#But I still make an *effort* to be on time and honor the plans I've made

[dailymanners]

Be respectful of other people's time. If you make plans with someone else, avoid being late (at least beyond fashionably late) or flaking on them last minute, and especially avoid being a no-show. This is especially applicable for time sensitive things, such as going out to a movie or live performance.

This also applies to appointments with professionals, such as hair appointments, nail appointments, ect. Because the person you've made an appointment with is likely a working class person just trying to earn a living and make it through the day, but when their clients are late this can affect their ability to keep their work schedule and keep all their clients happy, as well as keep them at work late and affect their personal life (such as being late to pick up their child from day care because they had multiple clients who were late to their appointments that day)

Flaking last minute on appointments also affects their livelihood, as it can be hard to fill an appointment time slot last minute so this can affect their earnings for the day. Respect working professionals by respecting the appointment times you've made with them to the best of your ability.

Of course, life happens. We all forgot things, and we all have unforeseen circumstances pop up which force us to be late or cancel plans. But it is important to at least make an effort to be on time, and to honor the plans you've made, so as to be respectful of other people's time and energy.

If you must, set phone alarms and/or leave notes for yourself.

Part of this is being honest with your friends about making plans you don't actually want to do. It's better to be honest with your friend that you don't want to see that movie with them on that night, rather than lying and faking interest only to flake last minute. With the former they could have planned more accordingly and found someone else to go with or even been prepared to go alone if they wished, with the latter you are wasting their time and energy.

Again, life happens, sometimes the bus or train is late, sometimes the traffic is worse than we anticipated, sometimes health problems crop up. But at least make an effort to be on time and honor the plans you've made, as this is more respectful to other people's time and energy. When we make no effort to be on time or honor the plans we've made this can come across as disrespectful to other people's time and energy. Your time and energy is not the only time and energy that matters.

[cherryredstars]

Pls pls pls miss Cherry I need other parts of Ribbons. I need a pt.3 cause I love that au. Something very fluffy super cute and introspective you know? I NEED IT thank you so much 🍒🎀

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Suggestive, Hinted Intercourse, Talk of Past Intercourse, Fluff

Summary: They're well past the first date thing... right?

A/N: I missed them.

Unedited

Part 1 Part 2

You are not hearing him right.

You push yourself up, hand pressing into his naked chest as his arm and sheets fall off your bare body. His eyes momentarily drop to the soft skin that is revealed to him once again, pupils dilating. His eyes do a lousy job of running up your figure, getting stuck in different areas a bit longer than necessary. His eyes stare up at yours when you start talking.

"You know we've like... had sex before, right?"

Miguel doesn't need the reminder, his eyes falling back to your bare body, your taste and scent still fogging his brain. He won't ever forget that he's had such an honor. Multiple times.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

You give him an exasperated look, laying back down. Your hair fans over his shoulder, tickling the base of his neck. His arms wrap around you quickly, suffocating you in his body heat. His eyes shut as he breathes you in, a perfect combination of his cologne and your perfume. You turn to face him, wrapping your arms lazily around his shoulders and he peppers kisses along your naked shoulders.

"I think we're well past the whole going on a first date thing."

Miguel's brows furrow, and he stops his trails of small worship to look at your face. You try to soothe the wrinkles with your fingers, but he stubbornly holds firm.

"Who said?"

You roll your eyes playfully, a wave of deja vu hitting you. You smile gently at him, gently brushing his hair out of his face. It effectively smooths out his features, dissipating the bunched skin at his brow.

"Says my pair of panties you tried to hide before I walked into your room."

Miguel blushes, forcing his head back into the crook of your neck. He tries to distract you with small kisses and nips to your skin, but you only giggle.

"First off, I have no idea what you're talking about." He muffles against your skin, the burning of his skin revealing his lie. "And second, that doesn't mean I can't take my girl out somewhere nice."

You ignore the stampede of butterflies in your stomach, biting your lip to contain your smile. You slightly tug at his hair, pulling his face away from your neck. You peer down at him, placing a small kiss to the apple of his burning cheek.

"Do you even know how to plan a date?"

Miguel scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

"Of course I do, I've had this planned for months."

You raise your brow, smiling wide.

"Months? We've only been a thing for like 3 weeks."

Miguel's cheeks burn once again, embarrassed about his slip-up. He rolls onto his back, throwing his arm over his face to hide how flustered you're making him.

"It's an exaggeration!"

You laugh, moving to lay on your stomach as you rest your chin on his chest. Miguel moves his arm just slightly to peer down at you, breath stalling at the pretty smile you're giving him.

"Yeah, sure it was." You tease, giving his chest a small kiss in an effort to calm him down. "But, I guess we can go on a little date."

Miguel gives you his signature lopsided smirk, tilting his head to give you a slow kiss. You reciprocate easily, humming against his lips before he flips you over. You giggle in between the kiss, smiling.

"Then you have yourself a date."

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, reapplying your lip gloss.

You pucker your lips, leaning back and examining the final look. You hum in consideration, feeling that something is off. You lean further back, eyes squinting before they drop to your bare neck. You go to your dresser, quickly clasping the necklace you were gifted by a certain boy around your neck. You return to your mirror, nodding in approval right before your phone lights up.

You smile as you pick it up, holding it between your ear and shoulder as you grab your purse, back tracking to put in your lip gloss and spray yourself with your signature perfume.

"Bring a vase."

You pause, being met without a proper greeting.

"Hi! I am doing fantastic today. Thank you for asking!"

You can hear Miguel's chuckle, dark and slightly distorted over the speaker. You smile at the sound, setting your perfume down and looking around your room for a vase.

"Hi, pretty. How was your day?"

You smile wider, tone turning soft with affection.

"It was good, are you here? Why do I need a vase?"

"Just pulling up outside." Miguel speaks, the subtle sound of his gearshift moving following his words. "It's a surprise."

"Well," You huff, looking at the decorative vases you don't want to sacrifice for his mystery. "I don't have one."

You can hear his eye roll through the phone as he huffs.

"Yes you do. I promise it's not going to end up broken or something."

You groan, begrudgingly taking a ceramic vase and pressing it to your body, "That's it?"

Miguel hums on the other side of the phone, reassuring you none of your other precious decorations are necessary for what he has in mind. You quickly hang up, making your way outside of your building to find his car waiting for you out front. Miguel smiles as he sees you, taking the vase from your hands and tilting your chin up for a quick kiss before opening the door for you. You smile gratefully, sitting and buckling in before gently taking your vase back from him. He makes his way to his own door, getting in and beginning the drive to your date.

"So," you start, turning to look at him. "Where you taking me?"

Miguel smiles slightly, looking at you slightly before turning back to the road. "I told you it's a surprise."

You huff, lips pouting. Miguel chuckles at you, turning to look at you at a red light and kissing your pout away.

"Cheer up, you'll find out soon."

When that doesn't work, he gives you another kiss, pulling away and giving you that jaw-dropping smile before turning back to the road.

"Look stunning tonight, princesa."

Your pout, instantly drops, being replaced with a bashful smile as your eyes drop to the dress you picked out. Your hands gently smooth it out, a small thank you being mumbled from your lips. Miguel simply smiles to himself, grabbing your hand and holding it in your lap for the rest of the drive.

When he finally stops the car, you look out to see a small store. From the display windows, you can see mannequins dressed in the frilly dresses you love, soft stuffed animals adding to the cuteness. You don't realize Miguel has gotten out of the car until he opens your door, taking the vase from you as he unbuckles your seatbelt.

"You don't need this."

You furrow your brows, taking the hand he offers as he guides you out of the car.

"But you said-"

"I lied." He cuts off, smiling as he places it safely in his backseat.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief at him, holding his hand as the two of you walk toward the entrance. He pulls the door open for you, and you step inside. You instantly forget the slight annoyance you had, eyes widening as you look around. The store is a bit larger than what the front of the store suggested, the shelves stocked with things plucked straight out of Pinterest. There is a wide range of clothes and decor, your eyes spotting a section dedicated to aesthetic toys.

Miguel comes up behind you, hands squeezing your waist as he bends down to your ear. His warm breath fans over your skin, and you turn your head to face him.

"Not really your style, huh?"

You smile, pushing his face away once you spot his shit-eating grin. He's obviously pleased with himself, and you instantly pull him back towards you as you walk deeper into the store of your dreams.

"Where did you even find this place?"

Miguel shrugs behind you, revealing nothing as he watches you. He can't wipe the small smile off of his face as you scan the shelves, your pupils wide as you take in everything. You gush over anything you see, excitedly turning to show Miguel the precious gems you find. He spends the whole day like this, following and encouraging you to add what you like to the cart.

Though, he does steer you away from the Sonny Angels. He doesn't want you to buy repeats of what he already has waiting for you in the backseat of his car. He only hopes the flowers he bought haven't begun to wilt while you shop.

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[amethystfairy1]

Desert Duo fic update on my birthday I am so blessed 🙌

Also wanted to say good luck with all your school things that's so exciting, take all the time you need to write and update!!

Also also original story will be so cool whenever that's at a point of sharing! I've thought multiple times that both TT and TTBSC would easily be books I would purchase and adore if they were original fiction (and honestly it wouldn't be too hard to do by just slightly changing some names and MC references)

Happy birthday! 🥳🎉🎂

Thank you so much for the luck, I'm gonna need it 😅 I've got a plan so it shouldn't be to terribly complicated, just a whooooole lot of work! It'll all get done though!

Aw, thank you so much! Yeah, I'm sure I could do that with TTSBC and TT, but I dunno, I feel like both of these stories were kinda crafted with the MCYT aspect in mind, so I am very proud to just leave them as fanfic! 💖

I will say for anyone who might be interested, my eventually plan is to hopefully write my original concept in a style similar to TTSBC or TT...that is, the short stories along a timeline forming a larger narrative, with multiple storylines. It's just how I love writing the most! So yeah! One day I'd love to make a sideblog here on tumblr and post it, or perhaps find some way to post it somewhere to share with you all just the same way I share TTSBC and TT...for anyone who would be interested in following it just off my writing, it would really mean a lot to me.

I say all of this despite having promised myself I wouldn't post anything for my original concept until I finish my degree...which isn't for almost a year...but I guess just look forward to it then? 😆 That or I crack and start posting stuff for it sooner, but I'm gonna do my best not too! I really wanna give a lot of effort to it while also still writing my fics, after all, and I don't think I can swing two massive fanfic WIP AUs, an original concept, and writing for my masters degree all at once no matter how deranged I get when I'm tippy tapping 😭

But I'm so happy and honored that you think my stories are worthy of a book you might buy! Hopefully one day my original works might be on your list, too! Thank you!

