#I will contain myself as much as possible but by god is it difficult

[spro-o]

good evening house md fandom 🍷

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

!!! This chapter contains dialogue in High Valyrian, which will be designated by bold and italics...enjoy :)

A week had slipped away since Jaenara and her family had settled into King’s Landing. She found herself passing time by discussing plans for the upcoming coronation with her mother or entertaining little Aegon and Viserys. Occasionally, she rode out on dragonback with Baela and Rhaena, savoring the freedom of the skies above. When she was up amongst the clouds, the princess forgot all about what her life had become down below. Sitting atop Aetherion, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Yet above all, Jaenara found herself occupied with a careful dance of avoidance whenever Aemond Targaryen crossed her path. She had escaped several close calls, ducking into unoccupied rooms whenever she saw the prince at the other side of a hallway. Jaenara had often wondered to herself if she could continue to keep up this game of cat and mouse well into their marriage, but the prospect of having to constantly hide from the man who was to be her husband did sadden her. Ever so slightly. 

Currently, the princess found herself in the castle gardens walking shoulder to shoulder with Helaena. Jaenara had not had as much alone time with her aunt as she would have liked, and was eager to reconnect with the one member of the Targaryen-Hightowers she could actually stand to be around. Helaena seemed to be pleased with the company, though it was difficult for Jaenara to tell at times. Her aunt had always been a somewhat emotionally distant person, even when they were children.

“My mother tells me that the planning for Rhaenyra’s coronation is almost finished?” Helaena inquires.

Jaenara and Jacaerys had both been closely involved with the planning of their mother’s name day ceremony. The preparations had proven to be stressful, even now plaguing the princess’ mind. Temporary discomfort is a small price to pay for mother to sit the Iron Throne - Jaenara had told herself. Though, she could not say she felt the same way about the looming, permanent discomfort she would soon find herself in…

Rhaenyra had even tried to include Aegon in the ceremony planning as well. An offering for the position he had given up for his older sister. Though he had seemed less than interested, opting to disappear for hours at a time instead. Even now, Jaenara wondered where her uncle often took off to, leaving her sweet aunt and their children alone. She questioned if she would be condemned to such a fate as well - Aemond fluttering about doing gods know what while she was left to care for their babes alone. The princess decides it is best not to mull over such depressing possibilities that she may soon enough find herself in.

“Yes, her name day will be here before we know it - just a short week away. Though I find myself anxious about the festivities.” Jaenara finally responds. 

“I understand,” Helena breathes, “I am not one for crowds either.”

“Well then we must stick together until the whole ordeal is over.” Jaenara reassures her aunt. And herself.

“I would gladly,” Helaena giggles, “Though when your wedding day arrives, my brother will stand at your side, not I."

Jaenara sighed - another formality she had been dreading heavily. She’d venture to guess that the moment her mother’s name day passes, planning for the wedding will begin immediately. The princess knew that her scarcity of interactions with Aemond would not last for much longer. Not if either of their mothers could help it. 

Jaenara felt she had little to discuss with her betrothed. What else was there to say?

Helaena came to a halt, bending down to pick up a large, green beetle. Jaenara winced - she had never been one for bugs, save for the pretty butterflies she had often chased with her aunt in their youth. She watched as the beetle began to travel up Helaena’s arm. Jaenara found that Helaena looked serene, her blonde-white hair picked up by the breeze and a content smile on her lips. The princess decides to take advantage of the peaceful moment to ask her aunt a troubled question.

“What is it like? Being married, that is.” Jaenara’s face grows serious.

Helaena removes the beetle from her forearm with a gentle touch and places it on a leaf below.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” She says, though her aunt does not sound particularly bothered by the dreary thought, “Aegon does not pay me much mind. Save for the times we have…done our duty.”

Jaenara clears her throat awkwardly.

“So, I suppose it is not so bad. I am free to do as I please. As he is. Though I think Aemond will make a better lover.” Helaena finishes. Jaenara looks at her aunt as if she has three heads and scoffs. She looks back at the princess with a coy look on her face.

“What a terrifying thought.” Jaenara sounds defeated as the two women resume their walk. A calm silence passes over them once again, as does the gentle breeze.  

Helaena looks as though someone is speaking to her and finds herself gazing up at the sky for a moment - and then to her niece.

She smiles, as if the clouds have told her a secret.

— — —

On the far side of the Red Keep, The One Eyed Prince begins to lay the groundwork of his plan to put his soon-to-be wife on the Iron Throne. Aemond has decided he must get in the good graces of his family - especially Jacaerys - if he is to carry out familicide without raising any suspicion that he had a hand in it. Something easier said than done, Aemond knows. Any amount of decency he could afford the heir and his brother would be met with scrutiny. A few kind words will not undo years of victimization dealt on both sides. 

Aemond clenches his jaw as he searches for his nephews throughout the grounds of the Red Keep. Locating them had proven to be challenging, though not as much as finding their sister. Aemond knew that Jaenara had been purposefully avoiding him. One evening, he had even caught sight of her ducking into her mother’s chambers when he had turned a corner, entering the same hallway as her. Her elusion frustrated the prince. If he could not speak to the princess and build up a rapport with her, then she would assuredly be the first to point her finger at him when news of Jace’s murder came about.  

Just when Aemond is about to give up entirely, he spots Jacaerys and Lucerys in the training yard, wooden swords in hand. Aemond lurks back for a moment, watching them practice their drills. Their moves are quick and calculated, proving that his nephews had become even more skilled fighters during their time away from the Red Keep. Though their moves had a certain unrefined quality to them. Aemond finally moves from his spot, drawing nearer to the princes. Lucerys spots him first and mumbles a curse under his breath, as hid older brother turns to meet Aemond’s eyes. Aemond smirks at the boys, and he can tell it takes all of Jace’s strength not to throw down his play sword and saunter off. 

The prince stands tall over his nephews, to hide the uneasiness he feels about approaching them. He’s pulled his long, sleek hair into a bun. His own sword, a practice blade worn smooth from countless hours of swinging, hung loose at his side

The air is tense around the group and a short silence hangs over them. Clanking of wood and metal and grunts fills the yard as the princes all stare at each other.

Aemond finally clears his throat and breaks the quiet.

"You're both too cautious," he remarks in a voice that carries authority but also a hint of patience. "Don't overthink your strikes. Let them flow naturally. It's about instinct as much as it is about technique."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You must think of us as fools, uncle. Why would we listen to you? You do not practice the habit of fighting honorably - Luke and I’ve both seen that.”

And what would you know about fighting honorably? Aemond remarks to himself.

Where is the honor in gouging out a boy’s eye? 

He inhales a deep breath to calm his rising frustration.

Lucerys, ever the more reserved of the two, held his ground but watched Aemond with a cautious curiosity.

Aemond knows he should not make the jest, but before he can stop himself, the words fall from his smug mouth.

“Fools? No - I only see two Strong boys before me.” 

Both of the brother’s harden their gaze. This time, Jacaerys does take off, with Luke trailing behind.

Fuck.

“But!” Aemond is quick to add to his lecture, desperate to keep the boys where they are, “Honor in battle is not always as straightforward as the songs would have it. There are times when survival demands unconventional measures.”

“And how,” Jace has stopped and turned to face his uncle once more, “would you know anything of a real battle?”

“You forget I train with Ser Criston Cole.” “You forget we trained with Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond chooses to bite back another remark about how - despite training with one of the realm’s most formidable soldiers, the brother’s still lacked the necessary knowledge and skills.

Instead, he walks back towards their place in the yard and motions for the Velaryons to follow him. Jace stares at him a moment, lets out an exaggerated huff and mutters, “Come on, Luke.”

At their return, Aemond demonstrates a quick feint, his movements precise. “You’re signaling your intent with your movements, Jacaerys. And Lucerys, you hesitate before every strike. Be bold, but calculated. Like this," he continued, demonstrating a fluid series of strikes and blocks. Luke, with a touch of reservation, takes up a fighting stance in front of his older brother.

Aemond nodded approvingly. "Let's try it again. And this time, don't hold back."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Aemond guided them through drills and techniques, offering pointers in between bouts. Slowly, the initial wariness between the boys and the Targaryen prince faded, replaced by a grudging respect for his skill and knowledge.

When the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, the three young heirs sheathed their swords. Aemond found a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. He did not find any joy in the times he sparred with Aegon, which had been few and far between lately. His brother had no real interest in learning and bettering his skills. And Criston Cole was becoming predictable - through no fault of his own. Aemond simply had no one else to spar with that was anywhere near his level. He found unexpected fulfillment in teaching his nephews.

Jace finally deposits his wooden sword with the others in the training yard, Luke following suit. 

