#( dancing in the moonlight ⋆｡°✩ ) dash games

[astral-athame]

What element would you be a bender of in ATLA?

Waterbender

Water is the element of change. Waterbenders are flexible and willing to adapt to changing situations. In combat, waterbenders fight by turning their opponent's energy against them, and by countering an an enemy's attacks with their own. As a waterbender, you tend to adapt a go with the flow attitude. You can accept change more easily than most, and are willing to alter your course of action as necessary. You're a great friend, and prioritize your bonds with others and making sure that your friends are safe and happy is an absolute priority. Because of your adaptability and strong compassion, you probably can be a little too self-sacrificial. It's important to remember that you have your own value! Don't forget that your needs are important too, and if your friends are worth the care you give them, they'll respect and advocate for you too.

Tagged By Stolen From: @southern-belle-outcasts Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it <3

[sonorous-eisfyl]

tag dump v2 bc i broke my search index

[leona-hawthorne]

THE RABBIT AND THE FOX / mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: he wanted to play a little game of chasing you through the woods…

warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, predator/prey dynamic, cnc (kind of?), chasing, a little bit of dacryphilia, swearing, established relationship, safe word in place!!! (not used here tho)

words: 2.2k

a/n: i saw this post from @blondwhowrites and i couldn’t get it out of my head so enjoy this <3

masterlist

The moon hung high and full in the night sky, casting silver shadows that danced through the dense canopy of trees. The Forbidden Forest was eerily silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves underfoot and the distant call of a night creature. It was the perfect setting for the game your boyfriend had planned, the one you had reluctantly agreed to.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, louder than any owl's call or rustle of leaves. You sprinted through the underbrush, your breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. You didn't dare look back.

Mattheo Riddle was on the hunt.

Mattheo's eyes followed your shadow as you darted between the trees, shallow breaths leaving your lips, each step crunching the leaves beneath your feet as you ran. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, every sense heightened, every muscle taut with anticipation.

The feeling of stalking you through the woods was intoxicating for him, every fiber of his being focused on you. He had always been drawn to the darkness within himself, but tonight, it felt as though that darkness had a purpose. He was closing in, his footsteps a soft but persistent echo in the night.

Mattheo was desperate to catch you, his eyes following your shadow as it danced through the trees, illuminated by the pale moonlight. He knew he could catch you in an instant if he tried, but Merlin, was the sight of you running away in fear arousing. He'd sport his massive erection all night if he had to just to keep watching the show you were putting on.

The thrill of the hunt fueled his every action, his predatory instincts sharpened, every movement calculated to outsmart yours. He could almost hear the quickening beat of your heart, smell the intoxicating mix of fear and excitement that radiated from you.

“Are you scared, bunny?” he called out and you could swear, even whilst hiding behind a tall, thick oak tree in the darkness of the night, you could hear the menacing smirk on his face. “Don’t be scared. You know I won’t hurt you.” he lied through his teeth. You knew that wasn’t true. He’d eat you alive if he could.

You kept your mouth shut in hopes that he’d move away from where you stood but when you heard his footsteps falling closer to you, you sprinted off in the opposite direction.

His gaze was set on your darkened silhouette, sharp and predatory, as you dashed past every tree. You were his prey tonight, and your fear was electrifying. Every step you took, every ragged breath you drew, only fueled his desire more. He could hear the rhythm of your footsteps, the crackle of twigs beneath your hurried stride, and it spurred him on faster, closer.

He had given you a head start, a chance to escape, but you both knew it was futile. He was a master of this game, and you were an enticingly willing participant.

He was the fox; you were a mere rabbit, running to get caught.

The anticipation built within him, a coiled spring ready to snap as he pushed forward through the undergrowth.

You were fast, he had to give you that.

But not fast enough. His long strides closed the distance between you effortlessly, each step bringing him closer to the prize. He could practically hear your heartbeat, the rhythm of it loud in his ears, blending with the pounding of his own.

You stumbled over a root, catching yourself just in time. Your eyes flickered back, meeting his for a split second. There was fear there in your irises, yes, but also something else. Something that made his blood run hot.

His pace quickened, a feral grin spreading across his face. The chase was exhilarating, but the capture— that was the true prize. He moved with silent precision, a dark figure weaving through the trees, always just a step behind you.

You glanced back, eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. There was something primal in his gaze, a promise of what was to come, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You pushed yourself harder, feet pounding against the forest floor, but you knew it was only a matter of time. He was relentless, and you were his.

"Run, bunny," he called out, his voice a dark, seductive promise. "Run while you still can."

You took off again, pushing yourself to the limits, but it was futile. You knew it. He knew it. This was his game, and he never lost.

You ran faster, desperation lending you a burst of speed, but you could feel him gaining ground. Your lungs burned, your legs ached, but you couldn't stop. Not yet. The forest seemed to conspire against you, branches snagging at your clothes, roots rising to trip you, but you pressed on, driven by a heady mix of anticipation and determination.

He was close now, so close he could almost reach out and touch you. The scent of your trepidation, your panic, drove him wild. A sharp turn, a momentary hesitation, and he was upon you. With a final burst of speed, he lunged forward, his fingers closing around your wrist. You yelped, trying to pull away, but he was too strong, yanking you back against him.

And then, suddenly, his arms were around you, a strong, unyielding embrace that pulled you off your feet. You gasped, a mix of surprise and exhilaration flooding your senses as he held you down. His breath was hot against your ear, his body pressing firmly against yours, holding you in place.

You could feel the heat of his body, the roughness of his breath against your neck. "Got you," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a chill through you.

Your struggles were half-hearted, the game meant more than the fight and he knew it. He spun you around, pressing you against a tree, his hands roaming over your body, claiming you. The rough bark bit into your back, but the sensation only heightened the intensity of the moment, his touch drowning out the pain.

His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that matched your own. His hand slid up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, reminding you of his power, his control. You whimpered, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

"You thought you could escape me?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed over your body, possessive, claiming.

“Let go,” you cried out, a tear streaming down your cheek, but you both knew the last thing you wanted him to do was let go. He leaned down to lick it away, his tongue cold against your cheek.

"Do you know what happens now?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You nodded, your eyes wide, breath coming in shallow gasps.

Your body responded to his touch, a traitorous thrill shooting through you at his words. His lips brushed your neck, a sharp nip that made you gasp, and he chuckled darkly, savoring your reaction. His hands were everywhere, exploring, teasing, until you were trembling with need.

"You enjoy this," he said, his tone triumphant. "Being hunted. Being caught." The constant flow of tears on your face did nothing but excite him.

You didn't answer with words; your body spoke for you, arching into his touch, craving more. He growled, a primal sound that echoed through the night, and his lips found yours in a searing kiss, demanding and fierce. You kissed him back with equal fervor, losing yourself in the raw intensity of the moment.

His hands moved with a practiced ease, and before you knew it, your clothes were discarded, lost to the forest floor. The cool night air kissed your skin, but his touch was fire, burning away any chill.

His lips crashed into yours once again, the kiss demanding and possessive as his tongue explored your mouth. There was no gentleness, only raw need. His hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You moaned, arching into him, your own desire mirroring his.

It wasn’t long before he pulled you down to the ground, quickly deciding that he’d rather fuck you against the dirt than the trunk of the decades old tree.

He didn't waste time. This wasn't about romance or tenderness. This was primal, animalistic. His hands made quick work of his belt, tossing it to the ground before freeing his hardened cock.

He didn't wait, didn't ask for permission. There was a raw, primal need driving him, and you felt it too. He entered you with a force that took your breath away, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, deeper. The forest around you seemed to blur, the only reality the two of you, entwined in a dance as old as time.

The lack of foreplay had your eyes squeezing shut in pain for a few long moments but it was drowned out by the feeling of his fingers entering your mouth, shoving down until you gagged around his digits. He pulled them out with a pop, a wet coat of saliva glazing over them as he groaned at your compliance.

“Matty, let go!” you pleaded, but it only brought a feral smile to his lips. He could die a happy man in the exact position he was in at that moment, could swear your pussy somehow felt a million times better when your hands were clawing away at him, constant whimpers spilling from your lips, ones that couldn’t be differentiated between whether you were telling him to stop or go faster.

"Mine," he muttered, a promise and a claim, fucking into you with a strength that took the air out of your lungs. His hand trailed down from your lips to grope at your tits with a bruising force, kneading them and rolling your nipple between his fingers as his lips found their way to just below your jawline, biting and sucking, making sure to claim his territory.

You cried out, a sound that was swallowed by the night, as he set a relentless pace. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to bring you both pleasure and pain, to remind you of exactly who held the power. Your hands clawed at the grass around you, ripping it out of the ground as you struggled to free yourself despite not really wanting to be freed. Cries and pleads for him to stop escaped your lips, but much to your delight, he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he drove you both towards the edge. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his body against yours, the heat and intensity of his desire. He was everywhere, overwhelming, and you welcomed it, losing yourself in the raw connection between you.

Everything of existence around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, locked in this feral dance. His movements were relentless, each one driving you closer to the brink of insanity. You could feel the pressure building, your body trembling with the need for release.

Your moans mixed with the sounds of the night, a symphony of passion and possession as he fucked you deep and fast, his length stroking your velvety walls and brushing against your cervix with each thrust. His name was a prayer on your lips, his touch a command that you couldn't deny. The world narrowed down to the heat of his body against yours, the rhythm of his movements, the fire that burned between you.

Every thrust was a declaration, every gasp a promise. You were his, and he was yours, bound together in a moment of unfiltered need. The chase had ended, but the hunt continued, a never-ending dance of predator and prey.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough as his grip on your hips somehow tightened even more.

When you finally shattered, white hot ropes painting over his cock, it was with his name on your lips, a desperate, breathless cry that echoed through the trees. He followed you over the edge, a guttural groan escaping him as he found his release, his hold on you tightening possessively.

As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, you clung to him, your body trembling, your mind lost in the sensation. He held you close, a growl of satisfaction rumbling from deep within his chest.

For a moment, the world was still, the two of you entwined, breathless and spent. The only sounds were your mingled breaths, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He held you close, his grip easing but still firm, a reminder of the chase, of his victory.

Then, slowly, reality returned, the sounds of the night filling the air once more. He pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

"Run again, little bunny," he whispered, a challenge in his voice. "And next time, l might not be so fucking gentle."

You met his gaze, a smile of your own forming. The hunt was far from over. It had only just begun.

His eyes had softened slightly, the predatory gleam replaced by something else, something almost tender.

You nodded, too breathless to speak, but already eager for the next hunt, the next chase, because under the watchful gaze of the moon, you knew it was true. No matter how far you ran, he would always find you.

[rebeth]

tag dump / 1

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ IC ❩ ⎯ ❝ i am decay & i am love ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ OOC ❩ ⎯ ❝ seeker of darkness ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ VISAGE ❩ ⎯ ❝ tired eye & long fingers holding onto love ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ MUN ART ❩ ⎯ ❝ beauty is all around us ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ AES ❩ ⎯ ❝ close your eyes & just listen to the earth ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ MUSE ❩ ⎯ ❝ in this life we will burn away flesh & give way to awe ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ MUSIC ❩ ⎯ ❝ dancing barefoot under the moonlight ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ DASH GAME ❩ ⎯ ❝ to play with the child is to be one again ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ DASH COM ❩ ⎯ ❝ the masses agree more often than not ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ CLOSET ❩ ⎯ ❝ moth eaten wedding dresses & dirt covered silk ❞ . 

