits that since they’re a new blog not everything is perfect. Yet, they don’t talk down on themselves or make it seem like anyone who talks to them will only be taking pity on them.

This is actually a big problem I see in the rpc. Making people take pity on you for interactions and the rule with that is simple:

don’t make people feel like they have to take pity on you. 

It’s a knee jerk reaction, I know. We’re all awkward humans on the internet who want to play up our faults. Who wants to say “My stuff is SO awesome! It’s the best”??? 

Well. You do. You’re new to a fandom. People already have established relationships, character arks, possibly with another version of the muse youre playing. Backstories so detailed it’ll make your head spin. You are literally selling yourself to these other rpers. Don’t sell them “A vacuum cleaner that sucks. No, not sucks up the dirt, it just sucks. Like me, Im trash and dont even have a working vacuum” No one wants to buy a vacuum cleaner that sucks.

Hate to break it to you, but when you say you suck, or your stuff sucks; people are gunna believe you. Or they’re just gunna pity you. And thats not great either. 

Heck you might think; why not? So long as they rp with me, whats wrong with that? 

Well... lots of things but mostly; pity isn’t a good feeling. Nobody wants to feel guilted into rping with you. Imagine seeing someone on your dash constantly posting about how no one likes them, their character or interacting with them. How they wanna die because they never get asks, no one likes their starters. (Sound extreme? I’ve seen it.) It makes you feel bad right? It makes you wanna like them but like- where do you even start??? They don’t even like them?? What common ground do you have?? “Hey, I see you hate yourself... uh... I hate you too?” Not great. Actually bad. You don’t know how to approach this person without becoming an emotional crutch, and you know they’ll latch on to you and suck every positive emotion out of your body so how do you win?

So lesson one is; People don’t want to be forced to feel so bad that they rp with you, they want to feel inspired to. Inspire some dudes! (or non-dude identifying people)

Presentation!

This is everything. Present yourself. You don’t need flashy icons or a cool promo- let me tell you, I’ve made some shitty promos in my life. See Here

That was my promo for a long as time. Until it was THIS that a friend made for me (A friend that I made. Through how awesome I presented myself. Thanks Vee, if you see this I still love you)

I can’t stress enough how important attitude is because I’ve had both a shitty attitude and a great one in the RPC and let me tell you, nothing kills a blog faster than a shitty attitude. Wanna make a self deprecating posts about that meme that you got 0 asks for? NUH UH. Think again. PITY = BAD, SHORT LASTING FRIENDSHIPS. INSPIRED = SUPER AWESOME HAPPY FUN TIMES FOREVER.

Yo, present yourself in a way that makes people wanna approach you. Get them interested, say something wacky or edgy or if your character is self deprecating then self deprecate through them but DO IT IN A FUN WAY. The people who care about icons and fancy promos usually aren’t worth lasting friendships either. Sometimes they literally spend more time formatting than writings something worth while for you. (some of you really balance it and just love formatting but u know im not talking about u Im talking about those that literally wont talk to us that dont)

So present yourself well and be genuine.

--- WAIT WAIT WAIT- be genuine?? What if my genuine self is self deprecating and negative? 

[JOHNNY TEST NOISE] 

HELL NO shut the what up I know you’re not, I know that’s a reflex to cover up how insecure you are, I know you hate how pathetic and small you feel so you point out all the things wrong with you before someone else can. That’s not you, and you are capable of more than that.

Dude. (and non-dude identifying peeps) I’m gunna say it again. I’m gunna say it a million times; one day it will sink in. Everybody feels that way. 

What?? Octo ur so cool and confident tho

You know how you never noticed?? CANT SEE MY HANDS SHAKE THROUGH THE COMPUTER.

DONT KNOW HOW LONG I HESITATED BEFORE SENDING THAT ASK MEME TO YA.

The internet is a playground because you can trick people into believing whatever you want about yourself. YEP even good things!!! You don’t have to wear your flaws on your sleeve, and you certainly don’t have to wear them like a full body cast that prevents you from doing anything fun in your life.

Take the cast off, take a risk. You literally have nothing to lose. Especially if no one interacts with you as is anyways.