[lakesbian]

was doing a bit of Thinkin about bakuda due to my worm reread liveblog. she is very much a stereotypical fiery asian woman with blue eyes--shitty mundanely racist caricature alongside savage-yet-honorable lung--but it feels like there's just enough meat there that it's easy to imagine what bakuda could be if worm was really really good instead of just really good. which is why i was sitting in the shower for 10 minutes rotating her in my mind.

this little background detail:

Armsmaster nodded, “Not surprising. She’s new. What we know about her is limited. She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn out terrorism campaign against Cornell University. Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate. This is… something of a concern.”

combined with what her powers imply about her could have some genuinely interesting implications. i'm getting into "imagine if this part of worm was better" mode here & not "analyzing what's actually explicitly in the text" mode because what's in the text is very shallow but you can dig something out of that.

she has a tinker power, and tinker powers are powers that result from traumatic rock-bottom events the person with the power saw coming from a mile away--the type of thing you desperately try to build yourself an out for, but find yourself inevitably, horrendously railroaded into anyway, to the point where it would take a miracle to escape from. and that's what the resultant power is--the type of miracle you were hoping for, coming far too late to solve your problem, and fantastically extreme in its ability to solve the sort of problem you were dealing with without actually solving any of your underlying behaviors which led you to that problem in the first place.

and what, precisely, is her tinker power? Exploding Shit Real Good. she very much comes off as the literal version of finding yourself in the midst of a shitty institution, one stacked against you, one expecting you to break yourself to succeed in it, and thinking "damn i kinda wish this entire building would explode rn." it's very easy to imagine her being the type of person some would call passionate and some would say needs to calm the fuck down, very intelligent but swamped by university's increasingly difficult barriers to success and fiscal safety, perhaps expected by society as a whole to serve as the model asian woman in a deeply racist environment--smart, hardworking, successful, and still subservient. you know, all the type of shit that would have someone going Damn I Wish This Building Would Explode And We All Die in their head every time they attend college. i've seen it put forward before that she triggered after just. abruptly failing/being locked out of something academic despite all her effort, and that's what i can envision for her: struggling to keep her head above water, knowing that she's failing to meet expectations, knowing that she's eventually not going to be able to scrape by, socially or academically. her head goes under, so to speak, everything she's been working towards is fucked despite all the effort she put in, and--having always been the type of person to explode when something that unfair or awful feeling happens--she triggers, and literally explodes. proving to the university that she's talented, she's good at something, she's got something to be proud about no matter what anyone says--and if the system won't let her have anything after all the time she spent breaking herself to fit into it, then fuck the system, she hopes it explodes.

so. thats my 2 cents on bakuda but if she was more interesting. hopefully that makes sense 👍

[iguana-eyanna]

To Miss Laurant... Pt. 2

Pairing: Lord Alfred Debling x Reader

Summary: What happens when two souls who had not found love find it within each other?

a/n: mentions of past relationships and health issues

The Lord, Alfred Debling, has been the topic of the season since his arrival. Surprisingly, he has been found in the town's square, wandering upon his thoughts. Fair ladies often try to catch his gaze with a flutter of the fan or a flirtatious smile. Their efforts, undoubtedly, had gone unnoticed as he tries to catch someone else's gaze.

Yours.

It has been three days since he has seen you. His brief interaction with you has blazed a fire to his thawing heart. He thought he didn't had enough room in his life to love another, but maybe you were the person that can show him that he's wrong.

Now, he was walking aimlessly on a path nearby the cafe he'd always heard of. As he looked in the display, he was overcome with his emotions as he saw you. You were talking with Lady Danbury as you smiled brightly at something she had said as you both joined in laughter. You turned your head mindlessly and accidentally made eye contact with Lord Debling.

Suddenly, the solemn lord felt his heart fasten. His breath got caught in his throat. He quickens his step and leaned by the wall, inhaling through his nose as he closed his eyes. Why, after all this time of yearning your presence, did he feel like he was drowning in quicksand?

"Lord Debling?"

He opens his eyes to see you, concerned for his well being. He looked around and saw that some passerby's staring at him as well.

He gulps with a parched throat, trying to muster a sentence.

"I'm- Pardon me I was-"

You were about to hold his hand, but caught yourself from such action, knowing that all eyes are on the two of you.

"Lady Danbury is extending her invitation to join us for tea."

Your voice was ever so gentle, like a soft breeze through the countryside. He nods gently and you guide him inside. Lady Danbury arises from her chair and gives the same courtesy to the Lord.

"Lord Debling, always a pleasure for your accompiment."

Alfred smiles as he bows his head. "Thank you for your inivation. My apologies if I caught some unwanted attention."

"Nonsense. I believe you are still weary from your latest expeditions." Lady Danbury says.

"You travel?" You ask as you all settled by the table.

"I rescue wildlife, it's been a fulfilling mission I've dedicated my life for. I prefer not to eat meat."

"That's very noble of you, Lord Debling." You said, admired of his passion.

He gives you a soft smile as he holds your gaze a while longer. Lady Danbury notices what is happening and breaks the silence.

"Oh, how foolish of me. I realized that I will be hosting a dinner party by the end of this week. I must plan accordingly. Lord Debling, would you have the honor of taking Miss Laurant around the towns square in my absence?"

The two of you are shocked by her request but the lord nods.

"Of course Lady Danbury. I'll have her return to your estate before nightfall."

She smiles and gets up, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and leaves the two of you.

Once you are alone, the two of you make eye contact again.

"I forget Lady Danbury can be so... straightforward." Lord Debling says.

You smirk, shaking your head.

"She insisted for me to stay with her longer than anticipated, especially since I've been considering to stay in Mayfair."

"You are?" He asks, hopefully.

"I am still unsure. There are... some obstacles that I may face along the way." You said, your tone sounding troubled.

"How so?" Lord Debling asks.

You were about to answer, but you decided against it. Lord Debling notices your uneasiness and leans forward.

"I apologize if I offended you at the ball. I haven't been myself of late since my accident."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for, my lord-"

"Please, it's just Alfred." He says, almost in a whisper, placing his hand on top of yours. He realizes what he has down and takes his palm away.

You shyly take yours away, blushing to yourself.

"Like you, I've faced tribulations on my travels. It has been hardsome to find people to trust along the way."

With enough courage, Alfred speaks up.

"I may not understand what you have gone through, but know that I am here as someone to listen."

Your hardened heart begins to soften as you hear the sincerity of his tone, knowing he meant every word.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Alfred had taken you around the town's square as promised, walking through the gardens or admiring paintings at museums. He even admired how you even admired a street performer playing music.

As you two caught a carriage to drive to the Danbury estate for the dinner party, Alfred begins asking about how you began to love music.

"I moved to Paris when I was a child. My family lived near an opera house and I could hear the singing of angels throughout the night. I picked up how to sing in french along the way and auditioned for a small theater. They had me sing every night and soon I became well known in the city. Afterwards, I was requested to sing in different countries and villages. I've seen so many wondrous things, I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world."

"That is remarkable. Your family must be proud."

You give a small smile. "Yes, they are. Your family must be too with your expeditions."

Alfred couldn't help but exhale through his nose, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, my family and I never saw eye to eye on my vocations. They rather have me stationed at my family's estate, to continue a legacy. But my duties held elsewhere. I never got to see them again. You were fortunate to have your parents support your dreams."

You bow your head in solemnity.

"I'm sorry to hear... and yes, I am very fortunate. Family is the one thing that I hold dear to my heart."

Lord Debling remains in silence, as he unfortunately never felt the love of a family ever in his life.

Soon, you arrived to the manor as you were greeted by Lady Danbury. Light festivities began before the dinner as you were drinking and talking with Lord Debling. You felt at ease with his company and Lady Danbury smiled at you two.

Lady Danbury walks to you both a few of her company. "Ah, Miss Laurant, allow me to introduce you to Lady Bridgerton and her daughter."

The youngest woman of the girl went up to you, smiling widely and her eyes bright.

"Lady Laurant, it is a pleasure to meet you! I went to your last performance and I was astounded, I wish I had an awe striking voice as you-"

"Hyacinth dear, breathe." Her mother jested, smiling at her daughter's enthusiasm. She looks up to you as you couldn't help but smile.

"Apologies, when I mentioned you will be in attendance for Lady Danbury's dinner, my daughter insisted she join me tonight."

"Oh, it is alright! It is lovely to meet you Hyacinth. If you like, I will be performing at the opera house by the end of this month and would love to have you there alongside your mother."

Hyacinth gleamed with joy as she smiled widely. Lord Debling looks at you lovingly, as he saw how kind hearted you truly are.

"Thank you! Thank you!" She hugged you tightly. You were shocked, but you returned the embrace.

"Now Hyacinth, why don't I share our gratitude with Miss Laurant?" Her mother said kindly as Hyacinth waived goodbye and ran off.

"Thank you for the invitation. I am sure this would be a moment she would not forget." The mother said, leaving with Lady Danbury as they talked.

"That was very kind of you to do that." Lord Debling says.

"It was the least I could do. Every child should experience life to the fullest."

You look up to see your friend in a quiet state. Since your talk of family, Alfred has been different of late. You were about to ask if he was alright until a bell rang, indicating it was time to eat dinner.

Soon, the dinner table was food of delicious foods and laughter. You were sat between Alfred and the Bridgertons and talked to Hyacinth who looked like she was over the moon. Alfred, again, was beaming at how you interacted with everyone. Your generosity and kindness lifted his mood since coming back home, and thought it could be a sign that maybe he wants you more than a friend.

Later, a servant went up to Lady Danbury with a silver tray, whispering something in her ear.

"Miss Laurant, a letter has arrived from you all the way from France." She announced.

You froze a bit until you got up from your seat and retrieved the enclosed envelope.

"May I be excused?" You ask.

Lady Danbury nods her head as you leave with haste outside.

"Oh, is everything alright?" Lady Bridgerton asks.

Lady Danbury tries to disguise her worriment for you.

"I am sure she will be just fine."

Lord Debling couldn't help but worry for you. He arises from his seat, excusing himself to find you.

He went towards the back of the estate, not finding you until he heard faint cries. Alfred strains his head and found you on a bench crying as you grabbed the letter in a fist.

"Miss Laurant?" He asks softly.

"Please, leave me be." You forced yourself to say as it was hard to breathe.

Alfred kneels in front of you as best he can and gently held your hand.

"I can't bear to leave you like this."

You open your eyes and see Alfred worried for your state. He cradles one hand with the side of your cheek, trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly.

"Alfred... I can't- I can't tell you. You won't- understand."

Alfred looks down and sees the letter in your hand. You flinch, not letting him reach it but he doesn't move.

"I want you to trust that I would never judge your secrets."

"How can I be sure?" You half sneered, feeling your walls building high.

"Because I will tell you what I hold secret too." He says.

Your face softens as Alfred sighs, as he sat by you.

"I lost my footing by a cliff side on my last quest. The terrain was slippery but I persisted on to rescue a rare creature that has been targeted for hunting. I was so close to saving it, but I felt myself falling to my death. I felt like the world was swallowing me whole. My men found me with my leg twisted and I was unresponsive. I later woke up a day later, feeling immense pain in my legs. Then a doctor came in to my tent and said I'd be able to walk within a month's time but... there was bruising around my hips. There was a possible fracture that he could not repair and said I am infertile."

You look over at Alfred who seemed so sad after admitting the truth he held so close to his chest. He wiped his nose and squinted, trying to delay the tears that begun to form.

"I was born in a family where love wasn't an option. It was always honor and duty. I never wished for that on any child... or a child of mine. And I thought my travels would be content, but realizing that I could never have a family... I never thought it would hurt me more than it should. That's why I've closed myself off from the world."

You look at him then back to your note which you crumbled.

"Five years ago, I was beginning to gain recognition as I moved closer to the city in Paris. I met a Lord who came to one of my performances. He swept me off my feet and begun to court me. He gave all of these promises that my family would never have to suffer poverty and he'd support us. He said he married me. We joined together before our wedding, but I was left alone by the alter. He left a letter, saying that he took what he wanted and never wanted to marry a woman of no status. As he fled Paris by boat, a terrible storm came and he was lost at sea. Word spread he was presumed dead and that's how I knew that there was nothing I could do. He may have took everything from me but he left something behind."

"What was it?" Alfred asks.

You look over your shoulder where you see Alfred's sincere eyes.

"A son."

Alfred remains silent.

"I know having a child before wedlock is frowned upon. If you wish to leave... I understand."

You thought he would curse you or storm without saying goodbye. But he looks at you that look he gives you and leaned forward.

"What is your son's name?"

You turn towards him, taken back.

"Stephen."

You offer the letter to Alfred and he begins to read it word for word.