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥  ❨ QUEUE ❩ ⎯ ❝ i’ll see you again . ❞ .

[astralnymphh]

copy that, romeo

— ellie williams was supposed to be your supervisor, not your object of infatuation ~ ♡

⋆❝ this is cordero tower, calling in.❞⋆

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMERTIME INTERLUDE . NEXT CHAPTER > ♡. pair; firewatcher!ellie x recruit!reader

♡. summary; it's 1995, and the angel crater national park welcomes you; a retrograde lookout all to yourself, a space nerd for a supervisor, and a whole summertime job spent in hues of sepia and juniper, waiting for the first sign of smoke. ninety–three days. you don't know her face, you share no breath— but by walkie–talkie, you know her voice.

♡. a/n; READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. CLICK HERE. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. ALSO THIS.

♡. content; EVENTUAL SMUT, narrator present, silly fourth wall breaking, a dash of comedy, slowburn (somewhat), living alone, long–distance pining, reader/characters are similar ages(mid–late 20s), depression, heavy metaphor usage, complicated poetry styles, mentions of organs, mentions of weaponry, metaphorical death, grim humor, drinking alcohol, drunk!ellie, drunken flirting (vaguely and bluntly), ellie jumpscare, uh-oh sassy masc apocalypse, she's corny and cheesy too (a dork), awkwardness, humiliation, lighthearted bickering, nicknames used. [lmk if i missed anything] . SERIES PLAYLIST .

WC; 6.1k+ ✮ thank you @trackinglessons for your sexy brain and beautiful ideas + custom art ✮ masterlist ✮ series masterlist ✮ ellie ref sheet

Summertime is the interlude between misery and Mondays.

  May was a rough patch for you. A coagulated chapter within the spring world, a shunned ponder, red jello in the gradience of passage. Tempus, time. Early months hence were just as pessimizing, doubt is an arid reservoir in you. But, as a maypole sits a svelte giant in the sweet Beltane soil, braving an invisible smile whilst little ones— little laughters, spun prances and wraps of dainty satin to an ensnare on its long body, it weeped for its delicate capture. You; flesh coarse like timber, relate to the log standing, ensnared. Sunk in that gelatinous texture, unmoving as pressures collided with the surface outward, ripples everywhere yet incapable of sprinkling through you. Something would have to delve itself to drag you out.

  Chapters; cusp of autumn to April, every single month, wound ‘round you. They each had separating colors, and spared turns to soundly fold your limbs and bulge your skin in ribbons. It snipped your circulation, shriveled the ripe breath in your skull and traded it for a pressure. A throb. Weight upon the cranium, you felt the narrowing cradle inside wilt from thought, drain from consciousness, and soften your stiff eyes locked on drywall. Hour to hour.

  But those weren't the only things taunting you with a dance— expectations danced faster. Expectators, paired minds heaping expectations; yourself and the selves blackjacking their wants expressed as worries onto you. Stressful creatures, they are. Bosses, co–workers, energy vampires disguised as lover boys prowling about your workspace, general creatures of the retail world. God, they're like ravenous wolves snarling hunger through their teeth, slobber moonlight–bright of that dire carnality for variety meats. Depression just took the first serving before they could.

  Even the domesticated places are a wilderness untamed.

  Stress drained you of life. It softened your desire to even try. Gods are dulling, blamed you, on another dull morning where the trickling sound of coffee pouring drilled irk into your ears, rather than simply a trickle. Caffeine, a roast so void–black was brewed to un–drain you. Yet, it fuckin didn't.

  Impugning was your everything, until it could no longer purify; Elaine. Emptiness. Hmm, you gave this state of vacuum–headed hollowness a name, keenly because it deserved so by its dismantling of your autonomy. You don't want it. It's not you. It's Elaine. A some–angel fallen out of grace, weary of its wander upon a washed up cove, beige toned and swept shivering–cold. Interested by the warmth your sundry organs pushed into its light silhouette. 

  And perhaps, if the bird was never freed from its heavenly cage, it would be powerless to pester you, to poke the meat inside with the pointy end of plumage.

  Elaine was an organized assault on your wellbeing, moreso against the pulpy, pinkish-gray blob sitting ugly above your throat. Believe it, or assume it. A paralysis, moving shoulders from bed sheets proved farcical, running bristles over your teeth twice a day rhymes with nonsense, and midnight ink born to swirl and curtsy to convey thoughts gone rancid, goes unused atop the white flutter between your journal hardcovers. You have a morbid case of the seasonal blues, except this time, the season is beyond its blue hues. Spring, a fuckin’ kaleidoscope embellished. Blotches of big fuck you greens so vibrant you'd long to die from your tears, and an abstract spit of smell me reds thorny as your stomach brought to a scream for something. Anything.

It was a slow, banal descent into the jello.

  January, floating atop the sweet delicacy, atop your bed.

  February, the solidity gave out beneath you, goo subtly etching around your ankles, calves, elbows, unforgivingly cold when it first hit. When in reality, the bed was heating from your lay.

  March, marrow goes heavy, your limbs at this time could not lift, your efforts waned, and satiating the rumble in you with sustenance was forgotten, as that rumble got so, so.. quiet. 

  April, the jello had stuffed your nose, your sockets, and lullabied your ligaments. You let it happen.

May.

  You let yourself sink. Let yourself decompose and go mush in the head. Like a zombie.

  The descent doesn't taste of sweet delight, but it also fails to churn your lips with a heavy saccharinity. Neutral, your hopeful side did say. Nothing, rationality slapped past your lips.

Five months, either a misery, or a Monday.

  Yes Eve, a bite out of the Apocrypha will indeed fill this human abysm in me. Forbidden knowledge is my craving. Contraband of truth, bite to bite, I envy that I could not cope with its coating of my empty gut earlier.

  Innocence is so dull. You are depressed, not a fucking saint for staying indoors, starving your rage.

  But on came a crisp bouquet of biker–boy newspapers; ‘Hiring’, and a few scans further; ‘Do you harness a great love for the evergreen?’

  A honed section in Missoula's local print— jobs. A publisher boldens and compresses enthusiasm sporadically; writing–on–the–wall hollers speckle themselves meticulously on the newsprint that strike a sense of obligation into the susceptible and soft–of–heart chunk of the population. A pert voice read with persuasion between your ears, gritty in tone and stereotypical of a middle aged ranger, vocals fried by cigarettes but as booming as a cannon.

“Do you care for the animals inhabiting our national sanctuaries?”

  Abutting small paragraphs, the sagging belly of a black bear, tender caramel snout and snoopy–faced, fitted on its head a mustard yellow campaign hat labeled, ‘Smokey’. Its burly, blundering frame on all fours stood out over a comic–style vista of the Montana rockies, paws obscured by blocks of thickset text reading ‘Only you’.

  Huh, a realistic depiction of Smokey Bear— over a not–so–realistic background, avant–garde. 

  Tree greens sprawly that didn't shout ‘Fuck you’ on your poor, sunken eyes searing for sleep and a twilight darkness. Sagey lichens that didn't draw out the spasms above your own bones, calling your regard to bring pin–sized problems and blemishes sprawling your own flesh out of the bliss of ignorance. Brunette muds with only a fleck of sun, a slice of earth dull, humble and unprocessed enough from benevolence to leave you unconsumed, unsunken. A mere slop and pudge in the future and wake of your walk. Nothing obnoxiously grand, nothing sanctimonious. Nature is by birth— righteous, regardless.

  “Before we can be proud of our nation, our nation must be proud of us!”

  The advertisement gropes for a summertime made free. A cyclopean sinkhole in the becoming of time. Recruits–in–waiting are called to bargain normalcy and the bustling cities plump with lumbering limbs of sheen–tight pantyhose shaded under short shapes of plaid skirts for boot–cuts n’ backpacks hefty with gear that could either save you the trouble of mountaineering by path, or trouble your time with a faulty snapping of two things. Rope and neck.

Too grim?

  A months’–long moment of tension snapped at the pressure joint— Summertime the snapper.  You'd be devoting ninety–three suns, ninety–two moons, and some two–million breaths of fir laden air up in Angel Crater National Park, northwest of here. Pupils flickering the double-page setup, you continue: A pictographic, old–fashioned lookout taller than the timber spires surrounding would be your station, your core of operations, for those three young and sunny months. Boxed provisions and supplies are guaranteed to ship every other week, and testimonies encourage even the anxious, balmy buzzes of your brain to sigh in solace learning that the weald creatures there— are mostly harmless, if you aren't bred an imbecile. Alongside, an appointed supervisor, whose name was never disclosed duly except for a scratch of text gingerly clasped in quotations reading, “E.R.W” trailing the mention of said supervisor. What’s required of you was delivered plain written and patent on that shoddy newspaper, held thick in your intrigued thumbs; Keep the forest from catching wild fire.

  You fiddled the idea. Should I? Or should I wallow the summer away? Fiddled it anxiously, fiddled it needily, bumped the clumped rim of the newsprint on your cupid's bow in bending rumination, steadied it cause newspaper smells oddly good— but next to minutes racing hours upon musing, a conclusion had to knock your static looping of gloomdom in the butt.

  One phone call, and the bird would be barred again. Pesterer, Elaine the Terrible, would be cast back where eyes can't roll over the cottony clouds. Just a couple fucking prods to your number–pad, might genuinely un–drain you.

  Luckily, you aren't an idiot reared to take bullshit longer than meritted.

You took the job.

May 30th, 1995, 7:28 PM.

  What does any clever pedestrian traipsing capricious terrain store in their pack to avoid total gangly–branch–grips–of–nature butchery?

Item one; Black nylons— scratch that, you aren't getting paid to snag at every kink and curl of the forest, tighties of gossamery fabrics are a no–go. Citywear stays citywear. Double scratch on those sweet, blackberry Mary Janes too prized and polished to muck up in shit of the earth. Immolating the rigid underside of some chunky hiking boots to the unruly woodlands is the adrenaline pinnacle of out–worlding, come on. It proves you've got a hardy backbone and the right row of teeth to chew what you've bitten off, sullying boots ‘till the color is forevermore stained. Backup boots are tradition, so that's item number two. Best get used to cargo, ankle–length overalls and miscellaneous graphic tees, cause the rockies’ fashion gurus can't get enough of ‘em!

Clothing, check.

  Swathes of ropes twined pumpkiny orange and plenty of clanging anchors to bolt them in, goddesses and gods forbid you be tight on anchors. Medical kits— duh, did you trudge all from yonder just to die out here? This country is dicey, at the cuddly claw of a bear, or not. Hair ties, scrunchies you hoarded as a teenager in the eighties, disposable camera to suit your flaky memories, and an eclectic dump of nutty and fruity cereal bars galore. Unless you're allergic. Substitute.

Accessories and essentials, check.

  Ah, and a spare pistol and switchblade in replacement of newcomer paranoia! Keep that hush–hush though. No matches or lighters, obviously.

True American, illegal weaponry, check.

  All this paraphernalia bangs and clangs heavily on the polyester holding of your backpack, straining your scruff uncomfortably as you tiptoe, scarcely tumble, and tread lightly across a log. It creaks, it groans, it wobbles slightly over the blaring white rush of a stream, suctioning your heart–to–stomach when it grinds a wee bit louder than you thought it should.