With a huff and an expression that makes the prince seem physically pained he tells his uncle, “Well. That was rather…I did not think I’d ever see the day where you would give us any kind of genuine advice. Nevertheless, I am…grateful for your counsel uncle.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Aemond.” Lucerys adds curtly.

Aemond gives them a nod as acknowledgment.

Naive fools.

With that, Jace and Luke begin their journey back into the Red Keep. Aemond watches the boys stride away side by side. He almost resigns himself to turning in for the day, when a thought suddenly enters his mind. 

“Do you know where I might find your sister?” He calls after them. 

Jace remains silent continuing his walk. Aemond rolls his eyes.

She has sworn them to secrecy.

Lucerys seems to take some sort of pity on his uncle after their shared afternoon - much to the dismay of Jace, “I think she spoke of spending time in the gardens…” the younger brother’s sentence trails off when he sees the look Jacaerys gives him. 

Aemond nods gratefully, though no one sees it, and sets off towards the gardens, his mind already racing. He knew spending time with Jaenara was another crucial part of his plan he needed to begin sowing the seeds for. As much as she may detest it.

The believed that if he could convincingly pretend to be infatuated with his niece, to the extent that she truly believed his feelings were genuine, it might help divert suspicion away from him regarding her brother’s eventual murder. She may even come to defend him, when the time comes. Though this would prove to be a challenge.

“You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love” Aemond’s own words from her first evening back at King’s Landing echoed in his mind.

Aemond lets out a frustrated groan and picks up his pace.

When he reaches the gardens, Aemond finds Jaenara and his sister seated on a weathered stone bench in deep discourse, while their ladies-in-waiting linger nearby, amusing themselves.

The distant laughter of the two maidens surprises Aemond and stirs a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed so freely. It was then, he realized, he had never heard Jaenara genuinely laugh. Everything she let out in his presence was nothing more that a scoff or dry laugh. This, he thought, was a nice change of pace. Happiness suited her.

I should leave them. Aemond’s resolve falters for a moment, and he pivots for a swift and silent retreat. Yet, his sister catches sight of him before he can vanish.

"Aemond!" Helaena's voice rings out, compelling him to sigh and reluctantly turn back to face them.

Helaena's eyes glint with mischief as she waves a hand, beckoning him over. Meanwhile, the fleeting smile on Jaenara's face vanishes, replaced by an indifferent gaze.

"Aemond," his sister greets again, her tone laced with curiosity. "Where have you been?"

"Just sparring with your brothers," Aemond replies, his gaze drifting towards Jaenara.

The surprise in Jaenara's eyes is evident and impossible to conceal.

"With Jace and Luke?" she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You seem…unscathed. I trust the same can be said for my brothers?"

"It was just a training session - nothing if not civil. I only meant to give them a bit of advice," Aemond responds, a smirk playing upon his lips.

Helaena suddenly springs to her feet. "I don’t believe you two have had many opportunities to speak as of late. I will leave you to catch up" she suggests, a faraway look on her face. "I must attend to the children." Her lady-in-waiting follows closely behind as she departs.

Jaenara starts to rise, offering to assist, but Helaena insists she stay. Aemond can't help but conceal his amusement at Jaenara’s desperate state.

The princess exhales sharply and resumes her promenade through the gardens, without so much as a glance over her shoulder at Aemond. With a huff, he follows behind her, as her lady-in-waiting mirrors.

The prince wishes he could dismiss the attendant, wishing for a moment alone with Jaenara to speak without restraint. 

He thinks of another solution.

Aemond peers down at his niece and lets High Valyrian fall freely from his lips.

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Jaenara does not remove her eyes from the path in front of her.

“You have not sought me out.” She retorts, her tone cool and collected. Aemond lights up. He had not expected his niece to be fluent in their mother tongue, and hearing her voice enunciate the ancient words caused something unknown inside of him to stir. 

“I am now,” he replies evenly, “ And I have to say, I had not expected you to be so fluent in Valyrian. Not even my brother speaks it so well. That idiot can barely piece together a single sentence.” 

Jaenara laughs, “I am a Targaryen. Every Targaryen should speak their language. Understand their history.”

Aemond nods, “Something we can agree on, niece. Though I have to say, you speak it better than I thought a-”

“Then a bastard would?” Her words are laced with a bittersweet acknowledgment that catches Aemond off guard. His niece had never spoken the truth of her parentage in front of him - or anyone for that matter. In truth, Aemond found him unsettled from her acquiescence. Though he understood the only reason she dared to acknowledge the truth now, is because no one around them had a clue what she was saying. 

“You’re not laughing, uncle. Very unlike you - you who never passes up an opportunity to remind me of my blood.” Jaenara still seemed unfazed, her attention drifting to a cluster of blue irises at their feet. She bends gracefully to touch the silky petals, and Aemond finds himself captivated by the way her dark hair spills like a cascade of black silk over the blossoms. He clears his throat.

“You are to be my…ābrazȳrys (wife). I no longer wish to humiliate you over things out of your control, such as your parentage.” Aemond’s voice is steady and controlled, betraying his inner turmoil over making such remarks.

Jaenara lets out a laugh, though it sounds hollow. Much unlike the laughter she had shared with his sister. Her lady-in-waiting shifts uncomfortably behind them. “Actions speak louder than words, Aemond.” The princess rises from her spot amongst the flowers, turning to face her betrothed.

Aemond is filled with a stubborn determination at hearing her challenge, and takes a few steps towards her - until he can feel his niece’s breath fan over him. He stares down at her, and finds that he enjoys how she does not shrink under his gaze.

“Pār nyke jāhor gaomagon.” - Then I will act.

Jaenara laughs again, but it is quickly put to an end.

“I do not know why you laugh, Jaenara. I am being sincere.” His gaze is hard. 

She considers his words for a moment, and turns back to the garden path. The princess returns to the common tongue. 

"Come along, it is growing darker," Jaenara says, her voice carrying a hint of finality as she resumes their journey along the garden path. Aemond follows silently, his mind still processing the weight of their conversation. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the estate grounds, while a cool evening breeze stirs the leaves of ancient trees. When the couple finally reach the stone archways and paths of the Red Keep, Aemond speaks up once more. 

“You will have breakfast with me. Tomorrow” It is not a question, though his tone remains soft..

“I will?” Jaenara asks, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

“This is me taking action.” He offers her a wry smile.

Jaenara exhales and looks to her handmaiden, who skillfully avoids her gaze. “Fine. I will see you in the morning” She stomps off to her chambers, lady-in-waiting trailing behind. The princess does not get to see the small, honest smile that settles on Aemond’s lips. 

— — —

Early the next morning, Jaenara awakes to a polite knock on her chamber door. Alora, her lady-in-waiting, entered cautiously, offering a sheepish greeting. "Good morning, Your Grace."

The princess rubbed her eyes wearily and yawned. "Good morning, Alora. And please, call me Jaenara when it is just us. No need for formality in the privacy of these chambers." she replied with a tired attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Yes, my lady—I mean, Jaenara," Alora stumbled over her words, feeling conflicted over addressing a princess so casually. "Um... Aemond - the prince - sent me to assist you with dressing. He wishes to have breakfast with you?" She sounds uncertain.

Jaenara sighed lightly and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. Let's not keep him waiting," she said, giving Alora a reassuring glance.

Alora deftly combs out Jaenara's long, ebony hair, swiftly braiding half of it and letting the rest fall down her back. As the princess gradually awakened, she engaged in light conversation with the younger girl, easing her nerves. 

With gentle assistance, Alora helped Jaenara into a splendid dress—its upper half a deep shade of black, its lower half a rich crimson. The sleeves were wrought with golden embroidery. Once satisfied with her handiwork, Alora guided Jaenara to the dining room, where Aemond awaited their arrival.

“Thank you, Alora. I think that will be all for now.” The princess smiles at her lady, dismissing her. Jaenara hesitantly pulls out a chair across from Aemond.

“Good morning.” She offers. An honest attempt at niceties. 

Aemond hums, sounding pleased. “Good morning.”

It remains quiet for a while, as the two begin to serve themselves and take a few bites of the breakfast that has been prepared. The prince steals glances at his niece, observing how her dark curls frame her face. Watching her spoon her food gracefully. Noting how her dress clings to her.

At last, Aemond ventured to break the quiet. “That dress suits you well.”

The princess pauses her cutting of a sausage. Jaenara had not expected to hear that kind of comment so early in the morning. And no less from Aemond of all people. She narrows her eyes at him.

“What?” She asks, as if offended.

Aemond pauses, mid-bite. “I only meant it as a compliment. The Targaryen colors agree with you.” 

Jaenara continues with her meal, deciding that pretending as though she had not heard her uncle was the best course of action.

Why did he say that? Does he mean to mock me?

The prince breaks the silence once more, wanting to change the subject. "I hear your mother's name day preparations have been finalized."