"You wanted to bring him to England."

You nod your head.

"My parents have taken care of him as I left Paris. He was only 2 when I gave him to my mother and father. I promised that I would give him a life he deserves. I wanted to raise enough money to move them all here. But my parents said that they don't want to. People may raise suspicions of Stephen's parentage, they didn't want to bear him the shame that I carry."

"Nonsense. You've protected him at all costs, you've sacrificed everything!" He stormed up.

You stood up too, calming him.

"Please, not so loud." You warned, grazing your fingers on his soft lips.

The two of you froze, realizing how close in proximity you two were.

"Why do you care so much? Any man would run for the hills if they heard my dilemma."

He shakes his head in disagreement.

"Is it a crime that I care for you? A woman as yourself doesn't need to fight alone."

That's when you took a step back, hearing his words clearly.

"What do you mean a woman as myself?" You ask, your voice cracking.

Alfred realizes what he had said.

"No, I didn't mean anything by it." He said, reaching out for your hand but you step back.

"Yes you did. I didn't admit the most deepest part of myself to be ridiculed from a so called friend." You said, turning away.

"Miss Laurant, I do not think you were weak. You are far from it." He said, trying to keep up with you.

"Then what am I to you, Alfred?" You spun around, facing him with your face red with anger.

Alfred crushes his lips toward you and held you close to his chest. You were stunned at first, then you melted into his embrace as your hands laid flat against his broad chest. His heart was beating faster than any mane he has seen trollop.

Once you two parted, you look at him, astounded.

There were so many things to say, but so little time. You had to find a way to bring your family to Mayfair, or travel back to Paris to see your son again. You turned around, leaving Lord Debling alone again.

His heart sank as the kiss you two shared still hung onto his lips. He tasted hints of honey from it.

Alfred knows he upset you. He left in a hurry and flagged down his carriage. Alfred was still recovering from his wounds but he knew someone who has traveled as much as him and help him on his quest.

"Where to, Lord Debling?" The coachmen asks.

Lord Debling looks back at the estate where you left him and faced away. He had to make things right with you, and that's by reuniting you with your family.

"Take me to Colin Bridgerton's estate please."

[silenzahra]

Hey there, did you know August 21st is Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day? So I'd just like to take this opportunity to tell you how much I appreciate you both as a friend and as a writer. As you probably know, I enjoyed all of your stories. You also write amazing posts - headcanons etc. Heck, even your commentary in reblogs is always so nicely written. I think you're very talented!

It's one of your stories, Anything for him, that I owe the fact I met you on this site. It's still one of in not my favorite Luigi's Mansion fanfic. I guess it's just a reminder for the occasion since I'm sure you already know it.

And I've actually been planning to reread another of my favorites from you, Keeping you warm in the near future,

Thank you for your hard work. I know you've only recently overcome your writer's block and general burnout, so I think it's all the more important that you know your effort and dedication, past and present, is still very much appreciated. I love how passionate you are about the Mario franchise and how you share that passion in so many ways, most of all your fics.

I can't wait for your nexts works, but also please remember that it's okay to take as much time as you need and that your physical and mental health always comes first. Take care!

And happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day!

My dear @megamagimugi, have you any idea of how much your words have moved me and made my heart swell? 🥹🥹🥹

First of all, I'm sorry that I'm a day late, but the fact that you took the time to write this ask and tell me about how much you love my content and appreciate me as a writer and as a friend... I'm so honored and flattered and BLESSED I swear. Thank you so so so so SO much 🫂🫂🫂

I'm seriously so happy we got to meet thanks to you enjoying Anything for him! I can never forget about how excited you were when I announced I was working on the final chapter, which in turn made me even more excited to finish and post it 🥹 I'm truly so touched that it remains as your favorite Luigi's Mansion fanfic! That's seriously one of the highest praise I've ever received 🫂💖 And of course, the amazing and beautiful drawings you made for this story will forever live in my heart rent-free 🥹 (And hopefully soon in my walls at last!)

Oh my, you wanna reread Keeping you warm? 😍 My God, I don't think I can ever get used to people rereading my stories. It's just so incredible and amazing to think that you liked them so much that you feel like revisiting them months after they were posted! 🥹 Again, that's one of the highest compliments I believe any writer can get. I'm just so honored to have gotten it from you, dear friend 🫂💖

I really feel so validated by your recognition of my efforts to overcome this writer's block and burnout I've been fighting for the past month 🥹 It's thanks to you and this wonderful community that I'm feeling so much better! And I'm also so happy and blessed that I get to share my passion with you and our wonderful friends 🥰 Thank you so much, Mugi, from the bottom of my heart 🫂💖

I deeply appreciate both your advice and your enthusiasm! I'll still be slow at getting back to writing and actually posting something, but I'm glad to announce that I've started making progress at last! 🥰 I'll go at my own, slow pace, but just as Mario taught us: we should never give up 💪❤️

Thank you once again for this lovely surprise and for your unwavering support, dear Mugi! I hope that you know that I deeply appreciate you as a friend as well 🫂 You're such a kind and sweet person, and I feel so connected to you! I'm so incredibly happy that we met 🥰💖

And of course, I'm deeply in love with your art style as well! 😄 I'm just so glad and honored that my story inspired you to create the beautiful pieces you gifted me with 💖

Please have the biggest hug ever and take care, dear friend! 🫂💖

[commander-krios]

A Divine Dream

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Rolan/Dammon Rating: Teen Summary: An invitation to a Grand Ball. A returning hero. And the man who'd gotten away. Words: 5798 Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Slow Dancing, Ballroom Dancing, Banter, Happy Ending, Love and Hope, Second Chances, Mild Language, Background Wyll/Karlach

Read on AO3

This fic was written for @Cozy_Bossi to go along with a piece of art they made a few months ago of Dammon and Rolan. I've attached the picture and their twitter on AO3 so that you can follow them for more wonderful art!

Also, I hit 200k words posted for 2023!

Your presence is requested at a Grand Ball in honour of the rebuilding of Baldur’s Gate by his eminence, Duke Ulder Ravengard.

The invitation was written in elegant script, looped letters in golden ink that glittered in the light. He knew he should attend. Most likely, his absence would be noticed and considered rude among the upper circles of the city. He was the master of Ramazith’s Tower and Baldur’s Gate’s newest archmage, yet he had much to still do, even a year after the destruction of the Absolute. With a sigh, Rolan tossed the parchment on his desk amidst mountains of scrolls and books. 

The movement caught Cal’s eye. His brother glanced up from his book, scrunching his face in concern. “Another solicitor?”

“If only.” Untying his hair from the elaborate braid he’d started to wear recently, he brushed his fingers through the strands, combing the knots out. “There is a party for the Duke in a tenday. I’m expected to attend.”

“A party sounds fun.” Cal reached for the paper, glancing it over quickly before a grin appeared on his face. A grin that Rolan didn’t like the look of. “And Ravengard is fair and honorable. You might actually enjoy yourself.”

“The horror.” Rolan muttered, the sarcasm not lost on his younger brother. “I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather be doing than getting dressed up like a prized peacock and prancing around a dance floor.”

“Is it because you don’t have a date?” Cal teased, setting the invitation face up in front of Rolan again, the golden script mocking him.

“A date? Have you seen the type of person that tries to woo me? Hardly any of them are worth the time or effort.”

“So you’re saying that some of them are worth it?” 

“Please spare me.” The invitation sat open, a temptation despite his objections. How long had it been since he’d left the Tower to merely socialize? His work as archmage brought him to many drawing rooms in Baldur’s Gate, not to mention his travels across Faerun visiting with other archwizards. He wasn’t locked away in Ramazith’s Tower like his predecessor had been. No, he frequently took on apprentices, delved into research with other wizards in the Realms.

But his patience for frivolous things, for frivolous people, had waned in the last months. What use was making connections, social or otherwise, when the one person he wished to see had left for Avernus nearly a full year ago?

Cal shifted in his seat, bringing his book closer as if he planned to continue reading, but his eyes were fixed on a singular spot on the page. He knew what this was. Cal craved life outside of the tower walls. Lia was well established with the Flaming Fist. She had friends and dates and hobbies that kept her away for days at a time. Cal had put his life on hold to stay behind and help Rolan with the organization of the Tower, of everything Lorroakan had left behind. He worked in Sorcerous Sundries most days, only going out on the occasion when Lia insisted.

After everything they’d been through to get to this point, Rolan knew he owed his brother this.

With a sigh, Rolan rested his elbow on the desk, cupping his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed on his brother. “Cal.”

Cal glanced up curiously, the shadow of a grin twitching at his lips. “Yes, Rolan?”

“Did you want to go to the ball with me?”

In his excitement, Cal slammed the book shut hard enough that the entire table shook. Rolan cast a spell to stop the ink pot from tumbling to the floor. It floated, suspended in mid-air before he snatched it and returned it to the safety of the desk. 

“I know you’re excited, but please be careful.”

“Sorry.” Cal said with a sheepish grin. “Should we invite Lia?”

“I suspect she’ll be there.” Rolan cleared away the texts, standing and replacing them to their spots on the bookshelf. He didn’t want to discuss the ball, or the Flaming Fist, or anything when he knew how easily it could lead to places and people he wasn’t ready to talk about yet. Friends that were long gone and most likely would never return.

“Right. Flaming Fist and all.” Cal stood as well, stretching to relieve his muscles from sitting in one place so long. “Should I check in on Tolna before bed?”

“No.” He said, realizing his voice was sharper than was necessary. Forcing himself to be gentler, he turned to his brother, putting on his best smile. The frown on Cal’s face only proved he was still terrible at it. “I’ll do it. I should secure the vault and check in on a few things anyway. Go. Get some rest.”

Cal hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but decided better of it. “Alright. You’ll let me know if you need help, right?”

Rolan nodded, but he knew no matter how much help he needed, he wouldn’t bother his brother’s well deserved rest. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he gathered up his loose hair, tying it back like he used to do when they traveled the dangerous roads of the Storm Coast. If Cal noticed, he didn’t comment on it. “Of course. Now off with you. I have work to do.”