Be mindful

This is more of a trick I use to make myself feel better. I don’t follow a lot of people so my dash is pretty slow. It’s fairly easy to tell when people are and aren’t active/online so I literally have to trick myself sometimes but;

If you reblog a meme and get nothing, step back and ask yourself; am I sure anyone even saw it? and are the people who did maybe to shy to send anything? Or maybe nothing in that meme applies to their character.

As a mute character I am VERY restricted to what memes I reply to. As a character who speaks VERY LITTLE I am VERY restricted to what dialogues I can send at all. This means I’m required to edit memes a little (this is allowed by most meme creators btw) or I need a very good relationship with a character in order to say/sign that many words at them.

And worse case scenario, queue it and reblog it again/later. Its no biggie, some memes don’t make it.

Self reflect

Check out people on the dash. Do they have interactions? What are they like? Is their character more welcoming? Maybe you’re character is more intimidating. You might need to actually seek out interaction.

Tumblr has this huge enigma where everyone wants asks but no one wants to send them. Curious anons come from someone, magic anons come from your peers, followers, friends. Some of them are pretty obvious. Want asks? Send them. We really need to get the ball rolling with this because its honestly a problem. Show some initiative and reach out. It actually feels pretty good seeing someone react to your outrageous anon. And its a lot of stress relief if you play an otherwise very serious character to get to branch out and be silly.

So you send asks, you like starter calls- why isn’t it working?

Well, a stranger knocks on your door and tries to get to know you. Its a little awkward- it can work sure in some cases. But in most you’ll probably close the door and phone the police.

The RPC isn’t as strange as that but what’s easier? Talking to a muse you’ve never met from a blog you’ve never seen before? Or writing a thread with your best bud, throwing in inside jokes and references to your favourite shows- teasing each other about that one embarrassing thing that happened to your muse- yeah. Yeah you get it.

If you have history or at least an idea what someone is like, you will want to interact with them more. I don’t know if you’re some mean... meanie pants whos gunna smack my muse because he offered you a cookie. And maybe you are, but if I don’t know you, or know that your muse is deeply traumatized by cookies, I might take that as you saying “Ew no get away I never wanna rp with you”.

It sounds harsh, but I KNOW it happens. It STILL happens to me, even with people I’m friends with. Even if someone has multiple blogs and I get on fine with one muse, if the other hates me I might get uneasy about sending in asks cause I feel like I’m directly bothering the mun (who I love on this blog but WHAT IF THEY START HATING ME THERE TOO???)

Separation is tricky. We all get jealous or feel neglected when our partners focus on another thread/ship or send mean angsty replies which is why its important to check yourself remind yourself you have value, mun =/= muse and that it’s all in good fun.

Have Rules

UGH no!!! Not rules I hate rules, I dont want to restrict anyone!

Listen. I get it. I was a rule-less blog for a long time. But you know what? You need them. Not just for you, but for the people who wanna interact. I still feel the need to ask people who have rules what they are and aren’t comfortable with. You might not realize it but shit can go down in rps especially in certain fandoms. Even if its just the basics. Write them. They matter.

Unless you’re fine with someone literally controlling your character, or a blog you dont even follow who RPs David Letterman tags you in a smutty thread where your muse and him are married and he’s heavily pregnant with 4 narwal baby’s I- I think you can see where I’m going.

If its just the basics, thats fine, everyone loves seeing that. No god modding, not forced shipping, ect- great. Less for me to remember. Add to it if you need to. Everyone experiences rp different. Make your experience a comfortable one.

(And stay tf away from me Preggo-letterman)

Step away.

If you’re feeling negative, just step away. Do not make a big post about it alerting everyone who follows you because they might not all respond well. If you have close friends in then fandom you can go to, talk to them, vent a little, or just remove yourself and get those feelings out. But remember that no one here is equipped to be your therapist, and we cant all be expected to take the burden from you. It is up to you to regulate your emotions. Use coping skills but please don’t make the fandom or your blog a toxic place to be.

You don’t feel good, and no one reading your posts feels good, and building friendships on not feeling good is just... completely not good.

Im not saying you must be sunshine and rainbows all the time, but feeling bad feels bad and even though rping is just a hobby and a past time you are still reaching into other peoples lives. Leave a good impact, try to be someone you would want to meet in the rpc. Make it a better place.