  “Shit!” you crimp your torso in and dart wary hands on the timber beam at your feet, assuming a gawky newborn–bambi–pose in hesitation, shuddering in cracked tones, “This can't be the right way..” 

  Hoping on an evaporated sun, you frazzlingly testify in repetitive thought that the map mailed by the rangers a week prior led you on this perilous and incorrect path.. for the last two days. Winding and wounding, literally— your bruises are measureless and on top of that ache your skin to want no more of this. But, you have to. A boulevard of brown, short and stout, wrung unyielding from one gray side to the greener other, a shortcut. Assumed to be a shortcut, based on the route drawn by utter confusion.

Oh yeah, and remember the advertisement stating the park was twenty-five miles out?

Nothing about that hot-press, black-cat inked newspaper accounted for the extra eight weighing your ankles down and your motivation dead low. Twenty-five only stretched out unto the ranger parking lot. The entrance, for fuck's sake.

  Shaky flit of your digits, they float gently off the carve–veined surface of the wood, unfolding your spine as you rise. “Wrong way—” you utter to your chest, oven–warm as it puffs, “—gotta be the wrong..” 

  Tentative–ism is normal here, right? Like, no way you're cautious and sweating at the brow for nothing. Right? 

  One foot— creeakkk— in front of the prudent other, two sailing lunges, three hurried hops and a matched thud soft as marshmallows plants your shoes to hallowed ground. Blades of verdant whiskers so innocent crush under, and it feels fucking— demeaning, actually. All that gulping and pausing.. for nothing.

  You tuck a shoulder–glance to the makeshift ricket of a bridge, and blankface, “Didn't feel like killing me today?”

The tree bears no reply.

  “Hmph, surprising. Seeing as someone killed you,” a sigh parts, fading into the whip and straightening of your head, “figured the pursuit of revenge doesn't stop at ghosts.” and the hoist of your boot up, carrying onward.

  Sundown paints, crescent layers repose approaching moonlight and dying sunlight sprawls psychedelic limbs above you. Balance ambling in tiny bops only made the swirling grasp of those gradient rays more trippy on your eyes and coercive of daydreams, rot–nip for the brain. You spot nutbrown brick— a fireplace in your mind, fevered heat roasting on the inside wall of your forehead too. It was Christmas before the storm, a subzero December. And it was, in fact, colder than the unreachable heaven. Dad was hunkered down in front of that innocuous amber crackle, his right leg slack to the ground and his left arched in the neck of an acoustic guitar, arms plaiting its hollow curve into his chest. 1971, when the veil through and within was thin, and love–vomit poured so easily through. A time of justified ignorance; Childhood. 

  Stood you adjacently, legs short and posolutely not stout, dimpled in the knees. Aged two years, and mushy as ambrosia, contorting your mouth jubilant as you're told for the camera, contrary to your father with his expression drooping to his strumming fingers. Sickly sweets, adult–you unpurposefully neglects to twirl lips at, your extraordinary grins now turned ordinary flat–lines. Holiday memoirs, those spoiled ripe quick after adulthood bolted itself in the slabs of your tender spine and instilled an artificial love for labor and country, displacing nostalgia from ever being seen as a flesh existence. 

“Say cheese!”

  America is sub–human, and sub–humans created America, the imperfect cycle. Families tear, eagles outcry, friends drink their death, and the days continue to unfold without a trace of acknowledgement. Days exist where you soak festivities and stave off the pointer–finger poking at so called slack you relish, and some twenty dwindling years ahead the slowly deadening oak grove road, carousals will be criminally known as layabout–makers.

Joy is a luxury now.

  A blockage prevents your foot from winching clean forward, meeting the bone–hard kiss of a boulder to sore your toes. “Fuck!” you brand your throat walls to a shout, pissed at the rock rather than your woolgather that lead you to said rock, “Fucking fuckhead rock!”

  Woolgather means daydreams, by the way. Funner to use words that don't make a split of sense. Yay for English.

 The sunset clouds dripped with a mania of fascination and had strung your brain to its hypnotic whims, like a siren had soloed a trance, drifting your mind somewhere utopian and phantasmagorical. It sounds silly, but, blanking out seems so often out of grasp from your control, you usually could never flag what caused it, when it started, and why. Nothing practical surfaces. Fuck, your head is so tangled upon memories, you haven't even noticed the progression of scenery twelve o’clock from you. 

  Ponderosa boughs band together where your eyes brush shapes and forage for a clue of what scene wants to greet you ahead. The sequestering silence of rustles indicates a clearing, possibly. Possible as it could be, you fully expected this cruel footslog to wallop your ass into a minefield, so you bet cards and course carefully beneath the crowns of pine, completely bent to the chance of another obstacle threatening your tender ankles. Leafy whispers above strum your ears brimmed with its sotto voce song, and then— colors it silently behind.

“Holy shit.”

  Presence crumbles above you, and opens before you. The lookout. Wood shafts slant in opposing directions, up and up along four brawny beams in three consecutive layers, like a blocky cone. The face closest to you overlaps the backing rest, giving the illusion of tufted wooden legs sketched under all lackadaisical. Endgame daylight spies from behind this one–roomed cyclops, gushing final spurts of citrus rays as if it truly was an orange squeezed to pulp. So, the flank and forehead of that towering, mountainscaping lookout rolling a cold shoulder to the sun, paves in a tattered tapestry of garnet smokiness instead. Shadow of sundown. From where you sow feet, a football field apart, petty details are difficult to squint into clarity, but the window panes appear tawny, too.

  An intimidation, “So much for a tiny room.” A beaute intimidation, “And no actual bathroom.” it makes you feel like a genuine insect compared.

  A sort of stairwell serpent faintly chokes the foot, the calves, the thighs, and punctures kindly a mouth leading up to the skirting balcony hedged in many gaunt teeth. Tamping gravel closer, subtleties and fine points fade as the tower's plank–lined and flat underbelly turns to you. Larger and larger, it dips darkly from miniscule masquerade.

  Bringing your decently aching foot to the first step, you press into the curb and meander your cruder aching— thanks to a random boulder— foot weirdly on the outer ridge of your boot. Making it up the stairs to fund yourself a fucking break was a palpable mockery in itself. Like, ‘Hey! Climb this long–ass stairwell for a teensy break before doing it all over again the next day!’. 

Un–fucking–believable. 

  Fifty years of history and past rangers grate in your walk, the floorboards thump with their stories, thump into your skin— verse you a wordless eulogy. Each step is a sentence, and every sentence branches into a whole tree of genealogy, lives. Lifestyles you can't understand now, but will.

  Really redundant of me to highlight the generations alive in those floorboards. The walk up there isn’t that exciting.

  After the last step, you're met eye–to–frame with a scratched door, pygmy window centered and paper–screened from within, and the stories predating your stay inspire a comical theory, “Jeez— bears make it up here?” you half–suppress a snort, palming a fist on the doorknob coldly before rotating and giving sympathetic pressure to the door.. jammed. 

  “C’mon..” knuckles pulse into the knobs plate, gradually upping the force you pushed, “.. losing light out here..” eventually adding your other hand to sweeten the push.

  Sure, a whole year has gone by since it homed somebody, and it's retro, but come on.

  Breaking splinters into the door was your last intention, so you try so–so carefully— to some extent, “Please..” now butting the tip of your boot on the rim to ease it— ease, and finally pry, a clapback of wind blowing dusty, nightfall air past your crescent cheeks following the snap of the fallow door.

  Thank goodness for your grace and balance, some days, avoiding a timely trip face–first to a floor so powdered in light dust, any kid would mistake it for a good time sweeping snow angels. 

  Not so good for the respiratory system though.

  Muggy space filtering your lungs tightly, you cough out, “Gah— fuck!” nothing higher than the level of a guttural wheeze, your chest punching into your throat. Gaping out the last flock of butterflies clumped at your collarbones, the tickle inside calms, and you find your sights taking in a dark box. A dim orb of lily silver glow rests in the middle of the pall room, raising the natural, “Where's the ligh— ah, big clunky thing—” 

  Flicking the off–white and stubby nub attached to an impractically sized lightswitch, which frankly resembles an electric box externally, an essence of Apollo ladens the room. Lemony–gold light, passably bright off the redwood ceiling, and murmuring a low buzz through one ear, and out the other, your pupils caper along the contrasting shades awakened.

  “Definitely retro, but.. no roommates.” spoke you, gingerly content with the colors piecing this camper pad together. You observe.

  Forget–me–nots bled the cotton bedsheets baby blue, leavening the mattress with a tidy emotion as it's tucked, folded at the top and draped in a complimentary quilt— benevolent blues, hues your lids soften on. The bed beelined from the doorway, a corner counter fawn–brown as the wood extends adjacent to it, covering the northeastern angle of the room. Magpied brands of canned food clutter shelves, spines spanning thick books of epic poetry to sci–fi comics create a ribcage of literature along a compact bookcase perching that countertop, and sunken in the east side of it, a steel sink. It shimmered sunflower bands of light as you moved, a rainbow–arched faucet brightened completely.

  Step by step, you draw near a circular table in the middle. Strange rods and gadgets stuck out of the borders, inlaid glass protecting a local map so sleek you could see a phantom of your face in it, and a black bar looming the width, so it rings with tangible importance. Of which you'll gauge about later. Truthfully, the journey by foot here? Dead–beating, your knees bloated, throbbed flesh hot, and almost buckled; fatigues infamous way of scolding you to sit the fuck—

“Sup Maple lake, you there?” 

  A pang hammers to your heart, and a crawlish wave of startled blood pales from your face and drops to your jaw, “Jesus!” sweat hitting you a blink after, every normal function just— flunked. That voice, more like a ruptured stereo sizzling, caught you the fuck off guard. Now you dither, dumbassery taking your eyes through a new loop of figuring out where–why–how and what the robotic intruder wants.

  But pre–realizing, your ears perk to a more coherent, and outstretched string of static, “C'mon, know you're checked in.” and post–realization tugs your eyes to a mustardy n’ black cased device; a walkie–talkie.

  Okay, way to creep recruits out. Whoever, for whatever reason— at the nick of night too, gimme’ a break. You wry, knitting raisin crinkles above your nose, trying to discern your palette of options; pick up the walkie, tap in and feign politeness in the shortest and sluggiest scraps of small talk to be done with the day, or rant off the bat— highlight how fucking late it is, and how taxing a double–goddamned–day hike made your head and patience feel. And right now, the second response route feels arguably more tempting than—

  “This is Cordero Tower, calling in. Can see ya’ standing by the Osborne, by the way.” 

  Its staticy feedback has waned completely, densening a thick husk and tilting towards a honeyed undertone. Relaxed sounding or not, what the fuck.

  You react predictably, flicking your chin west, then east only for you to meet the dead of night— thanks mountains— stalking perfectly in every single window. So, useless to check. Answering it was a yes–go, it would be sickenly awkward to thrust it under the rug now. Your knees pull forward, eyes calligraphing the power buttons tinted in cherry light, palm drawing to meet your focal point.

  The case is ribbon gentle under your fingertips’ graze, fresh and in store–new condition. Maybe the only thing hot from the pot of newfangled technology. Plastic intricacies roll under until you settle on a swollen button, denting the plush of your finger as you press, hold, and speak. A crisp crackle activates your line, tuning you in.