Jaenara swallows a mouthful of food and clears her throat. “Um…yes. I believe so. Everything should be in place by now. The ceremony will be in…five days? I believe.”

"My mother seems unusually eager for the occasion," Aemond remarked. "She and Rhaenyra have been quite chatty lately."

“You’ve noticed too?”

“It is hard not to.” Aemond admitted.

Jaenara shrugs, “True enough. Well, they seem happier anyway.”

Aemond only hums in agreement. “My mother, although…she seems to be even more excited about the wedding than the coronation ceremony.”

Jaenara sputtered on the ale served alongside their meal.

A smug grin spread across the prince's face.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can. 

“Oh yes,” Aemond sounds amused, “I hear her and Rhaenyra have taken to planning a few things.”

"What!?" Now Jaenara could not hide her surprise. Her outburst drew the attention of nearby servants, and Aemond grinned at her fluttering.

“Um - I only meant. I had not known they were already planning the ceremony.” She finished, dabbing a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

“Well someone has to. We certainly have not spoken about it.” Aemond remarks.

Jaenara almost feels guilty. She searches Aemond’s eyes for any indication of regret or sadness over their lack of time together. 

“Well then…what would you like to discuss about it?” The princess makes an attempt to turn to the matter.

Aemond considers the question. “What kind of cake would you like?”

Jaenara lets out a true laugh at that, catching Aemond off guard.

“If I must tell you,” She says while catching her breath, “I am fond of lemon pastries.”

Aemond makes a noise of agreement. He recalls that her mother favors the sweets as well. “Then we shall have them.”

Jaenara looks up from her meal and the couple lock eyes. She stares intently into his, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. 

What are you doing, uncle? She is left to wonder. Jaenara feels a crack begin to form in the walls she had put up to keep Aemond out. But the fracture is filled as quickly as it appears when she considers that Aemond is simply playing his part. Putting up a charade. The princess looks at the man before her, and can only seem to remember the cruelties that he has dealt. Her heart hardens.

"Why do you care?" she questioned, her tone accusatory. Despite their heartfelt conversation in the garden the day before, Jaenara only continued in her struggle to believe in her uncle's sincerity.

“Because I want to care.” Aemond is taken aback, though he makes an effort to sound earnest.

The princess scoffs and takes a swig of ale. She rises to her feet.

“I am full.” she declares, signaling an end to the meal and perhaps to their conversation. Jaenara stands and walks the length of the table, drawing near to the door but coming close to Aemond.

That strikes a chord within the prince, “You are about as stubborn as a damn mule,” he mutters under his breath.

The retort is not lost upon the princess’ ears. Jaenara spun around abruptly, facing her uncle where he was currently still seated. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Damn it," Aemond whispered to himself, closing his eyes briefly. 

“And here I thought you were being truthful yesterday when you said you no longer meant to belittle me.” She bites.

Some unseen force compelled Aemond onward. He reached out and gently but firmly grasped his niece's wrist.

"I only meant..." He struggled to find the right words. "Gods, you're infuriating."

Jaenara felt a stirring within her at his touch, but she pushed the sensation aside, focusing instead on his words. "I’m infuriating?" 

Now, Aemond raises his voice. “Yes! Infuriating. I am making a sincere effort to get to know you, and I am met with nothing but resistance. There is nothing we can do to change the marriage we will soon find ourselves in,” He rises from his chair, hand still gripped around Jaenara, “but I am making a sincere attempt to make it more bearable. For you.”

A part of Aemond understood that his words were primarily to uphold a facade, to maintain the illusion of feigned interest in his niece. Yet another part of him recognized sincerity in his sentiments. He couldn't help but feel pity for Jaenara. This thought had crossed his mind repeatedly—in the quiet of his chambers, in the stillness of the night, and even yesterday as he watched her depart from the estate gardens. She had undoubtedly drawn the short straw amidst their betrothal.

Jaenara Velaryon was being forced to marry Aemond, a scarred and flawed second son by his own reckoning. While Aemond had initially perceived the proposal of marriage to his own bastard niece as an insult, he couldn't deny the faint attraction he harbored towards her— a sentiment he was certain she did not reciprocate. 

The princess regarded her uncle with a peculiar mix of curiosity and contemplation, allowing his words to sink in. Jaenara's relationship with her uncle had always been incredibly strained — tense. Yet, as she observed the furrow in his brow and the genuine anguish in his eyes, she sensed a truth in his earnest plea. She reflected on her initial hopes—that they might spend their lives avoiding each other, barely exchanging words. Yet, standing before him now, she reconsidered. If Aemond—of all people—could muster some semblance of kindness, however feigned, Jaenara resolved she could reciprocate. Even if it was nothing but a lie. 

For in the convoluted dance of courtly alliances and familial expectations, sometimes even the semblance of civility could hold more weight than honesty in securing fragile peace.

With hesitant resolve, she reached out, gently clasping his hand in hers. Aemond feels goosebumps form on his skin from the additional contact. 

"Aemond," she began quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. He makes an effort to memorize how his name sounds on her lips.

Gods be damned, he thought. 

"I apologize. I hadn't fully appreciated your efforts. You are right. For this marriage to have any chance of contentment and peace, we must find common ground. We must make an effort to get to know each other."

The princess finished her apology, her words hanging in the air between them. All Aemond could manage in response was a silent nod, fearing that his mouth would betray him if he were to open it.

Jaenara withdrew her hand from his with a slight hesitation. "Well…I should be going. I intend to meet with my mother to discuss our impending wedding. There is much to plan," she added, her voice faltering slightly as she hurried out of the room.

Aemond stood there, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the hand that had briefly held his niece's, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling within him.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is structured a little differently! I decided to make these changes for narrative purposes/so everything flows better. Because of this, I will be revising the previous two chapters, so the next chapter may take a little longer to come out (I also have a job interview coming up, so I will be doing a lot more than just brainstorming and writing now T-T) Anyways! As always, thank you for reading :)

Tags: @toodlesxcuddles

[fireflyinks]

karaoke and cowboy hats

colt seavers x costume designer/manager!reader

there will be multiple parts, this is part one !!

a/n : so so so much fun to write, and probably one of my longest and favorite fics i’ve ever written. i love colt and ryan gosling, and tried to add as many easter eggs from “the fall guy” as possible

summary : colt always seems to be misplacing his costumes pieces, which has him constantly coming back to the costume manager and designer, y/n. the two decide to hang out for once outside of set.

contains: this is just purely fluff and good vibes, no smut, cursing, “will they, won’t they”, part two will have more romance dw

word count : 3.7k

Working with Tom Ryder was one of the most difficult tasks one could be assigned. He was arrogant, narcissistic, and overall just a complete asshole. I had the misfortune of being the costume designer and manager for the up and coming film “Metalstorm”, and Jody, the director, insisted on the most cliché cowboy get ups imaginable, plus a gold metallic touch. Having worked with Ryder many times previously, I knew he would hate this. I had prepared myself for one of his meltdowns long before it actually happened, but it still somehow caught me off guard.

“What the fuck is this?” He stormed into the costume tent, causing me to jump up from my seat in panic.

“Ryder... Jody insisted you wear this.”

Ryder looked down at his attire in utter disgust. “Don’t try to blame anybody but yourself. This is your fault. Are you trying to embarrass me? Do you have some personal vendetta? I’ve never even worked with you before!”

It stung that he didn’t even recognize me from our previous jobs together, but I tried to ignore it. Looking at Ryder’s get-up, he didn’t even look half bad. The gold metallic suit went great with his complexion, and the cowboy hat added a charming touch. But he wasn’t having any of it.

“You have to wear it. It’s not an option. This is your costume.” I tried to act brave, as if his harsh voice didn’t effect me one bit.

“You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m going to be caught dead wearing this. Say goodbye to your job, nobody speaks to me like that. I’m Tom god-damned Ryder.”

The tent’s entrance opened, revealing a very angry Colt.

Colt and I were sort of close, as close as most coworkers get. I didn’t think we’d never hang out outside of set, but I considered him sort of an ally. When he wasn’t performing a dangerous stunt, he’d talk to me about whatever was on his mind and listen to me ramble on and on.

“Just leave her alone, Ryder. She’s not here for you to bitch at.”

It would be hard to deny the fact that I had a small crush on Colt. He was everything I could want; charming, tall, handsome. But in those moments, as he defended me, I could feel it turning to a major crush.

Anger pulsed through him as he walked over to Ryder. I’d actually never seen him so pissed off before. Colt, the easy going, overly sweet, fall guy, was bowing up on Tom Ryder.

I could tell Ryder wanted to say something back, but instead he bit his tongue as he strutted past Colt, making sure to bump shoulders with him on the way out.

Colt shook his head, making eye contact with me. He had a sorry expression on his face, genuine pity for me.

“Ignore him. Ryder’s a jackass.”