Tips and Tricks

If you leave with nothing else, please take these:

Send Messages. 

IM people, send them asks, get to know them before RPing.

Be kind.

Be generous.

Be enthusiastic.

Be happy.

[lostsolsdestinyblog]

Destiny, matchmaking, SBMM, CBMM and the perspectives and attitudes of the different sides of the community

July 27, 2018

I'd like to take some time to talk about Destiny, matchmaking, SBMM, CBMM and the perspectives and attitudes of the different sides of the community. This has been an issue for a long time now and it's hitting another crescendo with not just the move back to 6v6 Quickplay, but this announcement from DMG and Derek Carroll today regarding matchmaking in QP. I've posted on this issue in the past and I think it's time to take another realistic look at matchmaking within the game and how it's working and who it's really benefiting. As I wrote in that post from way back when, there is a lot that goes into matching players in Destiny. Anyone who has continuously fast traveled on Mars to try to find an EP group understands that the first criteria the game tries to match players on is region. This is also the case in PvP as players like CammyCakes would use this pre-private matches to set up scrims and Trials players will change hosts to try to find more favorable opponents in different regions. So understanding that, it then branches out to many other factors in a complex algorithm to try to put players together. This will vary a bit from PvE where if there are no favorable matchups, the game can place players in their own instance and then matchmake others in from there. PvP obviously gets more complex, but the game is still trying to match players as quickly as possible because no one wants to sit in queues all day. Now here is where things get all wonky at least on the community end. Two of the bigger factors after region are SBMM and CBMM. These have both existed within Destiny matchmaking from day one despite claims that SBMM was only added in later on. While both did exist, they have been weighted differently throughout the course of the game sometimes favoring one more than the other. However, even with that knowledge it's not that cut and dry. Fireteams. As I stated in the post I linked, you can sing the praises of CBMM or SBMM until the cows come home, but neither can account for team compositions when players are going in grouped in a fireteam. Connection based matchmaking cannot account for players who are spread out all across the country or world who are in one fireteam together, just like it also can't account for the varying skill levels of all the players within a team. Could the game try to approximate and go from a median skill level? Maybe, but the other wildcard in all of this is that other players of similar skill or good connection quality have to be sitting in orbit in queue at the same 30-45 second window as you and not still be in a match or not in queue yet. All this has been. All this is, and all this will be again. That is a universal truth. Another universal truth is that someone is going to hate whatever system is in place while someone else loves it and that puts Bungie in the unenviable position of trying to make everyone happy when it's an impossible task. That is why ultimately I still believe the D1 approach of trying to find the right balance in weighting between the two was the best approach. Unfortunately the SBMM rebellion happened and ultimately it played a huge role in the direction Bungie went with D2. I don't want to rehash completely why I still believe the SBMM revolt was fundamentally wrong and the falsehoods of many of the claims, but I will speak on the initial complaint that lit the fuse and that was players feeling they were always in "sweaty" matches. This started with prominent content creators and was picked up and echoed by viewers. I know there is a tendency to lay the blame for everything players don't like about D2 at the feet of streamers and YouTubers and while this is not the case, they are also not without fault on some things. The general sentiment was that elite players couldn't ever relax and have fun because they were constantly "forced'' to play nothing but other elite players. The flip side to that coin of course is that their relaxing and having fun was achieved by smearing lower skilled players. This wasn't fun for those players and in year one of Destiny led to a very big problem of players just quitting out of matches as soon as the score even looked like it might get tilted (leading to the increased importance of SBMM in year 2). Unfortunately when the great SBMM revolt occurred, there was a lot of weight behind the message from very high profile people in the community and the other side just didn't have the same voice to speak with; which brings me to Destiny 2 and the past couple of days in particular. People like to say in loud voices the things players