    Breath hesitates between your chords, “Maple.. lake.. speaking,” off–the–tongue words manifesting on–the–spot, “you can see me?”

  “Yeah.” the walkie chuckles, sugary curl pitching up and through their tone, “Look out ur’ north window, you'll see her.”

Her?

  Nooking your nose north, you only widen pupils on that same, starless coast of darkness nosing the rim of your window sills. What do they mean to—

  “Nh–no,” You literally said north, “get closer to the window, n’ look up.” What, are you a fucking sparkling, rasp–voiced eagle?

  “Fuck are you talking about,” mouthed you void of voice, stumped on what this person was getting at. Wedging your knuckles below the meshy underside of your backpacks right strap, you wrangle it down your arm as you glide rubbery sole along croaking oak, tossing that bag so cumbersome atop a lily white pillow— looking fresher than a daisy, and clamber the mattress pliantly dented to your knees to grasp a broader panorama. 

  And with that window hood washed over, a convoy of fireflies focus a tiny constellation in the murked glass. Little pinholes of light, dots in the distance. They rough–hew a blur, but the excess seconds taken to brood squints and balance the blurry blotches, an outline crops up. Another fire lookout, sprouting from rock and rise of a berg. Offspring of the distant cordillera that gives this whole park its sense of a cradled–woodland, but either way thought, a lookout hosts it home on top.

  “You can see me from all the way out there?” you wondered, truly. I mean— at minimum, a sore sprawl of miles bridges you both.

  “Mhm..” a pause loiters that fluid hum, then some really throaty syllables, “Binoculars~” you could almost envision— nah, feel the stare of those binocs, undoubtedly taking note of every contort in your body right now.

  “Oh thats, totally.. not,” you blunt your tone, shying a few inches from the glass, “.. creepy.” awkwardly. “Uh, who are you anyways— are you like, uh, another recruit?” as you engage small talk, grumpy frown pouting, the habit of kissing your wrist to your jaw as you would a piglet–tailed telephone overruns your burnt out focus, having to wince the walkie away when your eardrums nearly burst.

Ouch.

  “For one, I'm actually your supervisor. I know, I don't sound like a typical smoker–lunged, middle–aged white dude.” their tone gruffs and deepens to impersonate, finger air quotes practically radiating from the other end, “And two, my name is Ellie— Ellie Miller–Williams, if you care.”

  “Don't.” you heave out the pain stretching your head, aching each time you simply thunk.

  “Straightforward,” her timbre ups in approval, seemingly, “I like it. I like you, recruit I dunno’ the name of.” and a bubble hics her throat, quite audibly.

  “Not single.” Wrong, just uninterested. Hooking two fingers in the fabric handle of your bag and craning it to the ground, with scattered grates of plastic buckles skating the floor.

“What?”

  Oh, shit she wasn't— oops, ‘course she meant that platonically, heads so damn muggy,  “Uh, it's—my name.. sorry I’m just a bit out of the loop—” Dumbass, unscramble your brain alphabet soup, will you?

  “That’s a long ass name, what were your parents thinking? Haha.” Her duo–beat chuckle flares your humiliation, and then proceeds to pinch its swollen parts into total inflammation, “Where does it originate from?”  

  Cheesy bitch, “Can you not— I like, pfhh..” you temper yourself with a moon–cool blow to chap your lips and inflate your cheeks, ending up with a draw of an even more loosened tongue sour as it complains, “Did a whole two–day hike through the most torturous terrain just to get here, I really don't—”

Please.

  And if gripes trudged through teeth aren't persuasive enough, you recess your bone–ache bod avidly in the springy haven of your bed which chirped at your weights shifting motions, collarbones packing down on your vocal chords. You shouldn't sound up to chat whatsoever. Instead, vehemently drained, “I just wanna get some shut eye, talk me over n’ the mornin’.” your thumb lying a button away from disconnecting. 

  “Hey, hey—” Ellie ushered, her slurry breath fogging up the mic. Lips squeak softly into it, smacking before an intone, “Can't I be a little curious?”

  You synchronized in noise, sucking teeth behind heart–pursed lips, “Do you think somebody this exhausted has the appetite to entertain you?” stilling your thumb–pad on the power off key.

  “If I keep bothering you,” that alone ticked you, her blatant drive to carry on when your brain rejected its substance, “.. yeah. Maybe you'll be nicer then too.. huph!” a heartier peep hicced up on the speaker, and right then that noise jogged a discovery.

“Are you drunk?” has to be.

  Of course, she ignores the naked and sorely obvious, “Did your boyfriend break ur’ heart or something— an’ that's why you're out here?” bottle sloshing in the background of her mumble.

  Dumbstruck, you furrow a miffy expression, “W–what, boyfriend?” 

  “Said you weren’t single.” she recalls, warmly unspinning the fuddle that knit your brows, “Think I forget so easily?” drawled like a sultry retort, baking your ears.

You a hundred percent forgot though.

  Gosh, short–term memory sucks, or it's just your energy drought making you woozy. Blame it on lethargy, “No no, that was just.. tired talk. I thought you were hitting on me.” 

  “Oh? That's cute.” her choosing to say that latter statement unfolded discordantly, you seriously couldn’t gauge if that was a flirt, or another paper daisy— mock honey, a platonic notion. Even so, it sounded so damn smooth, lace to the ears. “But no, I wasn't— m'not like gay or ‘whutever.” stammered her, light snort fanning.

  A stifled chuckle hops from your chest, mixing with hers, “Uhuh, cool.” halfway uncaring and halfway amused, bafflement working your facial muscles. 

  “Yeah, um, but seriously..” her voice drifts into a ponderous rasp, the faint rustles of flimsy paper licking page to page subtler than her speech, “what's got you out here, newbie?”

“Newbie. Really?” A brow pricks.

  “I mean, you're new— new to the lookout, new to the job, in need of my phenomenal supervision and my wide range of knowledge. Yeah, a newbie.” 

  Then your brow mellows, tension held in your face dropping dead on backhanded flattery, “You are funnily agonizing.”

  “Aw.” her scratchily suave coo has your jaw set like stone, “That's so sweet.” but her short–lived song has your heartstrings soaked in ripe honeycomb, touched to the core by sweetness nebulose and an assortment of some foreign threads. Thickened heart, tighter ribs, a churn to weaken your stomach, a maverick of things unfamiliar to you.

  Momentaries, but still noticeable even if your senses were twisted backwards.

  Chewing over how you'll begin to explain, a few letters sift through your chords, until you hook on a sigh, “Ah, well, I'm out here for a fuck ton of reasons—”

“Reasons, or— huhp, problems?” Ellie blurt–hics, nosy.

“..”

  A brief gulp and exhale wheezes from her, “Sorry, it's the bourbons’— super good. Continue.” 

 You loosely split your mouth, gasping to exchange a gale for words pressing out, “A series of reasons, and problems, that I don't bother to lay on a grand platter, so you'll get a summary tossed on an appetizer plate.” you preface. Allow an elliptical gap to cut through, rousing her hum to let you know her ears are as intent–peaked as a Chihuahua’s, “Contact with my parents’ has gone cold, my last job made me want to hurl into a pack of crocodiles— and the city became too loud and too heavy–handed. Saw this job on the local paper, and got the hell out of dodge.”

An omissive summary, you meant. 

  There’s more that eats the heart. People can’t just.. drop the burden of knowledge wantonly on randos like they’re idling under fertile treetops waiting for the apples to plummet, biting into a pulpy biography. She’s just a girl, not a therapist.

  A discomforted purr lengthens into her reply, “Mmmmh, ever try a drink or two?” her intoxicated reply.

  “Oh, see,” you flap your hand and slap it to your denim clad thigh, “you are drunk.” as if she could even see your gesture.

  “No, I’m Ellie, hmhm~” comes with a giggle, and you consider her state of insobriety to be— wavering, but it’s stimulating to hear her fluctuate between groaned jokes and extra raspy comments, “Still haven’t told me your name though.”

  Some moments during this whole ‘Who are you?’ seminar made you concerned for your future here— if you’ll make it out psyche intact, but some moments found by winnowing through the illogical backtalk touched you with inbound camaraderie.

  Invisible touches that inhabit your neck with a leak of your name so— sincerely. It transforms into a fairer sound on your ears when she repeats it, affirming it. Nobody else's teeth clutches your name so welcome as she.

  “Hmm, ‘name kinda fits your voice.” odd commentary, but since composed with her already peculiar and drunken tongue, the shoe fits.

  That said, crabby confusion seems easier to articulate, “Thanks, weirdo.” but lips rebellious, they press an inevitable grin together. 

“No problem, sleepyhead.”

So many nicknames.

  Recognizing that downtick in hubbubs and breaths on the walkie, checking out for the night posed as a passionate option the burden weighing your eyelids couldn't or shouldn't veto. So you haul your torso up, kick and poke your toes over ankles to butt your boots off prior planting your heels, whisking toward the lightswitch and committing your lookout to swell with the outside's dark fresco. 

Stygian tones.

  “Speaking of sleepy heads..” you taper off speech, leaving the rest to her— touch wood— wide enough, hopefully–not–drunk–enough imagination to fathom as you slide and slip desperately beneath woolen blankets, sleepy worries, and sentences sailed to rest.

  “Aw man.” Ellie bums so, so stupidly, for comical value.

“Yeah, man.”

  “Mpht—” wetness smacks, “wanted to bore a pretty girl to death with recruit regulations and syllabi..”

How would you know?

  In reality, Ellie was reaching a transcendent caliber of wasted, drinking up your atmospherics and drunken to her gutly core. Woods hatch forlorn people; forlorn people get thirsty, “But, mhh, heads’ nearly falling off, whoof.” she expresses a soaring of vowels, but it parallels a gruff howl more. 

  Drowsy, buzzy jubilancy, plucking her flirty strums. You sugarcoat the flare in your chest hearing ‘pretty girl’, ears clicking to the swallow convincing your heart that Ellie was not flirting. As established; She’s under the influence, and not gay. Your brain repeats that, over and over, repeat, repeat, she isn’t flirting. 

  “Hey, here's a tip..” you inch the walkie a penny away from your flopped head, clefting your lip open, “Don't get drunk on the job. They didn't hire you to decoct your brain the day before chaperoning a recruit in the literal wilderness. So, stash that shit, n’ let's both get some shut eye, yeah?” and saying all that, may have just cashed in your last dose of breath and brain cells for the night.

  Ellie being Ellie— well, what you suspect is a ‘her’ thing after these few speckled minutes, dopily laughs at you. And dammit if she wasn't glamoring a dopey smirk in accord, you’ll have gleaned wrong.

  A voice, “Who’s the boss again?” her witty and cruel wisecrack, “They didn't pay you to boss the— hup, boss around.” 

  They will pay you to confront and reflect your spectrum of limits if this girl brushes their seams, that's for certain. Or, play God and lambast her, tender as milk.

  There's even a stroke of a chance, that your crooked lips poached her dopey grin instead, “Kay, well, maybe they'll reimburse me for your poor services.” 

  “My services are not poor. You'll see, tomorrow.” the volume of her melts away, going muted under liquid swills clanging on glass.

  “Please tell me that's the sound of you putting the bottle away.”

  “Mhm!” came out plugged, the bottle confining her garble, then popping clean as a cork, “Fuck— okay,” she siphons air in, pure little clink tinting the end of her sharp–edged sniffle, “Make sleeping in earlier worth it t’morrow, wanna drive you nuts with my questions.” she nasals, drawing near the mic again.