Cal knew better than to argue with him, it wasn’t worth the trouble. Even if Rolan was in the wrong, it took practically pulling teeth for him to admit it. When his brother finally exited through the portal, the wizard of Ramazith’s Tower was left in the echoey silence.

~~~~

Duke Ulder Ravengard’s estate was lavishly decorated with red and gold hangings, perfectly shined silverware, the glow of hundreds of candles creating the perfect romantic atmosphere for the couples that had already taken to the dancefloor. Gowns made of delicate fabrics in colors of indigo and crimson, lavender and silver, each one more beautiful than the last, billowed and swayed with each movement. Elaborate beading, expensive jewelry, fashionably coiffed hair…

Rolan still couldn’t believe he was here with the nobility as an equal. All of his ambition and dreaming never prepared him for this new life: the opulence, the respect, the wealth of knowledge at his hands. He knew how lucky he was for such a chance, he’ll always be grateful to Wyll and his friends for helping him acquire it. 

With a wave of his hand and a quiet recitation of a well-known spell, stars sparkled across the ceiling, falling in wide arcs of light and color, and a smattering of applause went through the room at the sight.

Cal inhaled sharply beside him, eyes fixed on the magic until it disappeared, wonder and appreciation  on his face. “Wow. That never gets old, does it?”

Rolan smiled softly, clapping a hand to his brother’s shoulder, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the light show. Almost like old times. “I’m glad you convinced me to come. Now, go. Enjoy yourself. I am going to see if Lia is here yet.”

Cal met his eyes, hesitating. “Are you sure you want me to leave you?”

“I can handle some nobles, Cal.” Rolan held back a laugh at the incredulous look on his brother’s face. “I’m not that insufferable, am I?”

“Well…”

Pushing gently against Cal’s shoulder, he wasn’t surprised when he burst into laughter. “Get out of here, you menace.”

Cal was still chuckling as he melted into the crowd, in search of whoever he knew among the guests. The Flaming Fist was here in force, silent watchers in the corners of the room, although most threats to the Duke or the city had long disappeared with the destruction of the Elder Brain and the deaths of the Chosen Three. Baldur’s Gate, like much of the Storm Coast, hadn’t experienced peace such as this in years. He hoped it lasted.

Rolan had no difficulty finding Duke Ravengard in the crowd, he and Counsellor Florrick speaking to nobility and common folk alike, neither being barred from the Upper City as was once the norm. Now, everyone had a voice in the rebuilding, in the life that was going to bloom here, and Rolan was grateful to be part of it.

Perhaps there was hope, after all. Hope for a better future, for a happier one. A future where he didn’t have to regret or question the choices he’d made.

A future where he finally made a life for himself.

His sister was at her post near the back of the room, the refreshment table not far from where she stood. When Lia noticed his approach, a smile spread across her face, waving in the direction he’d come from.

“I knew you had to be here when the magic show lit up the room. Can’t stop showing off, can you?”

“I did it for Cal, if you must know.” He replied flippantly, reaching immediately for the Arabellan Dry and pouring a large glass full. “He is here, somewhere.”

“Probably searching for Lord Guthmere’s daughter.” She teased, pretending to be at attention when he glanced at her. “They’ve taken a liking to one another.”

“Please, Lia. Let’s not make enemies of the patriars of the city already. I don’t want to be chased out by a mob because you and Cal cannot be discrete.”

She was silent as he sipped the wine, watching the people of Baldur’s Gate flirt, dance, and stand a world apart from them. Even if he was considered among them, Rolan doubted he would ever feel as comfortable among the glitter and gold than he was in the Sundries library, discussing spells and history with other wizards, most notably Elminster and Gale, both of whom visited him frequently over the last year. It’d been quiet, informative, and immensely enjoyable.

“You look weird.” Lia said, barely concealed mischief flirting across her face. She wore her Flaming Fist uniform, the crimson fabric and silver iron looking right on her. He would never admit it aloud, but he was proud of the woman she’d become.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t still irritate him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He brushed a hand over the rich blue robes he wore, enjoying how the golden threads shone in the light. Rolan had spent days searching for the perfect set of robes for the Duke’s ball, only to end up in Facemaker’s at the last moment to find something worthy of an archmage. “This was an expensive purchase.”

“You might want to ask for your money back.” She teased him, motioning to the ensemble. His frown deepened. “Half of it is missing.”

Rolan sniffed in irritation, lifting the goblet to his mouth again.“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Hells, you’re sensitive tonight.” Lia rolled her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t roll all the way into her skull. “I was joking, you idiot.”

“It’s difficult to tell when everything you say is a joke.”

She stared at him until his lips twitched, a smile curling his lips without his permission. Lia snorted a laugh, shaking her head but the expression on her face was approving. Figured.

“Why are you over here sulking, anyway? I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love to get to know the fabulous Master Rolan.”

He gazed into the wine glass, the dark burgundy liquid holding no answers to what plagued him. Only he knew and like hell would he explain any of it to his sister. 

He diverted her attention instead.

“Shouldn’t you be worrying less about me and more about protecting the Duke instead?”

Lia rolled her eyes, nodding to the Duke in question. “As if anyone is going to get past his entourage. Most of the Fist are here for the appearance of protection. Absolutely no one is going to hurt the Duke with a wizard prodigy, a Harper, and a damned vampire spawn protecting him.”

There was no doubt about that. The Duke’s son had left Baldur’s Gate to his father’s benevolent rule, but hadn’t left him alone. Many of his companions had either stayed in the city or visited frequently, to the point that they were welcomed guests at Ravengard’s.

“I suppose you have a point.” Rolan conceded before taking another sip of wine, refusing to meet his sister’s gaze. The last thing he wanted was to see her smug grin. She may have won this argument, but there would be plenty of those tonight and he wasn’t going to concede victory so early. “But then again, I am also here to protect our beloved Duke. Lest you forgot.”

“Could never forget a head that big.”

Rolan held his tongue when there was movement ahead, a gathering of the patriars and their guests as the familiar visage of Duke Ravengard appeared, calling for their attention as if his very presence didn’t immediately call for it. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed even Lia had snapped to attention, her chin held high and her focus entirely on the man she worked for. He’d never seen her so disciplined before. 

Perhaps he wasn’t the only one to truly benefit from the time they’d spent in Baldur’s Gate.

“Now that everyone has gathered, it’s time I explained why I asked you here.” Ulder Ravengard stood slightly raised above the crowd, a goblet of wine in his hand, Florrick and a few of his closest council standing a few feet off, watching with much less anxiety than the rest.

Whispers broke out, speculation running rampant. Ravengard raised his hands in supplication, a genuine happiness on his face that Rolan hadn’t seen much of since Wyll left for Avernus, and the guests fell silent, waiting with bated breath for his announcement. Rolan sighed quietly, trying to still the anxious flutter of his hands. He folded his arms over his chest, tucking his hands against his body, trying to ignore the foreboding that tickled at the back of his mind. 

“It’s been nearly a year and yet, I never gave up hope that my son would return home to Baldur’s Gate. To us.” Rolan didn’t miss the whispered ‘to me’ that Ravengard spoke under his breath. “And for the first time since that day against the Netherbrain, he isn’t alone. Please aid me in welcoming back the Pride of the Gate, your hero, and my son. Wyll.”

Applause and cheers mixed among the patriars, all turning as one as the enormous ornate doors opened once more to admit their heroes. Wyll Ravengard stood at the front, looking as much the hero as the Blade of Frontiers ever had, dressed in an impeccable doublet of black and gold, a prince among patriars.

The tiefling barbarian, Karlach, stood beside him with their arms linked, a radiant force with her wide smile and affectionate laugh, eyes sparkling with a fire that always burned within her.

Rolan hadn’t heard a single scrap of news regarding the tiefling with the infernal engine until now. Her return to Avernus was kept quiet among the companions and the few people who knew of her affliction. Duke Ravengard’s mood had soured considerably after Wyll left with her, refusing to let the woman he loved suffer alone, but tonight, there was a new light within the Duke… within them all. A happiness that Rolan hadn’t seen in so long. 

Wyll’s infectious laughter and wit immediately drew people to his side as it always did. He was surrounded by his usual friends, those that had helped him end the Absolute plot. The silver-haired cleric held a goblet of wine and a rather beautiful smile on her face. The wizard of Waterdeep with his jovial laughter and light hearted, yet silly jokes. The pale vampire who was the life of the party, taking in the attention with the air of a man who’d done this sort of thing his entire life. The High Harper and the former First Druid stood side by side farther back, discussing something at length with the Githyanki, supplied with all manner of drink and entertainment, preferring to shield themselves from the golden light that radiated from the savior of Baldur’s Gate instead of basking in it.

But none of them held the allure of the one who stood within the confines of their circle, out of place among heroes but never far from Rolan’s thoughts.

A tiefling blacksmith with a heart of gold and a smile to match it.

Dammon’s radiant smile was all the more blinding with the joy reflected in his dazzling blue eyes. He watched Karlach and Wyll with the pride of a friend, the affection of a brother. They had been his constant companions for nearly a year and yet, Rolan was jealous of the bond he’d so clearly built with them. 

It was then that Rolan realized what their return meant. Karlach was no longer burning up, the fire of the infernal engine stifled in her chest. 

They’d done it.

“It sounds like father has been telling tall tales about our exploits.”

“If anyone deserves to be a hero, it’s you, darling.” Astarion cooed at him, lifting a glass of wine to his lips. “Just take it before he decides to build a statue or something. The man is relentless.”

Karlach laughed, a harsh loud bark that was full of so much love and joy that it nearly broke Rolan’s heart. How he missed her vibrant personality, despite how loud and perhaps a tad bit boisterous she could be. Wyll took her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles, a gesture that felt too intimate for the setting.

He ignored his friend’s teasing and instead, tugged Karlach closer, slipping his free arm around her waist, their combined hands coming up in the imitation of a dancer’s pose. “Let’s lead this dance, shall we, my love?”

Karlach responded, but Rolan didn’t care what it was she said, what any of them said, not when Dammon had noticed him staring. Realizing his mouth was hanging open, he snapped it shut, blush crawling up his neck and cheeks to the tips of his ears. Dammon smiled at him kindly and approached as the heroes of Baldur’s Gate continued to the dance floor, ignoring the two of them completely.

Rolan’s gaze swept Dammon’s body, taking in the new piercing hanging from his pointed ear, the dark blue doublet with fancy cloak, gold clasps glittering in the light of a thousand candles.

“I didn’t realize you’d returned. This is quite the surprise.” Rolan said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible, but knowing he immediately failed when Dammon glanced at him, curiosity winning out over anything else. He swallowed with some difficulty, a lump sitting painfully in his throat. Might as well have been his foot.

“Yes. It was… recent. Very recent.” Dammon cleared his own throat, suddenly captivated by the sight of the dancers. Avoiding his gaze, most likely. “Karlach is doing much better than I expected. Better than I had hoped. I’m proud of how far she’s come. She deserves a happy ending.”

And what of us?

Rolan’s shoulders stiffened as his gaze sought out the subject of their conversation. She was laughing loudly, her voice carrying over the music and the chatter. Rolan could acknowledge that she deserved this, both she and Wyll did, but he was still angry that Dammon of all people took that responsibility on to himself. To leave for the Hells, the very place they’d escaped from such a short time ago, to put himself in danger for a woman he barely knew. Only because of the infernal engine she carried. 

He took advantage of Dammon’s distraction to study him. The doublet he wore was a rich ocean blue, only highlighting the azure of his pretty eyes. His blond hair brushed his shoulders when he turned, watching a particularly handsome couple spin across the dance floor. The corners of his mouth tipped up, his expression gentle, softening his features. Longing thrummed beneath Rolan’s skin, the desire to reach out and comb some of that blond hair from his face, to tuck it behind an ear, if only to trail one of his claws across Dammon’s jaw.