I giggled, “That’s an understatement.”

He chuckled, “Anyways, do you have any extra hats? I somehow managed to lose mine, and I already have some stunts I need to do.”

Colt nervously twiddled his thumbs, embarrassed of his clumsiness. It was our third day on set, and he’d already misplaced his hat.

I nodded, smiling. Colt was always losing his props and costume pieces in previous projects we’d worked together in, so I’d remembered to bring extras. Turning around to reach into the bucket of hats, I pulled one out and handed it to him.

“Thanks. And again, just don’t let Ryder get to you. I know you’ve worked with him before, but don’t take anything he says personally, okay? If he gives you any problems, just let me know, alright?”

It wasn’t surprising that Colt remembered me from past projects, but it still felt nice in contrast to Ryder’s forgetfulness.

I nodded, smiling. “Thanks Colt, I really appreciate that.”

My cheeks burned a light crimson shade, and I tilted my head down, hoping he didn’t notice.

As he walked out of the tent, I added “Let me know if you need another hat or anything. I brought extras just for you.”

Colt looked back at me, smirking. “I will definitely need another one, thanks sweetheart.”

The simple nickname made my head spin. Yep, this is definitely a major crush.

—

By day five of filming, Ryder had become okay with his costume. Well, maybe not okay, but definitely impartial. Perhaps because his ego had realized how ridiculously good the suit made him look, or maybe Colt had spoken to him alone about the matter.

Part of me hoped it was the latter.

My job as costume designer and manager was really simple; fix and replace shit all the time. Especially Colt’s shit. When day six rolled around, he had lost three hats, his metallic jacket, and somehow a singular shoe. I’m not kidding, he had stumbled into the costume tent, peg footed, hobbling on the shoe he’d managed to keep. I didn’t mind though. In fact, Colt was one of the few people that actually visited me in the tent, instead of walking in, grabbing their belongings, and quickly walking out, not saying a word or acknowledging my existence. Colt’s visits slowly became one of the only things I looked forward to during filming.

On day twelve, when Colt came in to the tent without a cowboy hat once again, I mustered up the courage to ask him the one thing I never thought I’d be able to ask.

“Do you want to hang out sometime. You know, just me and you? Outside of set.”

The sides of his mouth quirked up. “I’d love that actually. But I do have one request.”

I furrowed my brows, listening intently. “If me and you go out, you have to wear a cowboy hat.”

My mouth dropped open in protest, but he argued on. “You’ve seen me in these stupid things so many times, too many times to count. I’m completely and utterly embarrassed. Maybe I want to see you sporting your southern spirit for once.”

“I’m from Wisconsin!” I giggled, shaking my head rapidly. “I am not wearing one of these things in public.”

Colt rolled his eyes, “Fine, but you have to wear one around set for the rest of filming. Deal?”

I sighed, remembering that I barely ever exit my tent other than at lunch time and when leaving set for the day. “Deal.”

“Karaoke, seven, tonight. I’ll text you the address.”

Colt turned to leave, and I grabbed his shoulder, pausing him.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, yeah.” Colt chuckled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. We exchanged numbers, and he laughed at the excessive amount of repetitive digits in mine.

“And I’m expecting our deal to begin right now.” He said, glancing at the bucket of hats behind me. I sighed, picking one out and placing it upon my head.

“Happy?” I asked, holding out spirit fingers beside me.

Colt beamed, “Perfect.”

He turned and left the tent, and I pulled out my phone and began to update Colt’s contact name, only to sigh and pocket my phone again. Apple somehow doesn’t have a cowboy hat emoji.

—

When my Uber lazily pulled up to the karaoke bar, anxiety pooled in my stomach all at once. I shouldn’t have been this nervous, and I knew I was making this out to be something that it wasn’t. A date.

But what exactly was I supposed to think of this as? Hangouts happen at people’s houses, dates happen at bars. Plus it didn’t help that it was Colt and I alone. I look down at the sun dress that I donned, running my hands down the skirt. This wasn’t too formal, right?

I stepped out of the black car, thanking the half asleep driver, and walked toward the bar. I opened the door and automatically spotted Colt sitting by himself, drinking a small, lean glass of something colorful. The bar wasn’t exactly packed, but it wasn’t empty either. Numerous people danced around as a man in a orange and green polka dot button up did a bad rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”.

Making my way towards him, the anxiety filled my stomach even higher.

“Hey.” I said nervously, sitting down beside him.

Colt looked at me, examining my attire. “You look great.”

I blushed, shrugging. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

I wasn’t too keen on getting drunk because we still had to go to set in the morning and the last thing I wanted Colt Seavers to see was me throwing up in a bush, but a drink or two couldn’t hurt.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure,” I grabbed the bartender’s attention, “Can I please get a margarita?” She nodded, scrambling to assemble the cocktail.

“So I’m guessing you don’t drink much?” Colt asked, his lips in a sly smirk.

“What makes you say that?”

I chuckled, drinking the last of what I assume what his first drink and ordering another. I then learned the bright liquid was a sunset on ice.

“Well you ordered the most basic drink known to mankind. I mean, at least make it spicy.”

I guess that was true, but I didn’t like experimenting with my orders much. I didn’t enjoy drinking much in general due to the effects it would have on me later.

“I like what I like.” I shrugged, thanking the bartender as she handed me the margarita.

We sat in silence for a moment, until Colt turned to me. “So, what are we singing?”

I coughed into my drink. I hadn’t even thought of what I was going to sing yet.

“Funny of you to assume were doing a duet.” I said slyly, playing off the fact that I was trying to pull a song out of my ass.

Colt raised his eye brows. “Okay, then go and serenade me.”

I nodded at him, walking over to the DJ and requesting “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood. Once Polka Dots was done singing his heart out, the adrenaline had kicked in and I felt as if I ruled the world. Or maybe I just wanted to rule Colt’s world.

The small crowd clapped along as I sang, and I say Colt’s smile through the audience every time I tried to execute one of the runs in the song.

Afterwards, I walked over to him, slightly embarrassed but also proud. “How’d I do?”

His face was covered in amusement. “It was... entertaining.”

I giggled, punching his arm lightly. “You’re the one who told me to ‘sport my southern spirit’!”

He sighed, shaking his head sarcastically. “The cowboy had would’ve made it complete. You missed the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I think I’ll live. Now it’s your turn!”

I motioned towards the DJ booth, and he stood up turning back for a split second to wink at me.

I was expecting something silly. Maybe Total Eclipse of the Heart, or Sweet Caroline. I was terribly wrong.

By the time the first notes blared out of the speakers, I knew I was doomed.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you.

It’s like he’d searched my brain, found my favorite love song of all time, and decided he was going to make me fall in love with him by singing it.

His voice wasn’t perfect. There were parts that were off key and shaky, but the bigger picture was beautiful. I never thought I could fall in love with someone in a karaoke bar.

Once he was done, my shoulders dropped and the tension left my body. It had been so unexpected, the tune had snuck up on me and now I felt head over heels to the man who had sung it. I wasn’t the only one who loved it, the crowd was going crazy.

“How’d I do?” Colt asked me, sipping the drink that had been waiting for him. This had to have been his third drink, and I could tell he was tipsy from the way he spoke.

“It was great.” I wanted to scream ‘It was amazing! It was perfect! Please marry me!’ But thankfully I did not.

“‘Glad you liked it.”

We sat in silence for a moment before I got the guts to ask.

“Why that song?”

Colt hummed, as if asking me to repeat my question.

“Why’d you pick that song?”

He grinned to himself before shrugging. “I just like the song, I guess. It’s one of my favorites.”

It could’ve been my habit of overthinking and examining everything to the smallest detail, or it could’ve been the psychology course that I took in college and obsessively studied over for months, but Colt’s excessive blinking in those moments told me there was a good chance he was lying to me.

Why would he lie over a song?

“It’s one of my favorites too.” I smiled. I’d find out why he lied to me later.

Colt grinned to himself in satisfaction.

We sat there for another hour, and Colt drank two more tequila sunrises, which meant I was now his designated driver.

At about nine, I decided it was time to leave.

“Colt, I’m gonna give you a ride home, okay?”

Colt nodded dizzily.

“Did you drive here?”

“Yeah, here.” He clumsily handed me his keys, almost missing my hand. I stiffened a laugh. “Diane! Close out my tab, please.” The waitress handed him his card quickly.

We stood up, beginning to leave, when Colt turned back to the bartender. “Thank you, Diane, those drinks were great.”

I waved goodbye to Diane as well, reading the “Amy” on her name tag with a smile.

I got him into the car slowly, and began driving him home.

“Hey, y/n?”

I hummed, waiting to hear what he was about to say. Chances are it would be something ridiculous, and I was all here for it.

“You’re really pretty. Have you ever been told that?”