  Such a magpie, “Cause you're lonely?” and weird.

  “Shut up,” she shushes you, a satin whisper light–hearted and quick on beat, “M’not lonely anymore, right?” The type of softly spoken outcry that would balloon your cheeks with soreness if you were face–to–face with the throat that conducts it. Involuntary smiles plague you everywhere. But there is no mouth, no larynx, no throat that you view the swallow of. Just a walkie, so you settle in stoicism.

  You tug your upper–lip and pivot your eyes, drumming up something clever to combat, “In a sense. Not like we’re bunkmates, thank goodness.”

  “Fuck you,” Ellie breaks into a cuss spout so serenely, she sounded small and harmless, “just go to bed.” reduced to birch in winter shed of its brittle autumn arguments.

“Don’t gotta tell me once.”

  By the first full and emphatic giggle she cast just now that wasn’t suppressed nor achieved by humble pie, you take it that Ellie found you funnily harrowing just as her, two peas in an outstretched pod. Fault be with her, for getting wasted. Otherwise, you might have pried her skull open with questions dolled up as a pruner, clipping the forelimbs that are foliated in a messy breadth of first glance leaflets and attitudes until you piece it prettily, in a way that thralls you to never shrink your eyes back into their sockets. Drunk people are like prone beehives though, so you don't prod them.

Tomorrow, you can paint her portrait, or vice versa.

“Whatever you say, newbie.”

And with the whirry crunch of the walkie shutting off, Monday, came to a close.

if you enjoyed this chapter, please lmk what you thought!! i love getting asks about my content ♡

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[calisources]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on these meme make references to royal balls, medieval ballrooms or regency, basically set during any period drama. You can change names, pronouns, titles and more as you see fit. Most of these were taken from different source materials found via google search. This meme makes references to masquerades, royal dances and partners.

Dancing, at its best, is independence and intimacy in balance.

Dance is the timeless interpretation of life.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

Masks reveal. They don’t conceal. Masks reveal your cravings, your passion, your deepest most secret desires.

It was you. I know it was you.

Look at me, Kia! Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not her.

And who shall you be once you don your grand disguise?

I don't like to hear you talk about yourself that way. Your scars do not define you, young lady. Your action do.

All the ladies must dress the same and the men have to find their partners. It’s a game of sorts. 

Even the smallfolk have their own version of the ball, at the steps of the castle.

Swoon, Dora. Every young woman deserves to swoon over the love of her life.

Dash it, Everton, how'd you know it was me?

A masquerade could have been a beautiful dance. 

 Oh, well. What's a royal ball? After all, I suppose it would be frightfully dull, and-and-and boring, and-and completely... Completely wonderful.

Each finds a partner, and upon the bell, we must change partner until we find the one we came to be. . .or the one we desire.

It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you.

If the princess is not too occupied, I would wish for a dance, perhaps?

The Queen and King have to open the ball but the King is gone. No mind, I shall be in his place.

Sometimes in life confusion tends to arise and only dialogue of dance seems to make sense.

If we want our men to dance, we have to inspire them. 

 But with something more, something bigger, something that will give them a reason to want to dance.

But when balls are held for pleasure, They're the balls that I like best.

Will you be my princess for the Ball?

Keeping pushing, Andrei, and you and I are going to play a game.

Nothing like a ball to cheer a nation, give the old lords wine and the young boys the opportunity to find a nice woman and everyone shows up.

Where are you taking me? The ball hasn’t ended.

Royals is like a beautiful, broken angel: hard to look at, but utterly impossible to turn away from.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

How many dances is one allowed before people begin to whisper?

You cannot behave like a brute. It is my duty to dance with every suitor. I am their princess.

I do not recognize you, my lord? Are you from these lands? 

It is bad luck to steal a princess.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

There is nothing quite like dancing in the moonlight. It sets your soul on fire and your heart aflutter.

The beauty of a ball is not just in its grandeur, but in the connections it sparks, the emotions it stirs, and the hopes it ignites.

Just keep your eyes on me. No one else here matters.

I shall keep dancing with you until you stop being stubborn and go speak with me. Or you rather have people whisper?

The princess looks beautiful tonight, does she not?

Father, please, you must dance as well. Your dull looks are making people bored.

You promised me a dance when you were better. Are you?

I've loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together and every time we've been apart.

I can feel people's eyes on me.

Every time I walk into a ballroom, I know they are comparing me to Daphne.

You both get to choose your passions and adventures, while my beloved is chosen by me. And now I must join them for a dance.

Are you planning on running away when the clock strikes midnight? 

If you do wish to go away, I know a spot, secluded enough.

You wish for me to go with you, alone, unchaperoned. I am a maiden, my lord. 

Aye, but I am no lord, sweet maiden. And these masks allow us some privacy.

This is my last chance to find a match on my own accord. If I don’t. The King will do it for me and I would rather not.

 I'm only a girl, not a princess.

Believe me - they're all looking at you.

 They're all looking at you.

You are requested and required to present yourself to your king.

 I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit But, if it does--will you take me as I am?

 It would be an insult to take you to the palace dressed in these old rags.

How charming, how perfectly charming.

When I go back, they will try to pair me off with a lady of their choosing. I'm expected to marry for advantage.

Oh. Well, whose advantage would this marriage be of?

I hope you don't find our kingdom too confining.

I am. An apprentice monarch. Still learning my trade.

Our prince seems quite taken with her.

She went straight for him. You have to appreciate her efficiency.

Walk into the room knowing you are the best. Shoulders back, chin up. Their attitudes will totally change.

You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams.

The ball is about to come to an end, and you have yet not told me your name. 

I thought we agreed we would remain strangers.

I’m afraid my true identity would put you in danger. 

Have you ever been kissed by a stranger at the end of a ball? If not, let me be the first.

Put him on all the invitation lists, he's a divine dancer.

I’m afraid I’m more used to swordfight than ballroom.

You will ruin your pretty gown, princess. I would not wish to step on your toes.

 Silly, I am a great dancer, no one ever steps on my toes.

No. Let them dance. Interrupting would cause a scandal.

One of these men will be my husband one day. What a thought.

The art of husband seeking at it’s peak, during royal ball season. 

Maiden beware, a gentleman can become a beast when the bell strikes.

[caelwynn]

WiP Ask Game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you @lyntergalactic for the tag!

My poor WiP folder.... Gawsh, um, there's a lot in there, including chapter titles for all of my series Choices plus a few other bits and bobs. I'm going to list my non-Choices stuff first, then put a read more with all the Choices chapter titles to both spare people's dashes and avoid spoilers for any who want to fly blind with my main fic.

Flotsam and Jetsam

SCB2 - 01 Changes - Spring (2) (so rough it scours)

SCB2 - 02 Changes - Summer (1) (bits and bobs edition)

SCB2 - Epigraphs and Memories

WCHB 204 - Dinner with Friends

WCHB 205 - The Ghost You Dressed Up As

WCHB 206 - What Did You Bury

WCHB 207 - To See a Friend

WCHB 401 - Ridgeside Dance Class (rename before posting)

WCHB - Blue Tower

WCHB - Cracked

SCB1 - 02 Choices - Summer - Chapter 24 - The Cavalry SCB1 - 02 Choices - Summer - Chapter 25 - Mending SCB1 - 02 Choices - Summer - Chapter 26 - Ocean Drive SCB1 - 02 Choices - Summer - Chapter 27 - The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies

SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 1 - Third Wheel SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 2 - Panic SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 3 - My Old Life SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 4 - Something There SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 5 - Gifts SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 6 - Temptation SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 7 - Friendship SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 8 - The Stardew Valley Fair SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 9 - Oblivious SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 10 - Inviting June (rename later) SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 11 - Self-Deception SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 12 - Colliding Worlds SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 13 - Enough SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 14 - Runaway Train SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 15 - Gossip SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 16 - Accomplishments SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 17 - Kissing Game (rename later) SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 18 - Drunk SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 19 - What She Deserves SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 20 - Facing the Past (still need to tighten) SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 21 - Sterling's Choice SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 22 - High (rename later) (shift to June PoV in Loco Moco scene) SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 23 - Erratic SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 24 - Now 'n' Forever SCB1 - 03 Choices - Fall - Chapter 25 - Home to Roost

SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 1 - Fine and Dandy SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 2 - A Fane (expand Rosa and Bryle) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 3 - Needed (check against video) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 4 - Two Steps Forwards (rename) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 5 - And One Step Back (rename) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 6 - Keystone SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 7 - Callie's Choice SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 8 - That's What Friends Are For SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 9 - Reconciliation SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 10 - Home SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 11 - Reality SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 12 - The Community Center (rename later, shift PoVs) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 13 - Stargazers SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 14 - A Festival of Ice SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 15 - Collateral Damage SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 16 - A Heart-to-Heart SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 17 - Tribute SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 18 - A Bit of a History (rename later) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 19 - Regret SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 20 - Sharp SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 21 - His Firecracker SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 22 - The Night Market SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 23 - Hard Choices (rename later) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 24 - A Lack of Drama SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 25 - Shane's Choice SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 26 - Moving Forward (rename later) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 27 - Rewards SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 28 - The Feast of the Winter Star SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 29 - Community (rework office fight) SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 30 - Improvements SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Chapter 31 - Embers of Resolution SCB1 - 04 Choices - Winter - Epilogue (Teo's Appointment or Going Home)

I don't have near enough people to match my listed WiPs, so....

tags (if you're so inclined): @shortysus4, @ksolopolo, @el-dritchknight, @peeweekey, @daveythefool, @sdvbraindump, @nymnous, @starlightiing Plus anyone else who wants to play!

[lostplotbunniesbg3]

Astarion x Wyll marriage of convenience au

Wyll needs to marry asap for whatever posh political reasons (with a dash of self-sacrifice of course). He thinks it over in some shady tavern and gets propositioned by Astarion who works there as a sex worker. Wyll proposes a deal - he gets a spouse who won't mind his lack of love and Astarion gets out of the brothel. For a while Astarion just revels in luxury and annoys Wyll’s noble social circle. Eventually, maybe the plot catches up to them and they have to rely on each other in danger and develop feelings, maybe Astarion decides that seducing Wyll will give him a better position in all of this, maybe Wyll just catches feelings on his own and suffers in silence, but feelings there are.

More of a longfic idea

Doesn't matter NSFW or not

Do want: a bit of humor, they both are hilarious in their own way, Wyllach being besties at least acknowledged, at least one ballroom dance scene💃

Don't want: Imbalanced fic (I love them both! Gimme both!), game retelling.

A Gentleman Vampire Bunny Goes To The Ball Wyll/Astarion AU!

Looking for a bunny to take on long walks in the moonlight after an evening at a fancy masquerade with all the nobles? Look no further! This little plot bunny has a lot of ideas to have some fun alongside the deep storytelling potential, as long as you don't stray too close to the game plot. There's a really nice potential here too for switching POV between the pair, to dig deeper into the feelings of each as they develop through the events of a longer story. Is there an edge of forbidden love to the pair, with the noble seeking affection from one of lower station? Will other potential betrothed seek to thwart their relationship or expose it as a lie, until doing so ends up exposing the truth of their feelings for each other in a moment of haste or peril? Can the Blade save the Pale Elf from a lifetime of struggling to get by, and can that same Elf keep a hero's heart safe when he's finally ready to share it?