“I suppose they all do. They did save us, after all.” Rolan forced the words out, trying to bridge the gap between them, the one that he had created when they’d last spoken. Because despite Dammon deciding to help Karlach’s mission in the Hells, Rolan was the one who’d taken a step back, reexamined things. He decided to leave the fleeting touches and longing looks behind him.

Rolan didn’t want to be left alone picking up the pieces of his heart when Dammon didn’t return. For a year, he’d been right. Dammon was gone, he wasn’t coming back, the Hells had torn him apart or had broken him. And if he did come back, what would be left? Would the man he cared for even still be in there, somewhere?

Rolan knew he wouldn’t survive that. Not after everything they’d fought against, fought for.

Dammon played with the edge of his cloak, the fine fabric shimmering with each movement. He was lost in his mind again, the revelry echoing in a sea of sound and color, a kaleidoscope of chaos. “Everyone here is a hero, in their own way. Even you, Rolan.”

He snorted, resisting an eye roll at the almost compliment. “Of course I am. My greatest achievements being almost getting killed by goblins and shadow creatures only to end up abused at the hands of a megalomaniac. You have a strange definition of hero.”

Dammon glanced up at his confession and Rolan realized too late what he’d admitted. He couldn’t meet the blacksmith’s gaze, this time he was the one to stare out into the crowd. “Lorroakan did what?”

Shit.

“I… Karlach told me about the aasimar, but not-”

Rolan waved the concern away, trying not to feel embarrassed at how easy it was to talk to Dammon. Like old times, indeed. “It’s fine. I’m fine. If it makes it easier to swallow, I helped to throw him from the Tower.”

“It does not.” Dammon sighed, closing his eyes and breathing slowly as if to calm himself. “If I had known, if you’d told me-”

“It changes nothing. Lorroakan is dead and I’m the new Master of the Tower. It’s taken a lot of work but it is mine now. And the Realms’. Knowledge shouldn’t be hoarded.” 

Dammon made a noise low in his throat. A strangled laugh. At least, that’s what he thought it was.

“Is something funny?”

“I didn’t expect you to see the silver lining in such an awful situation. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always had confidence in excess.”

“Confidence or not, I’ve had plenty of practice surviving. We both have, it seems.”

Dammon bit his lip, concentrating on the words for what they were, a truth that was impossible for him to refute. They’d both done quite a bit of surviving over the last few years. Together and not.

And that was the problem, Rolan realized. Despite everything he’d gained, the safety and security of his position, the wealth and knowledge at his fingertips, the wonderful lives that he always swore he’d provide for his siblings, he was still in survival mode. A difficult habit to break, for sure.

“Rolan, I-”

Clearing his throat, Rolan cut Dammon off before he could get anything else out. The last thing he wanted was a heart to heart in such a public place, with the man who he, once upon a time, wanted something more with. “I apologize, but I really must return to the tower. It’s excellent that you’re well, Dammon. Truly. Perhaps, in the future, you can regale me with tales of your fight in Avernus.”

A brief flash of uncertainty crossed Dammon’s face before he hid it behind a smile. The blacksmith was always levelheaded, more so than Rolan ever was.

Rolan turned away, intending to disappear into the crowd without another word, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks before he could take a single step. “Ah, here you are. The man I was looking for. Where are you off in such a rush?”

Wyll. Of all the people who could’ve caught his escape, it had to be the one whose disappointment would hurt most.

“I’m terribly sorry for leaving so soon… there are things I forgot that must be done, tonight-”

Wyll tsked, shaking his head with a frown on his face. For a brief moment, Rolan felt like a child again, being scolded by the matron of the orphanage he’d been abandoned at. The expression always rankled and this was no exception.

“The Archmage of Baldur’s Gate must stay for one dance. Come, I haven’t seen you in nearly a year and you’ve been standing here stiff as the statue my father said Lia had commissioned of you.”

“She did what?”

“I must insist that you enjoy yourself.” Wyll smiled kindly, nodding towards the dance floor. Rolan’s heart thudded dangerously fast in his chest at the thought of twirling among the other guests. Dancing wasn’t one of his strengths. He couldn’t recall ever having to do so. “Please. Think of it as a favor to an old friend.”

Damn him.

“I’m sure I can enjoy myself quite well with another glass of wine.” 

Dammon coughed, covering his mouth with a hand, eyes staring at his feet. Rolan easily saw the smirk he attempted but completely failed to hide. So this was an ambush, was it?

“You mustn’t leave us so soon, Rolan.” Wyll continued as Karlach joined them, the fitted ebony gown looking even more stunning up close. She slipped her hand into Wyll’s, the joy of being to touch her love clear on her face. “There is plenty of fun left to be had.”

“But, I don’t have a partner.” Rolan responded, a smug grin aimed in the direction of the blacksmith. Dammon’s eyes widened slightly, as if he realized where Rolan’s thoughts had gone. If I have to suffer this madness, then so do you.

“Crazy idea!” Karlach interrupted, a grin breaking out across her lips, excitement sparkling in those glowing golden eyes. “You and Dammon could dance. Together. Because if it’s one thing I know after all of this crazy shit, it’s that everyone needs a chance to find that special person that makes them better. And Dammon here,” Karlach nudged him with an elbow, a grin that could light the Hells on her face. “Well, let’s just say he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since we left for Avernus.”

A blush colored Dammon’s cheeks at the revelation. “Karlach!”

“Was it a secret?” She asked, seeming genuinely confused and Rolan might’ve laughed if he wasn’t so embarrassed. “Come on, the two of you are irritatingly obvious and if I have to throw you into a wardrobe until you finally just f-”

“What Karlach means to say is-” Wyll cut her off, tugging her away from the two of them with a laugh. But not before throwing one last look at them. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Karlach’s laughter faded into the murmurs of the crowd, the son of an Archduke and the tiefling barbarian he loved finding the time to enjoy their lives now that the latest crisis had passed. Rolan released a breath, feeling the tightness in his chest ease only a little, a new fear warring inside of him. With a quick glance in Dammon’s direction, he wasn’t surprised to see the blacksmith studying him. 

“I think that was the most polite threat I’ve ever had aimed at me.” 

Rolan laughed, feeling breathless, and perhaps a little dizzy. It was definitely a threat, but one he might actually not be afraid of the consequences of. “I guess we have only one option then. That is, if you’re amenable to a dance.”

Hells, was he really doing this? He didn’t even really know how to dance a proper waltz.

Dammon raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Is that what you want?”

The man was so annoyingly handsome, with his light hair cascading around his face and striking blue eyes that haunted Rolan so many nights since their first meeting in Elturel. And here they were, both alive and settled in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by friends, living the future they’d only dreamed about. Dammon was watching him intently, a soft grin curling his lips in a way that left Rolan’s insides feeling like pudding.

Holding his arm out in invitation, he tried to quell the erratic beat of his heart when Dammon linked their arms together, fingers brushing softly against his forearm.

Dammon was alive. After all of this time. The Hells hadn’t destroyed him, hadn’t changed him. His eyes were still kind, soft, beautiful. And to touch him after everything...

The room was too warm, too crowded, too bright, but when Dammon turned to face him in the midst of it all, everything faded to background noise. The only thing Rolan could see was the hypnotic azure of his eyes, a golden ring around his irises that was the same color as a noonday sun. There was a pink flush to his cheeks, the candles in the chandelier above highlighting the gold in his blond hair. Dammon was ethereal, dazzling, and too good for him.

The orchestra began its song, the music swelling around them as Dammon took the lead, free hand sliding to Rolan’s waist while the other gripped his hand gently. Then, without warning, they were moving, no, gliding, across the dance floor, their feet barely touching the ground as they went. Rolan knew there were eyes on them, he felt them burning into the back of his head, but the look of unadulterated bliss on Dammon’s face kept his attention.

There was nothing more beautiful to him than the sight of Dammon’s smile as they spun in the complicated dance, his face flushed in exhilaration, a laugh on his lips that came out awed, delighted. 

“You’re good at this.” Rolan said, forgetting himself in the moment. He felt weightless as Dammon changed direction, stepping even closer. Blush creeped up his neck at the soft brush of their chests and his breath caught in his throat. “Uh, dancing, that is.”

Dammon chuckled, barely able to hide the smile on his face. “You are kind to say that. I admit, it’s been a while.”

The music picked up speed, a tempo that had the rest of the dancers spinning madly around them. Dammon’s gloved fingers tightened on his hip, digging into his waist and if his hands weren’t protected by the thick gloves he wore, his claws would’ve drawn blood. Rolan clenched his hand against Dammon’s shoulder, letting the music distract him from the sudden uncomfortable feeling flooding through him. Closing his eyes, he let Dammon lead him through the dance, each twirl and sway of their bodies, each tap of their feet to the rhythm, each brush against the other’s body nothing short of intoxicating.

Rolan wanted to stay in this moment indefinitely, free of responsibility for the first time in months, with the air rushing by as he realized how much he truly did enjoy dancing. At least, he did in the arms of a man who clearly knew what he was doing. 

“Can I be honest with you?”

Dammon’s question pulled Rolan from his mind. He opened his eyes to find his friend watching him intently. His eyes begged for understanding, for a chance to be vulnerable. Rolan, at least, owed him that much. “

After a beat, Dammon realized his breath, tilting his head slightly to watch out for other revelers, focusing on everything but Rolan’s face. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to see his expression at his revelation. “I didn’t believe I would survive the trip to Avernus. I’d accepted that the Hells would be my tomb. That I would never see the sky again. Never see my friends from Elturel again. But whenever Karlach or I started to doubt, the Blade of Frontiers was there filling our heads with hope.”

“That does sound like him. Irritatingly so.”

Dammon laughed, a soft sound that loosened the butterflies in his stomach and he nearly felt as if he’d be sick. “If there is one word to describe Wyll Ravengard, it is hero.”

“A hero, yes, that’s for certain.” Rolan snorted, leaning forward to glance around them. Guests were still coming and going, and would be well into the night, and for a moment he contented himself with watching the glittering jewelry and fabric, the gilded gold and gemstones, the dancing lights above. It was lovely to behold, this moment of peaceful bliss.

“Do you have an issue with heroic types, Rolan?”

The question brought his gaze back to Dammon and the smile that greeted him there. He was teasing, eyes hooded and sparkling with laughter, and they twirled again, in their own world where no one else but them existed. “Depends on the hero we’re talking about. But to answer your question. No, I don’t have an issue with them. Not anymore.”

With a shake of his head, a breathless laugh escaped his lips, but he didn’t once take his eyes from Rolan’s. “Well, that’s excellent news because I’m dancing with my hero. To be fair, I almost feel like I'm dreaming.”

Rolan might’ve scoffed if the admission didn’t shock him. “Me? A hero? I think the Hells scrambled your brain.”

Dammon rolled his eyes, but sidled closer, their bodies touching again as they danced. “You saved us in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I wouldn’t be here if not for you so… thank you.”

Rolan broke eye contact, staring at where their hands were entwined. Maybe… this was a second chance. Maybe there was more here than either of them expected. Perhaps, together, they could figure out what that was.

With a smile, he returned his gaze to Dammon, thoughts of a divine dream dancing in his head. A dream that he refused to imagine for so long that he craved it as much as he did the wine in his goblet. His hand tangled into the golden locks that brushed Dammon’s shoulders, enjoying the shiver that ran down his spine at the silkiness. 

“If you’re staying in the city, I’m certain I’ll need your heroics to save me. From a stuck cork in a wine bottle, perhaps?”

Dammon laughed, the sound a balm for the soul but did little for the erratic beating of his heart in his chest. “I’m sure I can handle that.”

Yes, quite the divine dream.

[scribespirare]

Hi big fan! The Flowerfang content you make is honestly the best I've ever seen written!

I was wondering just a lil inspo if you are bored.

But what about a piece with some big time villain like flirting with our Miles and Miguel going into protective/possessive (Like the nerve of this guy to flirt with our spiderman!) mode, but getting his ass handed to him and worried how will he protect Miles from this evil creep!

...Only for our boy to end the fight easily and quickly because he's not defenseless, he's spiderman! But still Miguel sweet of you to worry and try and defend our boys honor.

Anyway I'll always love whatever you write! No matter the ask! Thanks for continuing to write about this paring!