I blushed, and prayed the dark car shadowed me enough for him not to see.

“A time or two. Thank you, Colt.”

He leaned the passenger seat back, and I thought for a moment that he would go to sleep.

“Where are you staying?”

He turned his head to me, and shrugged. “Can we just go to yours?”

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. Colt Seavers, in my small temporary apartment that I was providing to stay in during the time we’d be filming. It wasn’t a mess since I’d only been staying in there for about two weeks, but it definitely wasn’t guest ready.

“Sure, why not?” I fumbled with my phone, pulling up my GPS app and getting directions to the apartment.

“Can I tell you something, y/n?”

I nodded slowly, ignoring the way my stomach felt when he said my name.

“I actually didn’t lose all of those hats.”

What?

I furrowed my eyebrows, whipping my head to look at him. “Then why’d you keep getting new ones from me?”

He hiccuped, smirking. “I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

If my face was a crimson shade before, it was a tomato now. I felt bad, like I was using Colt’s drunken state to get answers out of him.

“Did you like my song?” He looked over at me, waiting for my answer intensely.

My lips quirked up into a soft smile. “I did. ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ is actually one of my favorite songs.”

This made him giddy. He giggled like a school girl, and then stiffened a laugh myself.

“I know.” Colt said under his breath.

So he did know.

“How’d you know?” I pressed Colt for answers. I knew that if he found out he’d told me any of this while drunk, he’d be mortified, but I just couldn’t help my curiosity.

“I heard you listening to it one day on set. I was outside of your tent, about to come in to tell you that I’d lost another hat, but I stopped and listened for a while. You were singing along, and you sounded so good. That’s why I wanted to sing a duet with you.”

At this point, I’m the color of a fire truck.

We pulled up to the apartment, and I unbuckled, getting out. I walked over to Colt’s door and opened it for him.

“Very chivalrous, thank you my lady.”

I giggled, helping his wobbly frame out of the car. “You’re welcome kind gentleman.”

We walked into the apartment building, making our way up a flight of stairs. Well, I made my way up them, Colt tripped over himself with each new stair until he made it to the top. At one point, he almost fell all the way down them, and dragged me down by my arm with him, but he managed to catch himself.

I brought him to my room, closing the door behind him. It was small, the kitchen and lounging room directly next to one another, separated by no wall. There was a door that led to the bedroom with a bathroom connected.

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a plastic cup form the cupboard and filled it with water. I handed it to Colt, who turned his nose up at it like I were trying to feed him poison.

“You have to drink water or you’ll regret it in the morning, Colt. You still have to go in for filming, remember?”

He sighed, taking the cup from me and drinking it all at once. “I’m starving.”

I thought for a moment about what he could possibly find to eat in the apartment. Nothing. I’d pretty much been eating take out since I arrived to Sydney.

“I’ll order a pizza.”

I pulled my wallet out of my purse on the kitchen counter. Colt shook his head, reaching in his pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay.”

“You got the drinks, Colt, it’s fine.” I insisted, grabbing my card.

Colt handed me his entire wallet, “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I made you pay for it.” his drowsy eyes said otherwise, “Please, just let me.”

I sighed, taking his wallet from him, “Thank you.” I said under my breath.

Colt only winked at me, lazily walking to the couch and plopping himself on it.

I ordered the pizza, assuming he liked pepperoni because who doesn’t like pepperoni?

I sat down beside him on the couch once I was finished. He was flipping through the different options on Netflix, his face was focused intently to find something.

Colt Seavers was on my couch. Well not necessarily my couch since the apartment was only being rented for me, but you get the point. We were on the couch together, tryin to find a movie to watch with pizza on the way. This realization made my cheeks feel hot once again.

“Here we go.” Colt chuckled as he clicked on the block buster film “Bad Cop, Good Dog” starring the one and only Tom Ryder.

“Get him off the screen, I might puke.” I giggled, attempting to grab the remote from him. Colt held it as far away as his much longer arms could manage, and I gave up.

“This is such a horrible film.” Colt told me, his eyes laser focused on the screen still.

“Then why are we watching it?”

Colt thought for a moment. “The way he talked to you the other day isn’t anything new. I’ve seen him talk to pretty much every one on every set we worked on together just like that. I just couldn’t always save them like I did you. It’s easy to think he’s some big, powerful guy, but in reality, he’s a pussy.”

I stayed silent for a moment. It felt nice, knowing that he still cared so deeply about the way Ryder had treated me.

“That’s nice and all, but it still doesn’t explain why exactly were watching this.”

Colt shrugged, “Oh, I just like making fun of him. We can watch something else if you want to.”

I snatched the remote from him, “Please.”

After a few more minutes of searching, I decided on the 1998 classic “The Parent Trap”.

“This movie never made any sense to me.” Colt crossed his arms as the movie started.

“Why?”

“Well, first off, what judge arranged this custody system? I mean seriously, how did both parents just up and leave with one kid?” He slurred so horribly that I had to fight a laugh as he spoke.

“It’s just a movie.” There are a few movies that I would defend with my life, this is definitely one of them.

“You can’t just use that as an excuse. Just because it’s a movie doesn’t mean it’s allowed to just defy all logic.”

“Colt,” I turned to face him, “You are working on a sci-if space cowboy movie with aliens. I think that makes the parent trap sound pretty reasonable.”

Colt chuckled, “Touché.”

My heart fluttered as I looked at Colt, lazily snuggled into my couch.

There was a knock at the door and I hopped up, walking through the kitchen and dodging Colt’s wallet, grabbing mine instead.

I paid for the pizza and brought it in, met with the sight of an extremely hungry Colt waiting impatiently at the counter.

“You didn’t use my wallet.”

I sighed, putting mine back in my purse. “I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own things.”

Colt shook his head. “You’re absolutely kicking my ass at the chivalry game.”

Grabbing a slice of pizza, I went back to the living room. Colt followed quickly behind me, and we got about one-fourth through the movie before I could tell Colt was getting extremely tired.

I got up, and went to my room, grabbing a blanket and a pillow.

“Here.” I handed them to him. Colt smiled up at me gratefully.

“Thanks.” He made himself comfortable, before leaning back and closing his eyes. The couch wasn’t very small, which was surprising since the apartment was so compact. This is why I didn’t feel bad about having him sleep on the couch. He didn’t complain either.

“Goodnight.” He mumbled, drifting off.

I smirked at him, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water to place beside the couch. I also grabbed the bathroom’s trash can. He was going to have a terrible hangover.

“Goodnight Colt.”

I had gotten a date with Colt Seavers for the small price of humiliating myself in a southern style for the rest of filming. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.

Or maybe it wasn’t date and I was delusional, but Colt ended up sleeping on my couch, which is pretty sweet if you ask me.

[atinystraynstay]

What Are Best Friends For? - Kwon Soonyoung

Synopsis: Waking up next to your crush wasn’t how you expected to start your morning. You remember going to a bar to meet your friends of your best friend, Kwon Soonyoung, but it turns out it lead to something even more.

"So are we going to talk about what happened?"

Pairing: Non-Idol! Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

Inspiration: About Last Night - Monsta X

Genre: Angst - jealous Hoshi, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

Contains: mentions nudity, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.1k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

I was staring up at the ceiling. It was already 9:44am but I couldn't get myself to move. My hands were clutching onto the comforter. I recognized the room that I was in, but I couldn't quite recall the series of events that got me here. That is, I wasn't sure how I ended up here in Soonyoung's room practically naked.

Last night, the guys held their monthly dinner. You haven’t met all the boys, but you knew how much they meant to Soonyoung. They were his brothers. All the boys held different careers, which made it difficult for them to meet up consistently. What you always loved about their friendship was their dedication towards one another. For that reason, they all promised one another to meet up at least once a month.

You were also out last night. That you do remember. You went out on a date with someone named Jesse. While you two had things in common, the chemistry lacked. You tried giving your date as much attention as possible, but found yourself checking your phone more times than you’d prefer.

"Hey, where are you? Guys want to go out to the bars and I miss you 😔"

Thank goodness for Soonyoung. That text he sent was a lifeline you didn't know you needed. Feeling a bit guilty, you made up a white lie to tell your date.

"I'm so sorry, I need to get going. My roommate locked herself out of our apartment, so I need to go let her in. Text me?"

Before your date could ask for any additional details, you grabbed your purse and jacket and took off running towards the exit. The nearest train station was about a block away, so you didn't need to run far. You wanted to give off the impression you were in a rush, and you genuinely were. You were just in a rush to make the most out of your evening.

"There she is! Finally! Now we can have a great night," Seungkwan teased as he saw you approaching.

Soonyoung turned his head around to see you, a wide grin on his lips. "That bad of a date you showed up 10 minutes after I texted you?" He teased.