Lots of beautiful ideas here, see where they lead you!

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

✨ Ashes Masterlist ✨

So just wanted to say that this will most likely be something that always updates so there's that but just so it's easier to find me other medias I'm going to list em here. If there are any questions or even commissions you want to send just inbox me! ;3

~

Wattpad - Arrow_of_Spite

Ao3 - AshesBreadAndButter

Discord - Ashes_Ashes_We_All_Fall_Down

Patreon - (Reworking)

Cashapp - $ArrowofSpite

Paypal - (Reworking)

Reworking meaning I'll have to set them back up again so currently unavailable but not likely to stay as such.

Last Updated: 02/20/24 @ 11:11

Pink = active link included

Dash with nothing = wip

White titles = Coming Soon

✨ = Fluff

🔞 = Smut

🫂 = Angst

~

👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾 MasterList Continues Below 👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

-

Avatar

Avatar/Legend of Korra

🔞 Tarlok x Avatar Reader -

🔞 Amon x Avatar Reader -

Across The Spiderverse

🔞🫂✨ Miguel O'Hara x Reader -

The Arcana

🫂 Valdemar x Reader - Kissing the Night Away

🫂🔞 Nadia x Reader - Let's Run Away Together

🔞 Julian x Reader - Bark Lil Doggie

🫂 Julian x Reader - Sunlit Bliss

✨ Vulgora x Reader - Dancing In The Moonlight

🫂✨ Asra x Reader - It's Been So Long

✨Lucio x Reader - My Brave Warrior

The Arcane

✨🫂 Silco x Partner In Crime Reader - Watch The World Burn

🔞 Silco x Nemesis Reader - Lovers Quarrel

🫂 Jinx x Reader - With You to The Very End

Baldurs Gate 3

🫂🔞 Astarion x Reader - I want to Help You Thrive

Black Butler

🔞 Sebastian x Claude - You Know You Can't Live Without Me

🔞 Sebastian x Reader - How About A Little Game Of Hide & Seek?

🔞 Claude x Reader - Heat Of The Moment

✨🔞 Undertaker x Zombie Reader - You are Mine

Castlevania

🫂✨🔞 Alucard x Reader- I Need You To Help Me Forget

🔞 Olrox x Reader - I Might Bite

Creepypasta

🔞 Candypop x Reader - Funtime Wonderland

🔞🫂 Jason the Toymaker x Reader - Be My Doll

🔞 Slenderman x Reader - Cat & Mouse

🔞✨ Jeff the Killer x Reader - I Like Wanting You

Demon Slayer

🫂✨ Uzui Tengen - To the Moon and Back

🔞 Muzan x Reader - Master's Prince/cess

🔞 Douma x Reader - Say That You Can Take It

🔞✨ Hangenki x Reader - Wife of My World

Detroit Becomes Human

🔞✨ Connor x Reader - Let's Break The Rules, Fuck It

🫂🔞 Ralph x Reader - Heated Hotspots

🫂🔞 Marcus x Connor - Nuts & Bolts

🔞✨ Marcus x Reader - Curiosity Killed The Cat

Diabolical Lovers

🔞 Reiji x Reader - Pets Are Meant To be Loyal

✨ Shuu x Reader - Come Cuddle

✨ Ayato x Reader - I Don't Like Sharing

🔞 Laito x Reader - Tastes Like Candy

Elnea Kingdom

Fnaf/Fnaf Security Breach

✨ Sundrop x Reader - Rose Colored Glasses

✨🔞 Moondrop x Reader - Kisses As Hot and Bright As The Stars

Genshin Impact

🔞 Kaeya x Reader - Midnight Lockdown

🔞 Zhongli x Reader -

🔞 Diluc x Reader - Drunken Promises

Gravity Falls (Mostly focused on Bill)

Harry Potter

🔞✨ Severus Snape x Reader - Can't Stop the Attraction

Hazbin Hotel

✨ Alastor x Reader - Just A Taste

🔞 Vox x Reader - Pay Your Dues

🔞 Lucifer x Reader x Alastor - Best Man Wins

🔞 Alastor x Reader x Vox - She Will Be Mine

Hellsing

🫂🔞 Alucard x Reader - The Blood You Shed

🫂✨ Integra x Reader - Come Lay With Me

🫂✨ Seras x Reader - I Feel Safe With You Around

🔞 Alucard x Alexander Anderson - Opportunities At Their Fullest

Helluva Boss

Hunter X Hunter

🔞 Illumi x Reader - Feeding the Wolf

🔞 Hisoka x Reader - A Taste of His Own Medicine

🔞 Hisoka x Reader x Illumi - Where Are You Going?~

🔞 Chrollo x Reader - A Loving Weapon of War

Jujutsu Kaisan

🔞 Gojo Satoru x Reader - A Heated Season To Remember

🔞 Geto Suguru x Reader - My Precious Pet

🔞 Gojo x Reader x Geto - She's Mine

🔞 Nanami x Reader - Boss's Orders

The Lorax

✨ Onceler x Reader - My Heart Sways For You

🔞 Greedler x Reader - You Owe Me

Mandela Catalog

🔞🫂 Gabriel x Reader - Good Enough to Eat

Mortal Kombat

🔞✨ Raiden x Reader - I Can't Get Enough of You

🔞 Kollector x Reader - I Want My Prize

🔞 Johnny Cage × Reader - Tell Me You're A Good Boy

✨ Baraka x Reader - Love Like No Other

Mystic Messenger

🔞 707 x Reader - Stalker's Obsession

🔞 Jumin Han x Reader - Pretty Little Kitty

🔞 Zen x Reader - Pretty Boy

My Hero Academia

🔞 Aizawa x Reader - Don't Make Me Put You In Your Place

Naruto Shippuden

✨ Itachi x Reader - Sun Kissed Smooches

🔞✨ Orochimaru x Reader - Worshipping His Greatness

✨ Sasuke x Reader - Shut Up Before I Make You

Obey Me

🔞 Lucifer x Reader - Pissing Him Off

🔞✨ Asmodeus x Reader - Sun Shine and Sun Lit Smiles

🔞 Leviathan x Reader - I Can't Wait Any Longer

🔞🫂 Simeon x Reader - I'll Sacrifice It All For You

Records of Ragnarok

🔞 Poseidon x Reader - Devotional Acts

Resident Evil

🔞 Leon Kennedy x Reader - Not The Best Time

🔞 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader (FEM) - A Loyal Pet Is A Good Pet

Rise of The Guardians

🔞 Pitch Black x Guardian Reader - I Could Be Convinced

SCP Foundation

🔞🫂 SCP 049 x Reader - Crave Your Touch

Stardew Valley

🫂 Elliot x Reader - Would Be Nothing Without You

Steven Universe

🔞🫂 Garnet x Amethyst - Make Me Shut Up

🔞🫂 Pearl x Amethyst - It's So Good It Hurts

Tokyo Revengers

🔞 Kokonoi x Reader - Pay Up Buttercup

🔞 Hanma Shuji x Reader - I Want You Near Me

🫂 Older Baji x Reader - Put Your Hands In Mine

Twilight Series

🫂✨ Sam Uley x Leah Clearwater (Commissioned! :3)

Undertale

🔞✨ Mettaton X Reader - Time Of Your Life

Vampire Hunter D

✨🔞 D x Vampire Reader - Come Here Often?

✨ D x Werewolf Reader - Pets & Cuddles

NOTE: Some characters I write for and others I don't, some of these series I need to catch up on, and OCS and such ARE allowed.

If you have any questions that you feel should be asked should be asked directly and be easy to understand. I am an open book, don't be afraid to ask me anything if you are looking for a commission.

Once you send in your money refunds will NOT be available.

More notes and info on commissions...

--> HERE (not clickable RN but it will be)

~

Like I said I'm working on saving money while I rehabilitate so I can order things I could use to make things better.

To anyone and everyone in advance who will be buying, I thank you!

I also want to start taking in ART COMMISSIONS which can be found...

--> HERE. (I will add a link soon :3)

~

✨✨✨

-A

[astral-athame]

What Kind Of "Hot" Are You?

drunk girl in the bathroom hot

you're both wasted, she just somehow does it so much better. you're crying, about something your stupid ex did or said. and suddenly she appears, looking like an angel aside from the slight sway in her step. she's helping you our of your slump on the floor when you grow pale and catastrophy strikes. you're the most disgusting you've ever been, and still, this stranger holds your hair and rubs soothing circles in your back. gives you a breath mint and sits you back against the wall, asking what happened. you tell her, and her glittery, perfectly made face turns sour. with her heels in hand, she loops your arm around her shoulders so she can help you walk to an uber she called for you. your ex says something snarky to you in passing on the way out, and for her it's the final straw. she whirls around, fire in her eyes and a set in her brow and she slaps him hard across the face. calls him a jerk or a dick or something like that, you can't remember, you were busy smiling at the stunned look on his face as she drags you both outside. before you get home, she gives you a hug and kind words in a bubbling voice and you're thankful for her. thankful there are people out there who look out for people like you, who stand up for people even when they might have trouble standing themselves.

Tagged by (stolen from): @southern-belle-outcasts Tagging: Anyone who wants to take it <3

[the-institute-rpg]

EVENT : halloween carnival

Prepare yourself for a spine-tingling adventure like no other at The Institute's Enchanted Halloween Carnival! Step into a world of Halloween magic, mystery, and merriment, a one-of-a-kind extravaganza that promises to dazzle and delight, conveniently located in South Malvolio. Join us from October 28th - 31st for a hauntingly good time you won't soon forget!

THE BEWITCHING CORN MAZE

Venture into the heart of our Halloween carnival and find yourself amidst the twisting paths of the Bewitching Corn Maze. With every turn, you'll encounter frights and phantasms, and things that look like simple decorations are enchanted to come to life as you pass. Watch out--some of these figures may offer directions, but do they truly wish to help you out of the maze, or do they hope to keep you inside its walls with them forever? The cornstalks themselves are enchanted, the maze ever-changing, meaning no trip through it will be the same. Unravel the maze's secrets and emerge victorious, or get lost in the enchanting world of the unknown.

HALLOWEEN THEMED GAMES & RIDES

Step right up to enjoy a plethora of Halloween-themed games and spine-tingling rides that will make your heart race with excitement! Test your skills with ring-toss games featuring ghoulish prizes, try your luck at our witchy wheel of fortune, or take a wild ride on the Spooky Scrambler. Don't forget to board the Haunted Carousel, where spectral horses prance, and our Fearris Wheel, which provides stunning views of our beautiful island.

MAGICALLY DELICIOUS CONCESSIONS

Our carnival's concessions aren't your typical fair fare. Prepare to be enchanted by our whimsical and spellbinding snacks and drinks! Enjoy Colorful Cotton Candy that changes the color of your hair with every sugary bite, transforming your look into a riot of rainbow hues and sip on soda that makes you levitate for a moment of thrilling weightlessness. Our Witch's Brew Slushies change flavor with every sip, from sweet to sour, and even spicy, while a bit of our Mystical Caramel Apples will give you a brief glimpse into tomorrow. Don't miss the Haunted Hot Chocolate, either--it may taste sweet, but the ghostly pictures that dance in its steam will play out spooky stories just for you.