never asked for like crucible going to all 4v4, weapon changes, etc. And while technically that may be correct in the literal sense, the truth of the matter is that all the changes that happened with D2 were the developers trying to give players what they felt we wanted the game to be through all of our feedback. We didn't ask for 4v4, but what the community did ask for were games with better connections, and smoother play and going back to matchmaking, fireteams and all the variables of trying to group 12 players, lowering the player count to 8 allowed for a greater chance at better matchups. This was also the reason for the move to playlists rather than static game modes to queue for. On paper it is easy to see the upsides to all of it when weighed against player complaints from D1. Life is full of variables though and another is player population and as that dipped, it threw all of it out the window. There were no longer the extra players in queue from having 4 less in each match and only 2 playlists. The devs made a decision and they took a chance and it didn't work how they wanted. That happens and I give them all the credit in the world for owning that and resolving to make the game better. But going back to the split playlists, Quickplay and Competitive, this is something that bothered me before release and will lead into where we're at today. There was very vocal call for a ranked playlist in Destiny 2 and at launch many complaints from prominent players that Comp didn't go far enough and wasn't a true ranking system to show off skill. The reason this bothered me then is that we went through the SBMM revolt because elite players didn't like having to get sweaty all the time, but then in almost the same breath they're asking for ranked play. It made no sense at the time and we've seen this throughout D2 but really brought front and center since the last update that the ''elite'' players don't want to play ranked play. I was watching a stream yesterday discussing the topic and one of the things brought up was a top level PvP player who very publicly ''quit'' D2 earlier this year now ''loving'' Destiny again because they can go into QP and put up 60 kills. And to the credit of some viewers, it was pointed out that Quickplay maybe isn't all that fun for the lower skill players on the receiving end of those beatings, but the on stream reply was that casuals should play in Competitive if they want to play players their own skill level. And THAT is why I’m tilted on the subject enough to write about this again. Beyond the hubris of that statement, let’s really break it down. Elite players wanted a ranked playlist to show their skill, but found out they still hate actually having to play equal competition on a regular basis and it's more fun for them and entertaining for people who watch their streams and YouTube videos to see them throwing down monster games against lesser opponents. So if new or less skilled players want to play even competition and not have to not just sweat, but get their heads beat in every single match, their recourse is to play the ranked comp list that was meant for the high skilled players. FUBAR and ass-backward for sure, but it also fails to take into account that ''casual'' players can't play Control or Clash in the comp playlist. So where does that leave the game? From today's announcement that currently neither CBMM nor SBMM are functioning correctly and Bungie's response that for the time being they are going to let things lie and see how they play out, it seems that player populations over the final weeks before Forsaken are going to shape the eventual outcome. But at this point I think that it's clear that Quickplay and Competitive do not function as intended and it may be time to do a deep rethink on things there. I hate having to come to that opinion because I know how much Kevin Yanes and his team put into building ranked play, but if QP becomes the de-facto stomping grounds for the high skill crowd then where does it leave Comp? And this is where I would throw questions to the community. Does the community truly feel that the game comes down to survival of the fittest and there isn't a place for players who don't live and breathe crucible (or have time to no life grinding in PvE)? Or can we accept that the game can try to find a middle ground and have something for both types of player? The calls for the complete removal of SBMM were very clearly option one there in D1 and are fortifying that position these past few days. To state that casual players need to find someplace else to play is not something I accept or endorse and it is my hope that most of the people in this community wouldn't as well. The game can always be better. Matchmaking can always be better, but I would like to see solutions that don't leave behind one group or the other and to that end maybe it's time to rethink matchmaking completely. Thank you.