yallre both so sweet and ily!!! I combined these two requests into one but kinda left out some of the finer points from the first one (tho my first attempt at filling that one did result in something that might be a full length one-shot. we'll see)

Sometimes, Miles hates being an Omega. He hasn’t had long to really get used to the idea honestly, since he’d presented just a year ago. And there are still a lot of prejudices against Omegas that drive him up the damn wall with how stupid they are.

But sometimes, those prejudices come in handy and Miles finds being an Omega pretty damn funny.

The Alpha bad guy in front of Miles has a bit of a dopey expression on his face and is gesturing Miles towards him. He’s part of a gang of thieves that have been running heists all over New York, and Miles had brought in backup in an effort to try and nab all of them at once. Gwen, Hobie, and of course Miguel are all hunting down their own suspects.

And Miles is following tall, dark, and ski-mask into an alley. All it had taken was lifting the edge of his own mask to let his scent out, his suit specially designed to keep it from leaking and making him easily identifiable, and bam. Love struck Alpha. Or lust struck, judging by the leer on his face. Whatever, Miles will take it.

Less than a minute later and Miles has the man webbed to a wall and is dropping a pin on his location on his comm so he can meet up with others.

“Omega slut!” the thief is yelling when Miguel swings into view and then drops into the alley, light as ever on his feet despite his bulk.

Miguel’s eyes narrow and he looks from Miles to the thief.

Miles just shrugs. “What? I let him scent me and he basically begged me to web him up.”

“Whore!” the man screams, at the exact moment Miguel growls, “You did what!?”

And yeah, okay, Miguel is Miles’ Alpha and all but there’s no need for the theatrics, damn. “Woah, easy, big guy,” Miles says, palms up. “I just thought it’d be the fastest way to get him to stop running. And I was right.”

“That doesn’t-” Miguel cuts himself off with a snarl because the thief is screaming again, this time a series of slurs directed at Omegas. Stalking towards him, Miguel delivers a single, well-placed punch to the side of the man’s head and knocks him out shockingly fast. Then he’s whirling and stalking that same predator stalk towards Miles. “¿Qué carajo estabas pensando!?”

“Uh,” Miles says, refusing to back up even when his hind brain is screaming at him to do so. “I was thinking I wanted to catch this guy quickly. We kind of had plans today, remember?” They were supposed to have been going on a date, but then these guys had popped up. Considering Miguel had put together a plan to catch them long before he and Miles had decided to go out, the bad guys won out.

“You purposefully allowed an Alpha to scent you while you’re in your suit, risking your identity, and the fact that you’re unbonded just makes it all the worse! Mierda, what if he had managed to over power you? What if he’d-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Miles says over the angry stream of words. “It’s fine, cálmate-”

“Cálmate!?” Miguel repeats, and suddenly his hands are on Miles’ shoulders and and Miles is being shoved back back back until he hits the brick alley wall. “Don’t you tell me to calm down, Miles. You know how I feel about you being unbonded-”

Badly. He feels very, very negatively about the fact that Miles can’t take his bite yet. And normally Miles agrees with him because he also wants to bond. His age is the only thing keeping them from sealing the deal already. But right now Miles could care less because Miguel is being a dick about this for some reason.

“-and still you go and throw yourself out there, letting some random Alpha get your scent, and why? Because it saved you five minutes? Nunca piensas!”

“First of all, he wasn’t going to overpower me,” Miles cuts in, glaring hard at the other man. Which is kind of hard to do when said man has a foot of height on you and is standing so close Miles has to tip his head back. But he does his best. “Second, why are your panties in such  twist about this?”

Miguel sucks in a breath through his teeth and before Miles knows what’s happening he’s been flipped around, cheek meeting uncomfortably with cool, rough brick. He’s trapped there by the heat and weight of Miguel behind him and he can feel the Alpha lean down, close to his ear.

“You’re mine, Miles,” Miguel growls. “You’re mine, even if I can’t bite you yet. And now some fucking Alpha has your scent and a grudge and he can come back at any time, looking for the Omega that got the better of him.”

And comprehension dawns on Miles. “Oh,” he breathes, relaxing a little in Miguel’s hold. “You’re jealous that some other Alpha was interested.”

“Puta madre! I’m not jealous, Miles! Will you take this seriously for two damn seconds?”

Miles hums, holding back a laugh by the skin of his teeth. “I am taking it seriously,” he tries, even as he arches his neck and cants his hips back. “You’re just being your protective, possessive, Alpha self. Can’t stand the thought of someone else thinking they could bite and claim me. Thinking they could put their hands on me. You can’t stand the though that for a moment there he really thought he was going to be the one to bring down Spider-Man just by pinning me down and knot-”

The rest of Miles’ words are cut off by a cry of pain as Miguel suddenly bites down hard on the sensitive flesh between shoulder and throat. It’s exactly what Miles was expecting though, as is the way Miguel presses him even further into the wall, one hand at his hip ripping at Miles’ suit.

The teeth leave Miles’ throat but its only so Miguel can growl, “Maldito malcriado. You drive me insane, you know that?”

Miles just laughs, reaching back to grab Miguel by the hair and yanking on it. “You started this, big guy. You’re the possessive asshole freaking out and getting all Alpha on me. Now are you gonna finish this or what?”

It’s simply not physically possible for Miguel to fuck Miles while they’re standing up. The height difference puts Miguel’s cock at around mid-stomach on Miles. But that doesn’t mean Miguel can’t throw Miles down on the dirty pavement and fuck him there instead. He doesn’t let up until Miles is near tears and chanting “Miguel” and “yours”and “my Alpha” mindlessly.

[toujokaname]

Card shuffle / Episode 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Rinne, Tatsumi, Aira, Mayoi

"Why'd you change so much, Rinne-senpai?"

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Training Room

Rinne: Anyway, yeah.

For that reason, we've been dragged into this fateful (?) showdown (pfft) between ALKALOID and Crazy:B! Talk about being saddled with a stupid plan!

Honestly, it's a royal pain in the ass to deal with, since it was clearly cooked up by some moron who doesn't know jack about us.

You guys aside, we Crazy:B are still at a disadvantage in ES 'cause of what we did in the summer. We reap what we sow, but still?

Apparently, ES wants to make this Matrix thing into a big event that'll mark the end of their first year of existence—

And we gotta do our best to hype it up, right?

If we disobey, well, you guys may be fine, but we might actually get the boot this time.

Can't say I'm thrilled about caving in to threats, but... Really, what has ES ever done for us?

Did they actually think we'd be all like "oh, yay, we're so pumped to work for ES!" with stars in our eyes? That nonsense's fine in dreams, but they need a reality check already, hm?

Tatsumi: ...You've been harsher than usual for a while now. Rinne-san, do you have any particular thoughts on this plan?

Though it's admittedly a flawed project, I'd consider it an honor to be entrusted with a major event.

Will this, too, be made fun of as a model answer from a goody-two-shoes?

Rinne: Ahh... Well, no need to worry 'bout that.

It's just that, back when I was an idol under my own name, there was a lot going on.

Aira: ...?

Rinne: Anyway, seems like ES is dead set on having ALKALOID and Crazy:B duke it out no matter what.

Tatsumi: Yes... It appears they want to create that kind of wrestling match atmosphere.

Aira: In reality, we're not even on bad terms... I mean, we had some issues in the summer, but honestly, we barely cross paths at work.

Mayoi: Our target audiences are completely different... The so-called issues in the summer largely revolved around aiding Hiiro-san's efforts to stop Rinne-san from going on a rampage.

From a personal standpoint, we harbor no ill will towards Crazy:B.

Aira: Though we're at least aware of each other, since we debuted at the same time.

If anything, Crazy:B's constant blunders make us look better in comparison, so it's kinda handy.

Rinne: Mhm, mhm. But see, that's a problem for ES! They really want us to be archenemies!

And that's when the focus turned to me and Otouto-kun. We're blood-related brothers, each leading Crazy:B and ALKALOID.

"The Amagi brothers have always had a bad relationship, and they formed their units just to spite each other—"

Something like that. Seems they wanna make a scandalous scenario that the public's gonna eat right up.

Aira: Even though you and Hiro-kun actually seem rather close... I mean, for some reason, he weirdly looks up to such a scumbag of an older brother.

Rinne: Oi, oi, don't call me a scumbag. If I'm not the "foul-mouthed character" type, fans might get disappointed.

Aira: Every once in a while, you put on airs of a snobby senior idol...

Anyway, I think I get the gist of it?

ES wants to create a scenario where Hiro-kun and Rinne-senpai are at odds 'cause it fits their script.

Rinne: Right, right. That's why I became ALKALOID's leader this time as part of that scenario.

We'll swap units temporarily to prove ourselves and brag about beating our sibling.

So, for example, what happens if I make ALKALOID more successful than it was when Otouto-kun was leading?

It'd prove I'm better than Otouto-kun, yeah?

That's the kinda thing the fictional Rinne Amagi-kun would say.

ES always wants to play the poor victims being pushed around by that kinda selfish idol, huh? Gyahahahaha! ☆

Even if this plan backfires, ES can still escape responsibility. Maaan, I've gotta hand it to ES, still as shitty as ever ♪

Aira: Such a foul mouth... Yet you're the one telling off others... Isn't that why you're hated and forced into these harassment projects?

Rinne: I keep harping on the same thing over and over, but I'm totally fine being "that kinda character."

Aira: When you first debuted, you were more of a pure, orthodox idol... Why'd you change so much, Rinne-senpai?

Rinne: ......

[ ☆ ]

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[tellioari]

Q&A !! With @leafenzo/aka Leah and myself, Eliza

Leah: We don't hold ourselves to a strict schedule, I will say though we are a large chunk of the way done - all basic dyed blocks (like wool, concrete, banners, etc) are already in. We're just ironing out extra features related to the dyes. Also- before it releases we will have a public playtesting period for a tad if anyone reallyyy wants it early :3 (albeit in a quite unstable form). The plan is to release it for Fabric, and for 1.20.1 through 1.20.3 for now.

Leah: teehehe chunk-of-fun :3 jfsljfkslj Eliza: well, for the most part, the new bugs we are adding are things i just find interesting and have a good model idea for. i like making them very large, fitting into the large bug precedent set by the bees and silverfish :3 Right now the planned blorbos are the beetle, the wooly beetle, mantis, dragonfly, mint slug and silk moth! I've also made a seahorse model, but I don't think I'll end up using it in the dye mod. I might add more in the future if I'm feeling up to it.

Eliza: We have a lot of compatibility features in the works - including Suppementaries' Presents, every dyeable block in Create, Farmer's Delight's signs, and compatibility integration with Nature's Sprit as well. I've also thought about making dye compat with Another Furniture, but... that is a monumental task that I'd probably need help with/be able to streamline. We will also try and add compatibility textures to mods that autogenerate new dyed blocks - but that will have to be a case-by-case basis, and will be figured out during beta testing.

Eliza: I would love to make a tutorial at some point! - however, my process right now is very spur-of-the-moment and kinda random, haha. Maybe I'll make a post in the future if i'm feeling up to it. At the very least, I do follow some basic principles with designing my models:

Try to use clever techniques to minimize the amount of cubes used - this creates a confine that makes me get creative with what cubes i use while also optimizing the model at the same time.

Try to be as expressive as possible with cubes being used, no cube should be left untouched in the keyframes of animation.

Keep colors interesting by shifting hue a lot depending on lighting and what kind of material i want to convey (for example, if most of the model is smooth and green to blue, i'd go for green to yellow for the rougher parts)

Eliza: I would like to add some more storage blocks in the future, mainly stuff from new updates and any other random things I think of. I was thinking of making a create compatibility submod maybe, but because of the effort it takes to come up with textures its still just a thought. Leah: If by that you mean creating mods that add new features to squashed, or compatibility fixes, of course! and that goes for our other mods too! :D We'd seriously feel honored.

Leah: For me, the hardest part was just the frustration of it, frustration at the code, the tutorial, or far more often just at myself. Just know that it's the hardest at the beginning, but if you stick with you'll get your bearings and it will somehow start to get a bit easier. Also, datagen! It's useful as can be but gosh did that take me a while to figure out even just the basics of how to generate a model haha.

Thank you for all the questions!! We apologize if we didn't quite get to your question, there were a lot and we tried to pick the most general ones :3 If you still have a question that wasn't answered here, be sure to join and ask it on our discord!: https://discord.gg/eJePAPE27T