COSTUME CONTEST & PUMPKIN CARVING

Dress up in your most creative and spooktacular costumes and sign up for The Institute's annual Halloween Costume Contest--the old administration may be gone, but there are some traditions worth keeping! For those who prefer more hands-on fun, join our pumpkin carving contests and carve a Jack-O'-Lantern masterpiece under the bewitching moonlight.

ENCHANTED ENTERTAINMENT

As the sun sets and the stars twinkle, the Enchanted Halloween Carnival comes alive with enchanting performances. Witness mesmerizing magic shows, spooky storytellers, and mesmerizing fire dancers who will leave you spellbound with their feats of daring.

OOC INFO:

In game, the Halloween Carnival will be open from October 28th through Halloween itself, October 31st.

Out of game, the event will last from Friday, October 27th 11:59pm, through Saturday, November 4th, 11:59pm, EST.

There is no surprise twist linked to this event.

The dash WILL NOT be paused for the duration of the event. Non-event threads may be posted.

The starter rule is still in effect. Do not forget to reblog your starter to the starter blog to ensure it appears for everyone, and please keep in mind the updated starter rules. Please also tag your starter in some way to indicate that it is an event starter. (For example, ‘halloween carnival', ‘event starter’, etc.)

[daikon1]

My 2022 Fanfic Year in Review!

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but 2022 has been a rough one for me. Between challenges in my offline life and modding for the Drops of Moonlight Zine eating up most of my fandom time and energy, I didn’t write as much as I might have liked in other years.

Anyway, here’s my Ao3 Wrapped!!

Fair warning, spoilers for anything I posted this year abound below the cut!!

1. List of fics completed this year:

Well, I changed some of how I post this year (for example, I stopped posting to FFN entirely and decided to use ‘collections’ on Ao3 instead of chapters going forward for related but standalone shorts/one shots).

That said, I completed 5 fics:

A (Blind) Date with Destiny!

Moving In

then you showed up and I can’t get enough

We Do This Every Time

I Know All About Your Reputation (This is Bound to be a Heartbreak Situation)

I also began a new ongoing multichapter, Close to Home.

2. Number of words written:

61,054 that have been posted - fewer than previous years, but more than I’d thought!

3. Your most popular fic this year:

Of what I posted this year, (Blind) Date got the most hits, but overall The Runner-Up remained quite popular and got a lot of engagement.

4. Your personal favourite this year:

This is always a cruel question, given that everything I write feels like my baby/a part of me. The two I was most actively excited/couldn’t stop while writing were Blind Date and then you showed up… so… coin flip between the two?

5. Your favourite scene:

I *loved* writing the date in Blind Date with Destiny. Their dancing around each other and flirting and playing that ‘but do you remember me and if you don’t do I have to tell you’ game was SO MUCH FUN and basically flowed directly out of my brain and onto the page.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

Day six of my UsaMamo week fic (We Do This Every Time) gave me a lot of trouble. Turns out it’s hard to consolidate an entire arc from an anime into a single chapter, who knew 🤣

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

I feel like this is always the hardest question to answer and the one I put off until the very end, in part because when you write 60k+ words in a year (which comes out to like 2.5k sentences the way I write them), it’s hard to single out one!!

This year, I’m going to highlight this line from Close to Home:

Mamoru took an obnoxiously slow sip from his water glass. “Do you bring a lot of dates home?” he asked in an offhand way that made her want to dump her curry on top of his perfectly coiffed hair.

8. A comment that touched you:

I always feel like I get too many sweet reviews to single out just one; in fact, I now have a designated folder in my email titled “Review Joy” where I file away some of the ones I want to revisit when I’m feeling low. So here is a much-too-short and entirely non-exhaustive roundup of a few snippets from some of my favorite reviews this year:

Just crossed your story today and *had* to go on Ao3 to read the second part!

I can’t picture things clearly or for long in my mind, but this scene was crystal clear, at least Usagi bowing to the little rabbit and talking in a friendly, but quiet and gentle, almost reverential way because Usako was part of Mamoru, vulnerable, almost like part of his soul.

I love all the check-ins for consent - they were so natural!! So good!! Thank you for writing!!

The scene of him putting things together was also suitably spooky and conspiratorial, like the ending of the Usual Suspects kinda.

Ngl I was SHRIEKING AT MY PHONE when I saw she'd written something SO SWEET into the book?! AND THEN DASHED LIKE THE LITTLE ADORABLE IDIOT SHE IS?

I’m always filled with excitement when I see a new story from you and it never disappoints. This is an absolutely wonderful beginning filled with emotions and sweetness and I cannot wait to see where you lead us.

Seeing bisexual rep in usagi meant the world to me as a young, questioning teen, and seeing you showcase that here and have her friends be so knowing & accepting of that really just made my heart feel so whole <3

Impeccable plotline, character depictions, and the fluff was *chef’s kiss*!!! 20/10!!!

I wish I could showcase all of every review I’ve received this year, but sadly I would run out of space way too fast. Just know that if you’ve taken the time to review for me, I am grateful from the bottom of my heart 🙏🏻

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

Okay so I’ve already disclaimed it in the author’s note, but My Ex’s Best Friend by Machine Gun Kelly is the entire reason that then you showed up… exists.

Like honestly the line “I swear to god I never fall in love” just STUCK IN MY BRAIN as a very Mamoru-ish sentiment and I had to explore it. With instalove semi-blind-date hijinks.

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

Probably have to go with finishing day 6 (Reunion) of UsaMamo week this year (We Do This Every Time). I basically knew what I wanted to do with it as soon as the prompts dropped, but actually whipping it into shape and getting it to be near the level I envisioned it took me longer than I hoped it would!! Was very proud to get that monster off my TBW list 🤣

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I would like to refill my tank, tbh. As I mentioned above, it’s been a rough year and in many ways I’m running on fumes - and I do think that’s been reflected in my writing (or lack thereof) in this back half of the year.

So in an ideal world, I’d like to have the time and bandwidth to feel excited about writing again. And maybe also make some progress on Close to Home.

————

As always, I would love to see some other people do these! I’m not going to tag anyone, but if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tapped in.

Cheers to the end of 2022!! May 2023 be a gentle and healthy year for you and yours 😘

[koorinohebi]

Revamped Tags

So I remade my long-ass list of tags. They are under the cut because long. Anyway, I'm also going to remake my current shipping tags because I think they need to be revamped as well. So if you want a ship tag with Kiomi or any of the muses of this blog, feel free to like this post. Only requirement is that our muses have interacted.

=== Mun Tags ===

Beyond the Bounded Field || OOC Craft Essence || Commissioned Piece Limelight || Commission Drawing Board || My Art

=== General Purpose Tags ===

⩤ Throne of Heroes ⩥ Gallery ⩤ Unprompted ⩥ ⩤ Starter ⩥ ⩤ The Meme ⩥ ⩤ HQ Report : Dash Comm ⩥ ⩤ Simulation Room : Dash Games ⩥ ⩤ The Grind : Memes and Games ⩥ ⩤ Order Restored : Answered ⩥ ⩤ Dailies : Anon ⩥ ⩤ Attention : PSA ⩥ ⩤ Mystic eyes of .Crack. Perception ⩥ ⩤ tw : ⩥ ⩤ Inbox Call ⩥ ⩤ Preparing to Rayshift : Queue ⩥ ⩤ Take my Hand : Wishlist ⩥ ⩤ Drums of War : Music ⩥ ⩤ War Council : P . R . O . M . O. ⩥ ⩤ Loyalties : P.r.o.m.o ⩥ ⩤ Stashed ⩥ ⩥ Cont'd from x

=== Muse Tags ===

⩤ Blog Shenanigans ⩥ ⩤ Muse Commentaries ⩥ ⩤ Visage ⩥ ⩤ Saint Graph : Headcanons ⩥ ⩤ Battle Records : Aesthetics ⩥ ⩤ To each their own reveries : Musings ⩥ ⩤ Chaldea Lunchtime : Conversations ⩥ ⩤ Interlude : Drabbles ⩥

⩤ To each their own devices : Kiomi ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Kamo Serizawa ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Mitsuhide Akechi ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Takechi Zuizan ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Tanaka Shinbei ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Chen Gong ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Okuni ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Lanlan Fang ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Major Magatsu ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Major Reiter ⩥ ⩤ Echoes : Guest Muse ⩥

=== Verse Tags ===

⩤ Singularities : Main ⩥ ⩤ Remnants : AU ⩥ ⩤ Event Horizon : Crossovers ⩥

=== Friend Tags (Ever growing) ===

Arai-chan ⩤ Sarutobi Arai : Sister-in-Arms ⩥

Assortedsnacks ⩤ Touken Danshi : Kikkou Sadamune ⩥

Aurivore ⩤ Gilgamesh : Majesty Defined ⩥ ⩤ Kogil : Decadent Exuberance ⩥

Caemthe ⩤ Demon King of the Sixth Heaven : Oda Nobunaga ⩥

Gemsofchaldea ⩤ Jack : A Child Beloved ⩥ ⩤ Da Vinci-Chan : The Universal Beauty ⩥

Getsuruito ⩤ Momochi Tanba : The Great Ninja Master ⩥ ⩤ Pang Tong : The Fledgling Phoenix ⩥

Historias-Multorum ⩤ Hinata Hyuuga : Delicate Breeze ⩥ ⩤ Tsunade : Densetsu no Hime ⩥ ⩤ Izuna ⩥ ⩤ Shizune ⩥

Homeport ⩤ Sakamoto Ryouma : The Miracle Worker ⩥ ⩤ The Evil Mastermind : Takasugi Shinsaku ⩥ ⩤ Hizen Tadahiro : The Sharpest Edge ⩥

Kiicho ⩤ Kicho : Enchanting Pearl of Mino ⩥ ⩤ Nohime : Ties Severed ⩥ (Mitsuhide)

Lovedloyalty ⩤ A Saber Among Shadows : Okada Izo ⩥ ⩤ Alter Ego : Okada Izo ⩥ ⩤ Mori Nagayoshi : Blood Soaked Loyalty ⩥ ⩤ Beowulf : The Grendel Buster ⩥ ⩤ Leonidas : The King of Sparta ⩥ ⩤ Phantom : Angel of Music ⩥ ⩤ Shuichi : Spiral Bound ⩥ ⩤ Mephistopheles : Deals with the Devil ⩥

⩤ Hitokiri Izo : Hound of the Kinnoto ⩥ (Tosa) ⩤ Okada Izo : The Ghost of Tosa ⩥ (Redline) ⩤ Mori Nagayoshi : Demon of the Battlefield ⩥ (Blog Servants, Redline) ⩤ Old Man Li : Old and Strong ⩥ (Blog Servants, Redline)

Moonlightmagus ⩤ Yuuki : Friends Forever ⩥ ⩤ Na'amah : A Demon Dancing through Emotions ⩥

Mysticallities ⩤ Tristan : A vicious fairy knight ⩥ ⩤ Strange Amalgamation : Rintsuka ⩥ ⩤ Liber : The Ancient Arbitrator ⩥

Nobuverse ⩤ Chacha : A Radiance of Warmth ⩥ ⩤ Nobunaga Oda : The Avenging Fool of Owari ⩥ ⩤ Summer Nobunaga : Blazing Rockstar! ⩥ ⩤ Nagao Kagetora : The Dragon of Echigo ⩥ ⩤ Lancer Class : Mei Fan ⩥

⩤ Nobunaga Oda : Enemy at Honnouji ⩥ (Mitsuhide)

Nulltune ⩤ Hakuno : Shards of Moonlight ⩥

Madamhatter ⩤ Sophie : A Dutiful Heart ⩥

Soulsbetrayed ⩤ Avenger Class : Izou the Manslayer ⩥ ⩤ Touken Danshi : Tensho Koshirae ⩥ ⩤ Hosokawa Gracia : Beloved ⩥

Spookums ⩤ Witching Hour : Gabriella ⩥

Summoned-Anima ⩤ Ashiya Douman : The Humble Priest? ⩥

Super-Kame-Love ⩤ Aina Kichida : The Turtle Sage ⩥

Tenkoseiensei ⩤ Assassin Class : Yan Qing the Wingman ⩥

[kawaiijohn]

Rule: shuffle your repeat playlist 10 times and post the songs that come up!

tagged by @cleanlenins

making a new post so i don't stretch the dash too much

D-technoLife - Uverworld It's the second Bleach opening, and it lives in my brain rent free and has since middle school lmao. It also fucks.