[mantrabay]

Ballroom In The Sky

Short Story

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild shakes, weeps and sighs.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard on the outskirts of his native town.

Two years later and her memory still intrudes in unexpected moments.

“Still so vivid. Is this a nightmare…..some trick of the light or just another passing dream?

The Passing Of A Velvet Heart.”

Geoff's thoughts almost choking him. Streams of emotion flowed down his face like someone who had just seen a tragic film.

Violet or Velvet heart, his pet name for his wife, had died and was still having difficulty coming to terms with it.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from the edge of the flat roof on their elegant townhouse?

Why would this lady of such excellent balance lose her footing in such a manner?

Death through misadventure was a colourful term used to describe what happens when there is no clear cause or explanation.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet once said. Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away.

A creepy dawning sneaks its way into Geoff’s thoughts.

An endless see-saw of conflicting doubts convulsed him as he dwelt in the cemetery.

Yet Wild fondly recalled that night they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn cum venue whose allure was based firmly on its availability.

The interior of this ballroom was hardly more enticing.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles and looping glances which he hoped were being cast at him. The ripples of long dark hair, those apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura stood out.

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants and satin moccasins.

An opal choker completes the picture. “Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her. Within seconds he was standing in front of Violet unable to control the tremble in his knees.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards while she thought of a response.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody who met her.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies, a rock and jazz band whose name was partially influenced by the venue that gave them their initial break.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following.

Something magical and unearthly happened every time they played that song on stage.

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were in appearance.

They were mirror images of each other.

It was frightening how easy it was to confuse the two of them in speech, mannerisms and appearance.

The drole, quaint, humour.

Age even.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area outside town when not on tour.

She used to refer to songs as role plays in that banter between numbers.

“You feel as though you are a different person.

Maybe a member of the audience betimes.”

Valerie remarked.

Other than that they, Violet and Valerie, were virtually indistinguishable.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but other than that they had very few interactions with each other or so it appeared on the surface at any rate.

It seemed amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks and abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon around the three of them which the rest of the patrons were unaware of.

For the most part or at least superficially.

They, the three characters, weren’t always aware that they were being sucked into a surreal threesome.

As for Valerie’s top sideman....well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He was the only member of this group that had any kind of track record or reputation.

Sam’s blue attire was in keeping with the band’s name. He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

Basking in the background one saw very little of him.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and though taciturn was also eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the trademark impish grin was always an afterthought.

Then the usual quiet man mystery.

“Yep ..Yup....or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen by and large.

He was prone to stumble and fall. Valerie had to indicate where things were to Sam in case he injured himself.

They would have words with each other which no one could quite figure out. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted squirms and facial signposts.

One often wondered if there was a deeper relationship between Valerie and Sam that others had yet to pick up on.

Leaving that aside, those Blue Skies airs would have been mere fillers without Sam. This lonely freak seemed aloof but by the same token these songs were peculiarly his.

“LOVERS TAKE THE FLOOR

FANCY DANCING WITH THE ONE THAT YOU ADORE

WARM EMBRACES AS YOU HEAR EACH OTHER SIGH

LOVERS TIL WE DIE

WE’LL BE DANCING IN THAT BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Every time that song was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret that would baffle even the most senior detective.

The startled looks, embarrassed smiles, were all part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild did try to piece all these recollections together.

“Valerie sure could croon those songs. In a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers. The classics then came thick and fast.”

Geoff whispers to himself in this solitary graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM...........STILL SO VIVID.......DANCING IN HEAVEN...... KISSES ALL AROUND....MAGIC HAND........A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY”. Other favourites included “ LET YOUR LOVED ONE KNOW “ ( BEFORE SHE PASSES AWAY ) AND “ IN TWO MINDS.” Geoff and Violet would date and swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint of the dance with its mesmerising rhythms and choral mantras.

Like magic it weaved its way through every aspect of their relationship. Its spell was like an invisible hand shadowing their each and every move.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

A crushing gloom weighed heavily on this once vibrant resort.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think…...A jigsaw puzzle of past events.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery as if he were a stargazing prophet.

He didn’t want to be heard talking to himself.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended lapping up and revelling in the bonhomie of gemstone tunes and spritely pulse rate beats.”

The man Geoff communing with himself.

They were fugitives all of them. Be they fantasists, love seekers or escapees from that heavy-handed void called the dole queue. Suddenly an unusual presence descended without warning.

“What the heavens is? Snap…..ah it's a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees astride this burial ground.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens? You know that “Ballroom In The Sky.”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment just about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory shaft of late evening sun.

Warm misty comas presently forming a shroud over Wild but he was immune to them.

Geoff’s mental state shifts from doze to daze. Clouds of recall floated past his eyes with the odd fact jolting him out of his stupor.

Wild could no longer hide from the rather bizarre identities Valerie and Velvet Heart possessed. “Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances that they cast at any distance. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air in a game of bow and arrows that never missed their target.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam who was also at a loss would do his usual u-turn into the shadow. He then shook his head in dismay.

Two months before Geoff's and Violet’s parting, an unforgettable incident occurred.