"Okay, bad isn't the word that I would use to describe it, but you could say that," you laughed. "Why would I want to be with a stranger when I can be with a few of my favorite people?"

Out of the band of brothers, you've met Seungkwan, DK, Jun, Minghao, Mingyu, and Woozi. Looking around, there was a full group which caused you to stand up a bit straighter. You at least wanted to give a good first impression before the drinks start pouring.

"So this is the infamous y/n?" One man called out. He had somewhat longer hair, pulled back into a tiny ponytail. He wore a smirk on his lips, amusement written all over his face.

"And you must be Jeonghan," you said, to which the boys were amused. Jeonghan nodded, offering his glass to you before taking a sip.

"At your service." "To cause chaos? Oh god, Hoshi-hyung, you think that's a good idea?" one of the younger man asked.

He seemed a bit older for his age, but was quite young in the face. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was a minor who snuck into the bar. His eyes bounced around the room as he took careful look at everyone. You always admired people who naturally look out for others, especially in social settings like this.

"Let me guess! You are Dino? The kind younger brother who needs to let loose a little?"

The boys snickered as Dino's cheeks flushed. He muttered something under his breath before taking a sip of his beer. "I mean, she's not wrong, Dino. We've been trying to get you to come out with us for months!" One of the other man pointed out.

"Hey! Just because you all barely graduated doesn't mean I'm not taking it seriously," Dino defended himself.

The group began to settle a bit. You always adored Soonyoung's friends, and you were grateful he was introducing you more to his world. And it seems like his closest friends thought highly of you. You couldn't help but wonder how much Soonyoung paid or threatened them to not say anything too outrageous.

"Y/n, what's your liquor of choice?" "Tequila!"

All the guys looked at you as if you had a second head. You raised an eyebrow and shrugged before calling over the waiter, ordering 14 shots for the table. All the while, Soonyoung wore a prideful grin on his lips.

"Hyung, I think you found someone who is right at your level." "Just proves that y/n is the best," Soonyoung responded, winking at you.

You weren't sure if it was the warmth of the room or what Soonyoung just said that caused you to feel your cheeks get warm. You were just grateful to be concealed underneath the lights, so you weren't completely exposed. However, it seems maybe Seungcheol noticed. You've always been warned he has a watchful eye on the entire group.

The waiter, your saving grace, brought over the 14 shots. He laid down the serving tray before you all. Thank goodness. You were the first to grab a shot glass, raising it in the air as a way to pivot the conversation. "Here's to a fun night, boys," you announced.

All the boys eagerly joined you. Seungcheol had a smirk, eyebrow raised. You didn't want to make things too obvious because you knew the rest of the group would start asking questions. And you didn't need that type of pressure when you weren't even sure why you were feeling the way you were.

Much to your delight, the conversations were flowing. You were getting along with all the guys, some of the asking about you and others wanting details about your friendship with Soonyoung. They were probably seeking details they could tease him about. But that also meant that the drinks kept coming thanks to Soonyoung.

And the whole time, Seungcheol was sitting back and watching you. As if he was anticipating for the moment your honesty slips, that you might have feelings for your best friend.

Sure, you've always found Soonyoung attractive. Not only was that true when it came to his physical appearance, but you also adored his personality. He was dedicated, driven, and genuine. Any girl would be lucky to call him theirs.

However, your friendship with Soonyoung was too important to you. You often tried to ignore your feelings, assuming that the reason why they were so intense was because you've been single for the past few months. Soonyoung gave you the attention you yearned for, but you didn't think things would eve work out between the two of you. You were friends first and last, nothing would change that.

As Soonyoung went to go to the bar to order another round, Seungcheol decided to swoop in to investigate. Your group had diminished slightly, making it easier to slide around the corner booth. Some of the guys were out on the dance floor, while others were attempting to flirt with people around the bar.

It was only you, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo at the moment. And Wonwoo was too absorbed in a video game on his voice. Surely, you would spill the truth with almost everyone occupied. Especially the one that conversation would be about.

"So," Seungcheol called out. He scooted closer to you, throwing an arm around you to lure you in closer. And also to keep your voices low, in case anyone would return. He wasn't about to let your little secret out in the open, not yet at least. "How long have you liked Soonyoung?"

Your eyes flew open. You had your body turned, so you were fully facing Seungcheol. The look on his face told you that you had been caught red-handed, that there was no use in lying. However, you were going to try your damn best.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you laughed. But not even you could deny how warm and tingly you got just at the mention of his name.

"So you look at all your friends as if they walk on water?" "Actually, yes. All my friends are amazing. Not sure if you make the cut with how you're insinuating I could ever be into my best friend. He's like a brother to me." "Kinky, y/n," he laughed. "Come on, your little secret is safe with me. How long? Does he know?"

Seungcheol's face was close to yours. Your heart stammered as you were trying to rack through all the potential white lies you could tell him. Yet, with Seungcheol's strong gaze on you, you were trapped. The truth was about to come out of you one way or another.

"What am I interrupting here?" A voice called out.

Your head pulled back to see Soonyoung behind Seungcheol. You would've smiled, knowing the conversation with Seungcheol would be put on pause. Yet, looking at Soonyoung, something was wrong. The man who normally radiated positive energy had a frown. What happened?

Seungcheol glanced back before sliding away from you. "Oh, nothing at all. I was just chekcing in on y/n."

Soonyoung quickly looked at you, concern replacing the momentarily silence. You glanced between Seungcheol and Soonyoung, trying to catch yourself up on what just happened. All the while, Wonwoo had a smile curled on his lips. That you could tell from his phone's brightness illuminating his face.

"I don't think she feels good," Seungcheol explained. "I was going to get her some water before taking her home." "She's my best friend. I've got her."

Before you could even protest, Seungcheol slid out of the booth which allowed Soonyoung to get closer. He had his hand extended out to you. You glanced at the table to see 4 empty shot glasses on the table, almost like tiny islands. Where as there were a multitude of other empty glasses placed all over from the crew.

"Come on, sweet girl," Soonyoung cooed. "Let's go home."

That's all you can remember. Now, you were laying in Soonyoung's bed without Soonyoung.

"Rise and shine," a voice called out to you. You jumped as you were a bit startled since you were so deep in thought. Soonyoung leaned against the doorway that led to his bedroom. He had two mugs in his hand, hot with the steam rising out of them. But you were too distracted by the fact that he was shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants.

"Morning," you said softly. There was a slight headache coming on as you moved up, pulling the comforter alongside with you. "Have you been up long?"

He shook his head. He wouldn't confess yet that he has been up every two hours to check on you. You would feel guilty, feel as if you ruined his night especially since you crashed guys' night. Honestly, you being there was the highlight of his evening especially as all the guys commented how they liked you. How couldn't they? For the time being though, Soonyoung was just concentrating on taking care of you.

"No, doll, I haven't. Figured you might enjoy some coffee though, so I went ahead and a fresh pot. I also have breakfast bagels on the way."

Your face lit up as if it was Christmas day. He couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly pushed himself off the doorway. "I see you chose to get comfortable. Sleep well?"

Soonyoung always had this ability to move with such grace, such elegance. He basically floated from the threshold to the bedside. He placed the two mugs on the coffee table before giving you his undivided attention.

"Wait," you said, looking from the mugs back into his eyes. "You didn't sleep here last night? We didn't-" "Oh, y/n. Never would have let that happen," he vowed. "I slept on the couch in the living room. Do you remember anything after leaving the bar?"

Feeling a bit embarrassed and self-conscious, you shook your head. You quickly moved your gaze from your best friend, from your crush to the space in front of you. Your grip tightened on the comforter to make sure you weren't accidentally exposing yourself. "No," you sighed.

Picking up on your mood, Soonyoung quickly headed towards his closet. He began moving his fingers along the hangers, searching for sometihng. You could only hear the movement, assuming he was getting clothing for himself. He definitely was going to kick me out, especially since you stole his bed fort he evening. His couch wasn't the most comfortable thing.

But what are best friends for, I guess?

Soon, a grey hoodie was placed in front of you. You looked back to Soonyoung offered you a gentle smile, motioning with head to encourage you to put it on.

What really sent you for a spiral was the way he turned his back. He was giving you the privacy to slip the oversized clothing over your head. He made it too easy to fall for him.

Seeing that it wasn't up for debate, you quickly slipped the hoodie on. It fits on you like a dress which makes you feel more comfortable. It also smelled like him which solidified the fact that you had developed feelings for your best friend. Fuck.

You cleared your throat to signal for Soonyoung that it was okay to turn around. And when he did, you saw that adorable smile of his. He seemed satisfied to see comfortable once again.

Yet, in his eyes, you could see something was stirring. It was as if he was having a conflict within himself. What wasn't he telling you?