20 Percent Cooler - Ken Ashcorp God I have so many cringe songs on my playlist, but this one slaps. Even if it's an MLP fansong.

Be my Game Boy - Yurino ft. S3rl I like bouncy music like this a lot. My brain permanently lives in 2010.

More of Just the Same - Infected Mushroom Okay this group fucking SLAPS. I listen to them a lot when I need to concentrate and I recommend them if you like EDM/Trance music. I would give my left asscheek to see them live, but they almost never tour in the US

Seagulls! Stop it Now! - Bad Lip Reading Songs that make you go HMM HA HMM HM HM HM HAA

Hellbent - Mystery Skulls This song is the one song by MSkulls that makes me go fucking FERAL. I cannot listen to this song in my car bc I will speed. You can't imagine how much I frothed at the mouth when they announced this was getting an animation.

Dance Macabre - Ghost BC JUST WANNA BE, WANNA BEWITCH YOU IN THE MOONLIGHT. This song has been living in my brain rent free since last year.

Run to the Hills - Iron Maiden This song was one I listened to a lot as a kid bc it was in a sports game I had, and then I heard it again this year and realized how fucking raw the lyrics are. It's good.

Griftwood - Ghost BC Do you wanna play with the sire? Do you want a view from the spire? Do you want a seat by the Pyre? And to never, ever suffer again? Yes. But... are you righteous? (lmao this song is about Mike Pence and roasts him and the fact he calls his wife 'mother')

FVN! - LVL1 Linking the actual music video here too, because it's just so... 2000s fun? It's like the pinnacle of girls media from the early to mid 00s and every outfit is funky. Also: CAT KITTY CAT CAT KITTY CAT CAT

And now to tag: @sheepheadfred @voidgremlinguege @bibliophilea and @glorious-typo

[sqinsights]

The Cozy Revolution: North America's Residential Heat Pump Market

Welcome, curious minds, to the sizzling world of North America’s Residential Heat Pump Market! Brace yourselves for a rollercoaster ride through the USD 6.70 billion wonderland of heating and cooling solutions. So, grab your thermal mug and let’s dive into the warm embrace of market dynamics.

The Warm Prelude: 

Picture this — a market that was valued at USD 6.70 billion in 2021, ready to snuggle up to USD 14.55 billion by 2030, growing at a toasty CAGR of 9%. Why the sudden surge, you ask? Well, folks are catching onto the trend of versatility, and heat pumps are the cool kids in town, offering both heating and cooling solutions. It’s like having a HVAC system that moonlights as a superhero.

The Driving Forces: 

What’s propelling this market shift? Brace yourselves — it’s the awareness of energy efficiency, concerns about the environment, and the government playing matchmaker for green technologies. Who wouldn’t want to save the planet while keeping their toes warm? Also, the push to reduce carbon emissions is like the cherry on top of this energy-efficient sundae.

Segmental Shenanigans: 

Hold on to your beanies! The market is segmented into product types, technology, application, and region. We’ve got air source heat pumps, ground source heat pumps (geothermal), water source heat pumps, and other innovations doing the cha-cha in the product category. Meanwhile, technology struts its stuff with inverter-driven heat pumps and non-inverter heat pumps, adding a touch of sophistication to the dance floor. Applications, from space heating to space cooling, are like the supporting actors, playing their roles to perfection.

Market Predictions: 

In the spotlight, we have the star performers — Air Source Heat Pumps taking the lead with Ground Source Heat Pumps (Geothermal) following closely. The growth rate is a solid 9% CAGR, and by 2030, we’re expecting a USD 14.55 billion spectacle. Who said heating and cooling couldn’t be thrilling?

For More Information: https://www.skyquestt.com/report/north-america-residential-heat-pump-market

Regional Drama: 

The United States, with its diverse climate conditions, has historically taken the lead in this market melodrama. But don’t sleep on Canada — it’s the dark horse, dependent on economic growth, government incentives, and the ever-shifting whims of consumer preferences. Urbanization, sustainability, and population growth are the scriptwriters, penning the plot twists.

Market Dynamics: 

Now, let’s talk about what’s driving this theatrical performance. The main act is led by increasing consumer awareness of energy efficiency, stealing the spotlight from high installation costs. It’s a classic tale of demand versus pocket pinch. But fear not, for government initiatives and incentives are the fairy godmothers, waving their wands to make these sustainable technologies more accessible.

Competitive Banter: 

In this market circus, it’s a dynamic blend of established players and newcomers trying to steal the show. The game plan includes product innovation, with a dash of energy efficiency and environmental friendliness. Plus, collaborations and partnerships are the secret sauce, adding a pinch of spice to the industry recipe.

Top Players: 

Now, let’s take a moment to applaud the lead actors: Daikin Industries, Carrier Corporation, Trane Technologies, and other household names. Recent developments include strategic acquisitions, like Johnson Controls acquiring Hybrid Energy and Carrier Global Corporation snagging Viessmann Climate Solutions. It’s like watching a thrilling soap opera unfold.

Key Market Trends: 

Hold your breath — smart technologies are taking center stage! Smart thermostats and connected HVAC systems are the new heartthrobs, offering precise control and energy efficiency. And let’s not forget the rising trend of eco-friendly refrigerants — the unsung heroes reducing carbon footprints.

Conclusion: 

As the curtains fall on this blog performance, we’ve journeyed through the highs and lows of North America’s Residential Heat Pump Market. From the bustling streets of the United States to the quiet corners of Canada, the market dance continues. So, next time you adjust your thermostat, remember — you’re not just changing the temperature; you’re part of a billion-dollar blockbuster in the making! Stay warm, stay cool, and keep riding the heat pump wave!

About Us-

SkyQuest Technology Group is a Global Market Intelligence, Innovation Management & Commercialization organization that connects innovation to new markets, networks & collaborators for achieving Sustainable Development Goals.

Contact Us-

SkyQuest Technology Consulting Pvt. Ltd.

1 Apache Way,

Westford,

Massachusetts 01886

USA (+1) 617–230–0741

Email- info@skyquestt.com

Website: https://www.skyquestt.com

[market-spy]

The Cozy Revolution: North America's Residential Heat Pump Market Unpacked

Welcome, curious minds, to the sizzling world of North America’s Residential Heat Pump Market! Brace yourselves for a rollercoaster ride through the USD 6.70 billion wonderland of heating and cooling solutions. So, grab your thermal mug and let’s dive into the warm embrace of market dynamics.

The Warm Prelude:

Picture this — a market that was valued at USD 6.70 billion in 2021, ready to snuggle up to USD 14.55 billion by 2030, growing at a toasty CAGR of 9%. Why the sudden surge, you ask? Well, folks are catching onto the trend of versatility, and heat pumps are the cool kids in town, offering both heating and cooling solutions. It’s like having a HVAC system that moonlights as a superhero.

The Driving Forces:

What’s propelling this market shift? Brace yourselves — it’s the awareness of energy efficiency, concerns about the environment, and the government playing matchmaker for green technologies. Who wouldn’t want to save the planet while keeping their toes warm? Also, the push to reduce carbon emissions is like the cherry on top of this energy-efficient sundae.

Segmental Shenanigans:

Hold on to your beanies! The market is segmented into product types, technology, application, and region. We’ve got air source heat pumps, ground source heat pumps (geothermal), water source heat pumps, and other innovations doing the cha-cha in the product category. Meanwhile, technology struts its stuff with inverter-driven heat pumps and non-inverter heat pumps, adding a touch of sophistication to the dance floor. Applications, from space heating to space cooling, are like the supporting actors, playing their roles to perfection.

For More Information: https://www.skyquestt.com/report/north-america-residential-heat-pump-market

Market Predictions:

In the spotlight, we have the star performers — Air Source Heat Pumps taking the lead with Ground Source Heat Pumps (Geothermal) following closely. The growth rate is a solid 9% CAGR, and by 2030, we’re expecting a USD 14.55 billion spectacle. Who said heating and cooling couldn’t be thrilling?

Regional Drama: The United States, with its diverse climate conditions, has historically taken the lead in this market melodrama. But don’t sleep on Canada — it’s the dark horse, dependent on economic growth, government incentives, and the ever-shifting whims of consumer preferences. Urbanization, sustainability, and population growth are the scriptwriters, penning the plot twists.

Market Dynamics:

Now, let’s talk about what’s driving this theatrical performance. The main act is led by increasing consumer awareness of energy efficiency, stealing the spotlight from high installation costs. It’s a classic tale of demand versus pocket pinch. But fear not, for government initiatives and incentives are the fairy godmothers, waving their wands to make these sustainable technologies more accessible.

Competitive Banter:

In this market circus, it’s a dynamic blend of established players and newcomers trying to steal the show. The game plan includes product innovation, with a dash of energy efficiency and environmental friendliness. Plus, collaborations and partnerships are the secret sauce, adding a pinch of spice to the industry recipe.

Top Players:

Now, let’s take a moment to applaud the lead actors: Daikin Industries, Carrier Corporation, Trane Technologies, and other household names. Recent developments include strategic acquisitions, like Johnson Controls acquiring Hybrid Energy and Carrier Global Corporation snagging Viessmann Climate Solutions. It’s like watching a thrilling soap opera unfold.

Key Market Trends:

Hold your breath — smart technologies are taking center stage! Smart thermostats and connected HVAC systems are the new heartthrobs, offering precise control and energy efficiency. And let’s not forget the rising trend of eco-friendly refrigerants — the unsung heroes reducing carbon footprints.

Conclusion:

As the curtains fall on this blog performance, we’ve journeyed through the highs and lows of North America’s Residential Heat Pump Market. From the bustling streets of the United States to the quiet corners of Canada, the market dance continues. So, next time you adjust your thermostat, remember — you’re not just changing the temperature; you’re part of a billion-dollar blockbuster in the making! Stay warm, stay cool, and keep riding the heat pump wave!

About Us-

SkyQuest Technology Group is a Global Market Intelligence, Innovation Management & Commercialization organization that connects innovation to new markets, networks & collaborators for achieving Sustainable Development Goals.

Contact Us-

SkyQuest Technology Consulting Pvt. Ltd.

1 Apache Way,

Westford,

Massachusetts 01886

USA (+1) 617–230–0741

Email- info@skyquestt.com

Website: https://www.skyquestt.com