Quite often memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys. It was one of those Sunday’s that typified the area Geoff lived in.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed and segued into each other. Valerie and Velvet Heart who were magnets for men knew the music would amplify their appeal.

This tuneful genre helped both aforementioned ladies ooze black magic.

Violet's knowing stare caught Geoff off guard. “Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus all those erotic thoughts on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?” Violet’s eyes twinkled as she seized Geoff up and down. Those penetrating peepers knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no .....not at all.” Geoff with a loop of a smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like the early morning sun.... a new dawn.” Wild in poetic mode.

“You honey tongue you. Wait, Geoff our song. Yes, Ballroom.” Violet mutters gingerly.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone identical to Velvet Heart leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Sam didn’t always act immediately on Valerie’s cues.

“Yep.. Yup ...Sure.” Sam’s usual retort.

Eventually.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever as it cast its bewitching spell to all sections of this venue.

A medley was now included tonight for the first time.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage whilst tenderly clasping Geof. There was a dim-lit silence.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled the hall as they sang unaccompanied with Geoff simply awestruck.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage.

Valerie handed Violet a letter which Geoff could only peer at. What was in it?

Sam was now talking to Valerie with the usual economy.

In the confusion of memory images are both mist and blur.

“Pst...Pst. It's me. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you so I am.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can't phantom…..fathom.” Geoff nearly froze. Violet’s voice sounded like a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet which was covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

Actually Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film and Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Said Violet objectively.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success at all but did get our area some limited publicity for a while.

Sam earned some extra royalties, though not a king’s ransom from the soundtrack sales.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about in your sleep.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Once more Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind and confused on occasions.

You know next Sunday and all. Or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

This dry playful tease surfacing from Violet again.

Geoff was thunderstruck. Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table near the drawing room corner.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song with Sam on vocals.” A tranquil Violet stated.

“This is one tune you’ll definitely know.

May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice wafts and weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay Copyright Protected

All My Own Work

.

[cafegraces]

for @starlcved cont from here.

she's fully aware of the skeptical gaze of the gathered nobility, but it's no different than the way her father's advisers used to look at her; she's accustomed to people looking at her and seeing little more than a pretty face. in many cases, that mistake on their part is something she can use to her advantage. however, at the present moment, she will have to simply ignore such assumptions and allow her comportment to show them otherwise. the warning in the king's tone is clear, but she can't heed it for fear of the very real potential consequences. news from her home planet has been few and far between, but it has become clear that gaius damora has established himself as the ruler of not only limeros, but paelsia and auranos, as well. news of her family's deaths had spread widely through the galaxy despite the otherwise strained communications, no doubt meant to support gaius' claim to rule. it's likely that the only reason she remains alive is her father's attempts at dissolving kingdom tensions by sending her away. clearly, gaius had recognized her absence as one of the only remaining threats to his right to rule, and she's of the mind that the recent disturbances in selustria are evidence that he's finally learned of the planet to which she had been secreted away, likely from sifting through her father's communications.

spine straightening, she's careful to keep her tone as casual and controlled as his in her reply, " respectfully, your highness, in the wake of recent events, i am now auranos' queen. " regardless of the distance or lack of coronation, that responsibility now bears down upon her. " a fact which certain parties are well aware of, parties whom i believe to be responsible for the recent violence in your lands. " there's a delicate balance to maintain in ensuring that the most logical result of this discussion does not turn out to be turning her over to her enemies. though she believes mohandai to be a kinder person than the reputation and mantle his father left for him, she's well aware that their kingdoms must always come first. " as you already know, auranos has great amasses of wealth and resources that we would be glad to continue to offer our allies whilst a rightful ruler is upon the throne. if it is true that gaius damora is responsible for the pillaging of your villages, then he has, in his arrogance, already dismissed the value of a working relationship with selustria. a mistake in his quest to secure his rule, likely by ending my life and removing the question of his conquering of our planet. " cerulean eyes hold the king's, cool and collected as she concludes her case. " only arrogant fools desire war, but it has intruded on your lands all the same. doing nothing is untenable and tantamount to allowing the king of blood to lay claim to your lands too, so now, regrettably, you are faced with a choice, your highness. "