"So," he began, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. God, you were having flashbacks to your conversation with Seungcheol. Your eyes widened slightly as you were worried as to what Soonyoung was going to say. Did Seungcheol text him? "You and Seungcheol?"

It was as if the track record playing came to a screeching halt. You and Seungcheol? You couldn't help but tilt your head in confusion.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind. He is one of my best friends, but so are you. You guys could be cute together. I saw the way he was all over you when I went to get our drinks."

The man in front of you wasn't the confident Soonyoung you've come to adore. This was the Soonyoung who was afraid to be vulnerable, who didn't know if it was okay to communicate his feelings so openly. You could tell that he was anticipating anything, good or bad, by the way he played with his fingers.

"Soonyoungie," you sighed. "Please do not go setting me up with a stranger. He's a nice guy, but he's not my type."

Soonyoung lifted his head, confused. Okay, maybe Seungcheol would've been your type right when you met Soonyoung. You always had a thing for confident men. Which is why it has been so damn easy to fall for your best friend the more his personality began to shine. He is the loudest introvert you've ever encountered.

"But," Soonyoung began, running a hand through his hair. "Cheol-hyung is your ideal guy? That's the type you've always gone after ever since I met you." "What if I want something different?"

It was then, for the first time since sitting, Soonyoung seemed eager. He was like a little kid, always wanting to be looped into every plan and every secret. He looked hopeful. This was just one secret you had hidden from him. Until now.

"What if I told you I've been hiding something from you?" "We're best friends, y/n. We aren't supposed to have secrets," he pouted. "Maybe I was afraid of how you would react?"

He scooted closer to you. His hand moved up to reach offer a hand for you to hold. He always did that whenever he felt like you were about to be vulnerable, always wanting to reassure he was a place of comfort for you. And he was.

"I just feel like the person I might be meant to be with has been right in front of me this whole time. I'm tired of searching in other people for what I truly want."

You prayed internally Soonyoung would understand what you were trying to convey. You knew deep down that you shouldn't be tiptoeing around your feelings. However, you were bracing yourself for the worst which was rejection from your best friend. You could easily play it off that you were attracted to a co-worker or another friend if things went south.

"Like you have fallen for someone who knows you better than yourself?"

Your eyes widened at Soonyoung's statement. You didn't even notice that your hand had slipped into his. Until his fingers slipped in between yours. It was such a comforting feeling to feel his touch, but it was even more electrified under the tension in the room.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Like you have fallen for someone who completes you, who you've always been able to be yourself around." This time, you squeezed his hand gently.

He squeezed your hand back. "Someone like you."

The air left your lungs at how quickly the tables turned. You never imagined that Kwon Soonyoung would confess his feelings for you. It felt like a fever dream.

But you were brought back to reality at the feeling of Soonyoung's hand on your face. His thumb caressed your flushed cheek affectionately.

"I thought I noticed you blush last night, but I thought I just imagining things," he commented. His tone was so soft yet it struck you like a lightning bolt. You didn't even care that you had been caught red-handed. Everything was coming to light. "Why haven't you said something sooner, angel?" "Because I didn't want to lose my best friend," you confessed.

He couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. He hated knowing that you two have been practically on a carousel, too afraid to get off of it because you had become so content being best friends. Truthfully, Soonyoung didn't want to lose you either. He thought if he exposed his emotions he would scare you off.

"I'm not going anywhere," he vowed. Slowly, he leaned in to let his lips ghost over yours. You felt shivers run throughout your body as you tried to reassure your psyche this was reality. "Just say the word and I'm all in. No more bullshit, angel."

"Hell yes."

Soonyoung couldn't fight the grin against his lips. And you swear, you felt him smiler even wider feeling your lips against his. You were smiling just as brightly as you two broke out into a fight of laughter.

So this is what best friends are truly for, huh?

[less-dev]

We're making a Starbound/Terraria inspired space sandbox game!

We're making a 2D sandbox game similar to Starbound! Or uh, terraria in space.

#nodev contains shitposting

#planetarium contains dev progress

Specifics under the cut

Who are you?

Aspen - Project Lead, Programmer, Pixel artist, Sound Designer.

Hey! I'm Aspen, I've been programming and making games for many many years in basically every engine there is... But never felt the drive to finish one, until now! I consider myself very experienced in the engine we're using (Gamemaker Studio 2.5) and have confidence we'll be able to make this game a reality. I also run the Tumblr account, so assume it's me behind the wheel as a default. Thank you for checking the game out!

Alec - Concept artist, Character Designer

H a l l o I'm Alec, I like writing and drawing and painting and designing shiiiiiiiit. I adore world building and have frequent bursts of creative possession in which I conceive and birth the greatest ideas and concepts in a mere moment. Otherwise, I can be a total dumbass and completely useless. I'm good at colours 👌 I have been a 85% a home-brew DM for about 2 years now and that is the greatest proof of my ADHD-given God powers of creativity. Slay.

What a cool guy!

Design pillars

Immersion. Above all else, I would like roleplay (casual or serious) to be natural and well supported. I would like players to find engaging with the world, and it's characters to be very personal.

Innovation. Tropes such as "You spawn in a green forest and can walk left or right" will be actively avoided. Biomes will have generation that presents more unique movement opportunities. Such as geysers in rock pools launching players high up, or giant twisting vines that hold up chunks of land to hop between.

More quality less quantity. Planets will be significantly more content-dense than Starbound, and perhaps controversially travel between them will be more difficult/expensive as well. This would encourage players to take advantage of all the resources presented on each planet, instead of hopping from one to the next. This would also encourage us throughout development to give each planet as much love as possible. Each planet should feel like a 'miniature terraria world'. Though actually achieving that is easier said than done.

Meaningful content. Procedurally generating creatures from 100 different pre-set monster parts could technically produce limitless alien creatures for players to encounter. But in both No Man's Sky and Starbound. I find this novelty to wear off quick, these creatures are not manually, meaningfully crafted and beyond an unusual appearance and some shallow gameplay changes... They do not create much of a memorable experience for the player. In my opinion, anyway. I would rather hand-craft every creature and make them all significantly unique and interesting. That's not to say procedurally generated creatures won't ever have a place in the game, but they certainly wont be as prevalent as others games.

Okay well... What's finished?

Fundamental lighting shaders akin to Starbound.

Some world generation brushes and basic commands.

A text mark-up language (heavily optimised), and game chat.

Extensive custom debugging tools

Hard and soft-loading of chunks to save on as much memory and CPU usage as possible.

Complete unloading, and compression of chunks on top of the previously mentioned system. As well as a live-saving system.

Setting, Story baseline, and conceptualization of the first 3 playable species. Each species will have a different starting planet, and immediately different playthrough.

Designs and cultures of several additional unplayable races.

Character proportion tests, sprites and sketches.

First-pass on collision functions.

Weighted Tile variance and tile connections.

CONCERNS

Multiplayer. While I have made an online multiplayer game before and it's definitely doable for this game, it would require some practice in a one-off test game to be fully confident. It would also take a LOT of time.

Modding. As far as I know gamemaker games are notoriously difficult for players to modify. Something like Unity is far easier even without mod support. Gamemaker on the other hand is difficult even if I want to design systems in favor of modders. This is kind of a problem for later, I have faith there'll be something we can do to make it work... But a cursory look says it won't be easy. I would be extremely disappointed if there was nothing we could do.

[putnamcapital]

this is how it is

So I’m definitely not being able to turn on my analytic brain about YR season 3. I really feel for the folks on here who are disappointed or angry about how the show it ended. It must really suck to feel invested and then to feel crestfallen. I have been interested and excited to read people’s analyses and reactions. But I just thought I’d share why, I think, it’s not the ‘mode’ I’m in, in case this resonates with anyone.

I realized even before season 3 was released that it wasn’t ‘just a fictional universe’ – it was a universe I was wholly committed to, because I saw myself in it. I see myself in the characters and their strengths and weakness but also in the story’s inflection points and its overall narrative journey. I had a tremendous amount riding on ‘what happens to these people I love’ because it had become a container for holding ‘what happens to me who I love, after all, despite everything’. To give you a sense of the level of blurring between fact and fiction, I realized I had my eyes closed during the “was it like your dream” scene in the palace because it felt so real and hence private and so I definitely shouldn’t be watching – whereas as them kissing in front of everyone at school, “in public” I was absolutely fine with. And my brain fully melted when they ended up sitting in the same position I had put them in during the actual walls-breaking-down-at-last conversation in my aged-up ten-years from now pre-season 3 story.