[swiftieinbrazil]

We need to talk about Brazil situation!

Guys, I've seeing a lot of people talking about things they really don't know or even worse, being xenophobic. I would like to explain to swifties around the world the whole situation.

Brazilian swifties love Taylor. We have a lot of passion for her. She visited Brazil only one time, in 2012. She performed 7 songs for a small group of fans. After 11 years she came back. Everybody was so excited. There were fans that couldn't buy the tickets because they were over. There are many other swifties like me that won't go to any of the 6 concerts. Because she has a lot of fans here.

Do you wanna a proof of our love for her? Christ The Reedemer is one of the 7 Wonders of the World. No other international artist was honored with projection on the statue before. Brazilian swifties put a LOT of effort to make it happen. Becauae we really like Taylor. Also, a lot of swifties participated in a fund rising connect with the Catholic church of Rio de Janeiro that is responsable for the Christ statue. And we raised a lot of money that will help many families.

Everything was right. Everybody was happy. Until what happened at the first concert. Brazil is going through atypical weather. Brazil is known for being a hot country but it have never been this hot like now. Brazil is being affected by a heat wave. Such hot temperatures weren't predictable, BUT there were human actions that made things get worse. People weren't allowed to bring a bottle of water to the stadium. If the fans wanted to drink water, they would have to buy it (and for expensive prices). Also, the stadium has vents and areas to have air circulating and they were closed, which made the stadium hotter inside. Absurd! A thousand fans fainted out at the first night due to the hot weather. And the worst thing happened, a beautiful and young girl died.

On the next day (Saturday), the fans could take water into the stadium and the vents were open, but the heat was worse. But the fans were still strong, waiting in the line (some of them since morning) under the sun and hot temperatures. The gates were open, people entered into the stadium. At the end of day, people received the news that the show was postponed to Monday. And some of them got mad at the moment. And I understand them. Because there are fans who travelled from far away, spent money at transporting, hotel and food, and some of them won't be able to go to Monday's concert because of their work, study and other reasons.

Let's make one thing very clear: we love Taylor and we know it's not her fault. She did the right thing when decided to postpone the concert. But a lot of fans were so tired of everything they were going through and showed their frustation with the whole situation. They said the postpone should have been made earlier. Also, there are rumors that Taylor wanted to do it earlier but the company didn't let her to.

An amount of bad situations led to all of this. So it's so unfair and insensitive of some people say that Brazilian swifties don't like Taylor, or that she should cancell all the Brazilian shows and leave the country (when people have bought their tickets, paid for transporting and hotel and planned every little thing months ago), or start being xenophobic with Brazilian fans. We're sad with all of this. We just wanted to spend a wonderful time with Taylor. It's not our fault. It's not Taylor's fault. We're all victims of this whole situation. So please, put yourself in other's people shoes.

[friendball-irl]

Inspiration

OOC:

A not-so-little positivity post, because I want to make one.

Y'know, I think the Pokemon IRL folks are some of the most talented artists and writers I've seen in my entire life.

The amount of heart, effort, and cooperation that I've seen go on in the community has been so fucking awe-inspiring.

The stories I've had the honor to bear witness to are the most entertaining and captivating works I've seen in the whole Pokemon community, period.

Hell, I've checked out the Pokemon AO3 page multiple times for a few years, and NOTHING on there comes close to the amount of detail, drama, and overall design that you all have somehow managed to put into these roleplaying posts.

From canon divergence, crossovers, to even full blown original characters, Pokemon, and plots, there's a little something for everyone on here.

And I mean it when I say that it's an inspiration, honestly.

You're all a bunch of artists at the end of the day with this, and I have gotten so much creative inspiration from interacting with you all.

I've made full blown songs just by growing attached to your characters, and I have more planned because of it!

I, along with others, have been inspired to craft brand new characters, put them in the same world as others, and emotionally impacted each other in the process!

And most of all, we've managed to create a welcoming and inclusive community where people have made really good friends, myself included!

I had just taken a step back and I'm just blown away by what we've made.

I've been around since the beginning, but honestly? I've had little parts to play in the grand scheme of things apart from inspiring a few blogs into existence, which I am still humbled and blown away by.

And in the end, I just want to say thank you.

Thank you for being so amazing.

Thank you for being inspirations.

And thank you for being a part of this community.

Thank you.

[gozine-translate]

Terminally-ill Genius Dark Knight - 148

148 - Mask [2]

'Not bad, huh?'

1.97 billion gold.

That was my total income from the Avilat Casino and Underground Auction House. It was an amount so large that I had to fill all ten of the spatial pouches I brought in advance, so honestly, I was a bit surprised.

Each pouch holds exactly 200 million gold, so excluding my equipment that worth 30 million gold and the knapsack, the rest was filled entirely with gold coins.

Suddenly it made me think that lots of dirty money flows through the casino and auction house. After all, nobles from various countries had come carrying heaps of gold, so it’s only natural.

But... my harvests didn't end there.

As if doing a charity, I handed over a little over 200 million gold, which I was troubled over how to dispose them since they couldn't fit into my spatial pouches, to Eleanor.

"Then, Eleanor. This settles my debt. I've even paid the interest, so check it."

"It's fine. You pay off the debt in just a few hours, If I behave that stingy, it will make Rivalin's merchant name cry. I'll send people to return the remaining amount later after we back"

"Do whatever you want."

Eleanor refused, waving her hand.

Well, it’s no loss for me, so it’s actually a good thing.

But, she didn’t lose out either.

Even in a tight situation, she makes sure to secure her share. should I say it is very merchant-like?

Indeed, the amount of 200 million is huge, it's only natural.

Others are currently digging through the ground, searching for gold coins.

The most active one is Leon, whose family finances have been unstable lately.

... and Talia.

In Talia's case, since she's still relying for Allowance on her father, Robert, it's probably even more so

Robert surprisingly has a proper sense of economics, even if it's for his beloved daughter, he doesn't just throw allowance excessively.

Instead, he sends her all sorts of gifts, from clothes to various exotic foods, through Emma.

Paracelsus, surprisingly, doesn’t seem greedy for money despite being a commoner. It seems he has something to rely on.

'That’s strange...'

Considering how much money that bastard lost at the casino, he should dig even bare ground.

Where does that relaxed attitude come from?

Unable to contain my curiosity, I asked.

"Hey, commoner, why aren’t you searching for gold coins with everyone else? If you’re going to talk about virtues as a knight, just drop it. From the beginning, you’re nothing like those who know such honor..."

But while Paracelsus looked at me pitifully like I was talking nonsense.

He is Shaking his head.

"My lord, think about it. We have decided to evenly distribute the remaining 20%, so why should I bother working hard for it?"

In simple terms, he’s saying he’ll just take his share once the others bring in the money. A ruffian befitting answer, just comparable to Nox

I was suddenly impressed and turned to look at Leon this time.

"Ah, please move that over here."

Using undead, he was persistently moving the surrounding gold coins.

Even Eleanor was shaking her head, seemingly fed up with it.

It was a scene worth seeing in many ways. Anyone who’s enjoyed Inner Lunatic would never have imagined this sight.

In the beginning, from Nox the villain was with them, it was already so, in addition, Paracelsus and Leon were initially in confrontational positions.

Is that all ?

Eleanor, the ‘Golden Fox’, and Talia weren’t on good terms either.

Thanks to my efforts in breaking dynamics of the original characters, their relationships have improved a bit.

If it wasn’t for me, Zitri would have already died.

I’m starting to realize just how significant the butterfly effect of my existence is.

'Especially considering the crazy demon has started preparing for human attacks, it can be said it’s even more so. Damn it'

Especially in Jagan's case. it was like that.

If it weren’t for my existence?

Jagan would never have prepared the cursed prison. He wouldn’t have shown the extreme of alchemy, nor would he have planned to bind us using a transmutation circle. But things have started to get complicated.

Unfortunately, It's a fact that I’m at the center of it all.

But what can I do?

I’m Nox, the villain, and I have to play this role.

Some might ask if I really need to be the villain, they can ask why I do such things, but..

At least for the main story to proceed correctly, to learn about the mysterious letter, my memories, and the truth related ...

You can say that I don't have a choice.

Anyway, for me to reach the end of story, in the end, my origin, in other words, I have to reveal where my starting point lies.

"huu..."

After sweeping up all the gold coins, I finally straightened my dented waist.

Soon, professors dispatched from the Academy will come to ask about what happened here. But since I've already coordinated with them, there shouldn't be any major issues.

I'll have to explain to my comrades why I'm subjugating a demon, but since I'd have to tell them eventually, it doesn't really matter.

Honestly, I don't know if they'll join my unit or stay in my circle. Especially with someone like Eleanor, who’s extremely calculative about her own benefits.

There's a good chance she won't trust me.

We're incompatible in the first place, and the only connection we have is money, so it can't be helped.

Well, anyway.

Setting aside stuff that gives me headaches, I started reviewing what I've gained and the new positives.

The first is my lifespan.

[Player's remaining lifespan is 272 days!]

'huuu... Thankfully, I've gained more than 150 days. If I keep this pace, things should a bit improve.'

Of course, my lifespan won't keep increasing.

If this damned [Terminal Illness] trait could be easily overcome, they wouldn’t have given the advantage of having two genius traits.

If anyone had already overcome it, they might have posted about it on the community forums.

But as far as I know, no one has fully conquered [Terminal Illness].

Although there are few discussions amongst users, the trait is so nasty that it’s hardly ever mentioned.

‘The people who tried to play with the "sickly" concept couldn’t even last two days had said it all'

I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

Next was the money.

‘I managed to stash away a lot of Imperial gold in this opportunity... No matter what kind of world comes, money is always right. That's an undeniable truth. Moreover, in Main Episode 3, the Rivalin family and merchant group arc, this will be a huge advantage.’

Main Episode 3 is a critical branching point where the Rivalin family decides whether to pledge loyalty to the Imperial family or side with the Dark family and Lunatic.

Here, the importance of capital can’t be overstated.

Although I have some funds secured from selling monster materials, it’s nowhere near enough. After all, the one I compete with these funds is first prince Louis

Truly an Imperial family

‘Anyway’

The last reward was the new swordsmanship I just learned.

‘The [Moonlight Sword]. Even if it’s just the beginner level, this is definitely the biggest gain. A sword that only be passed down to one person, and cannot be learned by ordinary route’

[Moonlight Sword]

I had been steadily building up to learn this from the beginning.

Learning the Southern Chaders swordsmanship, raising my stats, improving my proficiency level, those were that examples.

'From the beginning, I had planned to use the Dragon Language Scroll I got in here... Though I didn't expect to use it in such a dramatic way, well, it's still good'

The timing was perfect. At any rate, a good opportunity came at the critical moment, allowing me to learn the [Moonlight Sword] from Luna.

In the end, she even said that she acknowledged me as her disciple...

In fact, reaching the pinnacle of swordsmanship is now just a matter of time.

'Huuu... Even If think it myself, I’ve really been through a lot.'

Now that I have a moment to rest, suspicions start creeping in.

Why did Luna teach me the [Moonlight Sword]?

It was the worst critical moment

If it's Luna, the leader of a criminal organization. It should've been better if she abandoned someone like me

If we consider the value of the [Moonlight Sword] for her, it should've been better for her to just kill Jagan and abandon me.

But Luna didn’t do that.

I still don’t know the reason.

It’s been a long time since I realized how hollow it is to think you can fully understand someone’s heart. Everyone wears their own mask, hiding their feelings behind it.

‘Of course, there’s no need to overthink it. If someone helps me, I’ll repay the favor. The reverse is also the same. That's Nox von Reinhaver's way.’

As I calmly collected my thoughts and decided what stance to take next,

a voice suddenly broke through my thoughts.

"They’re coming."

Paracelsus said, pointing upwards.

After that, I sensed the footsteps of a few people quickly approaching

Even without seeing them, I knew who they were.

The faculty professors from Eldain Academy, assigned to clean up this mess.

Thud! Thud!

About ten professors leaped down from above, landing on the ruined Avilat grounds. Just from their formation alone, I knew they have a surprising level at a glance, which is a bit shocking

I guess this is what you’d expect from the knight order of a prestigious academy.

Each one of them was quite capable.

"Who’s that...?"

As Talia asked with a puzzled expression, Eleanor politely greeted while slightly lifting the hem of her skirts

"That's Professor Aleph von Dastein. He is one of the professors that lead the Academy's autonomous military and is a top graduate origin"

"You know me?"

"Of course. You’re very famous."

Eleanor didn’t flinch at Aleph’s stern tone.

Aleph von Dastein, the top graduate.

‘Naturally, I know him too.’

Aleph is a very important character.

As a man who became the core to the development of the later story, he had a deep connection to the main episode 3.

And he is a character that has ties with Eleanor as well.

That’s his identity.

Finally, Talia too seemed to remember as she clapped her hands.

"Oh...!! Perhaps you are the one who wrote all three volumes of Introduction to Elemental Studies...!!"

Despite his astonished student, Aleph remained unfazed.

He held a thick book in one hand, and his habit of carrying a book around everywhere made quite an impression.

Even in a fantasy game, this is a bit too much of a concept.

‘Not to mention, Leon fights with his own book too...’

I glanced at Leon, who tilted his head, looking at me.

I quickly returned my gaze forward.

Professor Aleph closed the book he had been reading.

For reference, the book was the third volume of Introduction to Elemental Studies, which he wrote himself and became a bestseller.

He spoke confidently.

"That's right. I’m Professor Aleph, the bestselling author who’s captured the public's attention. I’ll give you an autograph later, but first, I want to hear what happened here. Who’s the leader of this team?"

I stepped forward and said.

"Nox von Reinhaver."

"Explain the situation you're facing now and how it became without leaving anything out"

'How annoying...'

His overbearing tone made me unpleasant, but I still gave him a brief explanation of what had happened here.

Anyway, I told him that my comrades and I only managed to fend off the Chimera.

As for the demon, I said it was taken care of by a mysterious woman, in other words, Luna.

This alone is enough to showcase our achievement to the Academy.

There's no need to go forward any further.

‘Making more enemies is a lot riskier than you might think.’

That’s something I’ve recently come to realize.

After listening to the whole story, Professor Aleph stroked his chin in thought and then said.

"I see. I have an idea who that woman might be."

"Is that so ?"

"It's fine for students like you all to not know her identity"

He added that she’s a very dangerous person and advised us not to be concerned

Of course, I just let his words go in one ear and out the other.

'You know I need to meet with Luna regularly to learn swordsmanship ?. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to master the [Moonlight Sword]?'

I half-listened to what he was saying while distracted by something else.

How should I spend the money I got here after we get back?

How should I spend it to make sure people will rumors that I spent it well?

"...Then, I believe the Headmaster will separately reward you all for completing such a dangerous mission. Make sure to feel grateful"

"Understood."

I answered promptly, It was like a kind of reflex action.

For a gamer, the word "reward" is irresistible.

It was an instinctual response.

By the way, Noah von Trinity...

Honestly, I’m scared to meet her, but she's a woman who has a lot.

‘I wonder what she'll give me this time..’

I suddenly felt a sense of anticipation and jingled my heavy spatial pouch. The soft clink of gold coins echoed quietly, barely noticeable to anyone else.

[herotome]

Devlog #123

Hi-ho, Wudge here.

So... it's out! If you somehow haven't heard despite my modest-yet-incessant marketing efforts, Herotome's Super Demo is now out on itch.io!

People seem to really enjoy the game. My notifications are blowing up. Everything seems to be going really well - it's all coming up Wudge, one might say!

Which means it's time to talk about 𝓜𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓘𝓵𝓵𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼.~

Y'all weren't expecting that one, were ya? Boom, baby! Haha!!!

So, let me know if this sounds familiar: I spend most of my waking moments worrying that something bad is going to happen. I'm perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. (Thank you to @hummingbird-games for reminding me that idiom exists, and taking it in good humor when I excitedly babbled that "YES! It's like there's this giant centipede with shoes in my ceiling and I'm convinced I hear him walking around and someday, someday he's gonna throw all his shoes at me like that one guy did to George Bush--!"

...I'm worried that someone is going to find a reason to be rightfully angry with me. I'm worried that, through the mortifying ordeal of being known, I will be punished with the harrowing gauntlet of rejection and misery. I worry that, any day now, I'm going to get a random half-thought-out message that obliterates my heart into smithereens and kills me on the spot. I am a sea slug, cautiously edging a tendril into the light and praying not to be noticed by the eldritch fish above that will devour me in a single gulp.

I find myself flinching even when there isn't a blow coming.

Putting out a piece of yourself for the public to consume is really fucking terrifying. I did it anyway, which is cool of me, but I want to make it known that there is not eternal bliss and satisfaction and rose petals on the other side. Is this better than my cave of solitude and darkness I emerged from? I think so. But I'm still perpetually scared, as Toby Fox might once have described it, "like a small dog startled by a thunder storm."

I'm still really tired, too.

I don't write this to complain; I'm conscious that some people are now looking up to me and the way I do things, and I want to be transparent. I don't want anyone to think I'm perfect or have always been perfect and will always be perfect, or that I've ~found happiness~.

I'm not. I have never been. I will never be. I haven't.

But I'm okay, at least. I'm okay and I'll be okay, and I'm grateful to you all. Every single one of you. Thank you for not submitting me to the harrowing gauntlet of rejection and misery…yet.  :^)

Alright what's the takeaway here. Uhm.

Be yourself! Follow your dreams! Never give up!!!

That's sincerely what I'm trying to do. It's a challenge every single day; I have to choose Herotome every single day (something something married to my own game blah blah blah). It is worth it. And I believe in you - assuming you're not a cannibal or a murder or, worst of all, a plagiarist (gasp!) or anything else terrible and bad - I believe in you. (… But honestly, I'd believe in you if you were a bad person too, I'd believe in you to continue to do bad things but I'd hope that you'll stop and turn yourself in to the proper authorities lmao…)

… I went on a weird tangent again…

I don’t know if any of this is making sense. Maybe it will be insightful to someone out there, maybe it won't.

I uh, did some writing for the next part of the game, and I plan on working on some character expressions today in honor of my Ko-Fi donators.

Oh, and there's gonna be a stream on Wednesday 10pm Pacific. I'll be there! Come say hi and please don't squish me!

… Yeah that's all I can think of writing for now. I absolutely wish you all the best with every speck of love I have in my current flesh prison.

Tata for now. Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

If Jungkook and Chaeri were song quotes

If by Chance - Ruth B

1:01 ──⚬──── 5:03 ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

I can't believe it's been all these years I can't believe I've cried all these tears My friends tell me I should've moved on A long, long time ago But what do they know? Mm, what do they know?

And I don't mean to be selfish But my heart breaks every time That I see you smile 'Cause I know that it's not me Who brings it out of you anymore

You found somebody new You put me in the past I don't even know if our memories will last But If By Chance it doesn't work out with him You'll always have a chance with me in my world

Do you talk about the future the way we did? Is there room for me in it?

Is it so wrong of me to hope he breaks your heart? Is it so wrong of me to pray he tears you apart? And I know that in the darkest part of you You pray and hope and wish for it too

'Cause you don't mean to be selfish But your heart breaks every time That you see me smile 'Cause you know that it's not you Who brings it out of me anymore

❒ genre: Angst ❒ words: 836 ❒ summary: Snippets of Jungkook's perspective on the relationship between Hongjoong and Chaeri

August, 2022 + May 2018

Bam leapt from the couch, his ears erect and tail wagging as he tried to stand on two feet and reach the level of the TV fixed to the wall.

Jungkook sighed and shut off the television, instantly halting the enthusiasm of his loyal companion who had been entranced by the girl's face displayed in the broadcaster's frame.

It was his day off. He had awoken late, cooked and eaten pork belly, played online video games with Taehyung, and then decided to relax on the sofa listening to music before 'ATEEZ(에이티즈) - 'Guerrilla' Official MV Making Film' appeared in his YouTube home among the suggestions. The cover showed Chaeri's face rather than that of any of the group members; which Jungkook saw as a desperate ploy by that record company to get views.

Or maybe it was just his jealousy speaking.

“Come on Bamie, let's not miss her. Okay?”

He walked up to Bam, carefully sidestepping the toys that were strewn about the floor.

He raised his head and caressed the back of his scalp in an effort to console him for cutting their viewing time short. But it was really himself he was trying to calm down. The truth was, Jungkook couldn't bear to see Chaeri on his screen, especially not with someone else.

As Bam's warmth spread against his feet, time seemed to stand still, and Jungkook found himself transported back to a moment of shared dreams. He let out a deep breath allowing himself to sink into the memory.

The room was dimly lit, steam floated in the air from the hot, bubbling water of the bathtub, and Chaeri and Jungkook sat across from each other, their legs intertwined as they enjoyed its warmth.

The soft sound of cascading water echoed throughout the room, creating a calming atmosphere for their hushed words as Jungkook lightly ran his fingertips along the edge of the tub

"Come closer"

"I still smell like puppies"

Buzzfeed had given them the honor of playing with doggies throughout the interview. They were adorable, but their pungent smell had lingered on the skin and clothes of all of them.

“What makes you think that I care?” Jungkook asked, his voice tinged with playfulness as he grabbed Chaeri's ankle and tugged her closer.

Chaeri’s open smile and bright eyes twinkle with amusement as she edges to Jungkook. Her hand reaches up to delicately remove a stray lock of his hair, her fingertips grazing his forehead in a gentle caress.

"You know, someday I might get used to this smell" Jungkook moved his face to meet Chaeri's arm and leave a trail of kisses along it, reaching her shoulder "Someday we might have one of our own"

"A puppy?"

"Mhmh" he nodded, not taking his lips off the girl's smooth skin "A little home just for us, and a little dog just for us"

"That sounds..it sounds like a beautiful plan to me"

Chaeri and Jungkook rarely talked about what the future held, preferring to live day-by-day rather than worrying over what was ahead. Yet when Jungkook did bring up topics of planning for the years ahead, she felt a sense of joy and amazement. Her wet fingers ran across his still-maturing face; his cheeks were still youthful and soft, but she could see he was slowly becoming a man. He was becoming an adult before her eyes, both of them growing together. 

That moment could have been interpreted as either serious talk between two partners or the lovey-dovey banter of young lovers - perhaps it was a little bit of both.

"Actually, can't wait for it to happen" Chaeri added and leaned in closer, her lips invitingly close to his.

Jungkook looked into the depths of Chaeri's eyes and felt a wave of emotions wash over him; it was an overwhelming sensation that he had grown used to.

He pulled back his face just enough to avoid being kissed, a slight smirk on his lips "I'm gonna decide the name"

Chaeri dramatically rolled her eyes in response to his comment, trying to tease him "If you insist" she said

Jungkook was a blur as he lunged at her lips, his eyes a burning, molten gold. The water around them erupted in a wave of spray and foam as the two collided. The entire bathroom was alight with water droplets as the couple kissed, the overflow spilling onto the floor.

The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder about Chaeri and Hongjoong's relationship. Did they talk about the future the way they used to?

He knew it was wrong, but he wished that she had never discussed her future plans with that other man.

Jungkook could hear Bam barking, trying to distract him from his feelings. "You're such a good boy, aren't you?" Bam wagged his tail, his eyes full of love and loyalty. He sighed and ran his fingers through Bam's fur "You won't ever leave me. Will you?"

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @ycuvi