Anyway, this is background to explain that people’s meta about “I didn’t like how it turned out” or “it wasn’t realistic” or “it was corny” just ---feels--- to me like the same level of incoherence as ‘fish riding a bicycle’. Because of course I might not like how life turns out, or I might wish it was otherwise, or I might wish I had said something different, or he had not said that all (looking at you, ‘tent scene’) but that is just absolutely not how life is. In fact life can be the pure crystallization of something you do not want, something so horrifying you cannot even imagine it in order to imagine not wanting it. I found episode 5 unbearably difficult, I was triggered in basically every way possible. It was really only then that I was willing to acknowledge there was a moving hand behind all this – a god torturing the mortals. That it was Lisa doing this to ‘them’ and also to ‘us’. It felt like, if I had seen Lisa on the street, I would have screamed at her, and it was would have been as effective as shaking my fists at the sky, the same skies which rain death on the people of Gaza.

I am still not sure whether I feel okay about the decision to drop people off the cliff of episode 5, and then leave them there for a week. But it was masterful, if what you’re interested in is the felt experience of trauma – the way that time seems to stop and then dry to a sludge – while the world goes on but it seems impossible that it *is* going on given how much has been broken.

Anyway sorry if this is a bit much for your lunch break / coffee break but I know I’m not the only one on here who has spent more than a year living in and through the hopes and fears of a handful of Swedish teenagers. So I wanted to share how and why I came to experience season 3 simply as “This is how it is. This is what happened.”

[walkingstackofbooks]

Trying to decide what I want to work on right now and so to procrastinate I thought it'd be fun to share my current WIPs with you all (omg how did I get so manyyyyy)

Feel free to shout encouragement at me if there's any that particularly pique your interest! :P

Anyway, in order of how recently I've worked on them:

1. Prompt - what if Kukulaka got broken and Garak repaired him?

Coming soon? 80% it'll be done in the next week: I'm hoping to just bash it out at some point, but even though it's short and self-contained, it's hardddd...

2. Unexpected Chapter 2 of Imprisoned. Absolute Sloanshir rot: Sloan provides Julian with more "help", Julian gets increasingly confused/grateful/flustered/fucked

Coming soon? Almost 100% you're gonna see it next week - I am hype and should should should get to the end once I have an evening to myself ;)

3. Prompt - "I don't trust myself to be good to myself right now, but I need someone to be good to me." Conversations between Miles and Julian at various points in the series when they've hit rock bottom and need pulling out.

Coming soon? No... I've written one post-DBIP scene but I'd at least want the post-Argrathi scene and the rest of the DBIP stuff to be done before I put anything up, if not the whole thing... It's definitely a long fic I'll be returning to in fits and bursts. (sorry, prompter...)

4. Prompt - Garak and Julian's first conversation post-IPS/BIL.

Coming soon? It's a strong contender for next week - I was super hype for it when I started but then work interceded and I just haven't got back to it yet. It is a priority, though!

5. Pre-DBIP: a few moments where Julian's unspoken issues with his parents cause friction for him but go unnoticed by his friends. Post-DBIP a similar moment happens and is recognised for what it is. Featuring Julian + beets.

Coming soon? I really don't know. I've got a strong vision for it and scene one (of four) is done, but it's kind of stuttered since then.

6. Julian starts to neglect his self-care, leading to him passing out in the infirmary. Sisko would like to know what the hell happened.

Coming soon? It's already on tumblr in a rough and ready form, so editing to put on AO3 might well happen in the next week - and I'd say a 50% chance of something extra with that?

7. Chapter 2 of At Their Mercy. Alpha!Garak takes over with Omega!Julian where Kira left off... 😉😉😉

Coming soon? Gahhh, I have written this several times over in my brain, but getting the start of this chapter has been proving difficult. Definitely not until after the Imprisoned chapter is done.

8. Why Leeta Kept Kukulaka And How Julian Did Try To Ask For Him Back. Just cute, fluffy gap-filling; I love both of them.

Coming soon? Probably not. Only the outline has been written tbh and this hasn't caught my fancy in a while.

9. "Acts of God": A runabout crashes on a planet where medical intervention is outlawed. Unable to help his injured friends and forbidden from alleviating the suffering he sees around him, Julian has a very bad time...

Coming soon? No, I think this is probably going to be an after-VIsion-Awry project rather than a can-i-get-it-done-first one.

10. "Sloan's planet": Sloan is Julian's s31 handler, sending him out on all sorts of missions... but the missions are fake, Sloan using the holosuite to manipulate Julian pretty much any way he wants...

Coming soon? Possibly. This has more of a series vibe maybe with a few distinct one-shots, so if I get a short idea I might bash it out 🤷‍♀️ Sloanshir's often just so easy to fall into.. 🤣

11. Keiko + Molly + Julian + drawing post-DBIP. Julian's not very good at it, and it's a bit feels but a lot of fluff.

Coming soon? Well I haven't touched it since April but I do smile whenever I remember it exists (and looking at the file, more was written than I remember!)

Welp - and that's not even counting the myriad other ideas floating around my tumblr/ in my head! Or the fact that I have probably another 15-20k of Vision Awry to go... Well, here's looking forward to my August of writing!

(Which I'll definitely have... if I stop procrastinating! :P)

[the-letterbox-archives]

The Hunt is a Dance (Chapter 2)

this chapter is a letterbox archives original – do not steal, plagiarise, or repost this to other websites. trigger warnings below. author notes at the end.

this chapter of the hunt is a dance contains:

dead animals, weaponry mentions of: exhaustion, starvation allusion to: schadenfreude, xenophobia, religious tension

By all accounts, Seren should have been terrified. She should have prayed to every god she grew up hearing stories about. And yet, as she noticed the unsteady breathing of her foe, exactly the same rhythm as her own, a sense of calm washed over her. She tilted her head, allowing her face to don a playful smile.

“Well, hello there,” she said, glancing down, ignoring her abhorrence of the carcass, “did you kill that?”

“It’s mine.” The child’s voice would have been menacing if it didn’t sound so strained.

Taking the moment to get a better look at the child, Seren’s attention was stolen by the dark circles under their eyes, and how their hands trembled under the weight of the weapon; each frenetic tremor shaking the crossbow.

She let out a small laugh at the assumption, “oh, I understand that! I don’t want it.”

“That’s… that’s right,” they said, words slow and slurred as the crossbow seemed to get heavier in their hands.

“Are you alright?” Seren tried to make her voice as kind and inviting as possible.

“Fine.”

Her smile took on a more wily form. The situation was tragic and disturbing, yes, alright; Seren knew that much. But something about the child’s defensiveness was the only entertaining aspect of the conversation. “Are you quite sure?”

Seren took a step closer, dismissing any rational fear bubbling up inside her. In response, the child took a step back.

“Don’t touch it.” They ordered.

“Tell me your name, little one.” Seren said, completely ignoring the threat.

The child blinked, confusion contorting their expression. They glanced around the forest, scanning their surroundings for an answer.

“Nettle.”

Seren raised an eyebrow. “What reason do you have to lie?”

“I’m not lying.”

She clicked her tongue. Seren believed things were lies until she was proved otherwise. It was safer that way. A person kept at arm’s length could not stab as deeply as someone kept close. Though it wasn’t difficult to deduce that the young poacher was lying.

The child’s gaze slipped to the ground. For a moment, the tiredness, the fear, and the aggression gave way, giving way to another emotion.

“I picked it for myself,” Nettle said with a voice almost too quiet to hear. The crossbow faltered in their hands.

Seren’s brow furrowed. The story was inconclusive, but it unwound the forest tapestry with its pity.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Seren let a sigh escape her lips. No, a child’s sob story would not sway her. It would not break her shell. Her head flicked up, taking in the sun’s rays, however obscured against the canopy it was.

“This is Ebonwick land. Our hunters are very… territorial.”

Nettle flinched at only the words. They looked a hunter, however dishevelled and hungry, but the mere mention of the Ebonwick hunter’s feverishly territorial nature was enough to freeze their blood.

“I asked the Huntress for meat,” their voice wavered as they offered a pendant around their neck, “I didn’t choose it to be here.”

The pendant glittered in the late morning sun. Silver bounced off it, shimmering like a precious jewel. On it, a symbol of the Huntress was carved, a deity usually only spoken of in blasphemous, hushed whispers by the people of Ebonwick.

“I won’t apologise,” they continued, “this is mine.”

Without thought, and possibly without regret, Seren’s face twisted at the Huntress’ name. A terrifyingly beautiful goddess to her devotees, but a terrifyingly violent heretic to Ebonwick, and to Seren by association. She gave her best effort to disguise the discomfort. Thankfully, Nettle did not seem to notice – they distracted themselves with their own tired, laboured sigh.

“Please leave. And don’t tell your hunters,” they muttered, crossbow lowering without the intent to do so.

Seren pushed her heels into the dirt and stepped away, crushing flowers as she did. They wailed underneath her. And yet, as the cries echoed in her mind, she was more enthralled by the way the young hunter slouched as they stood, how they began to sink to the ground as they saw Seren’s small offering as a peace treaty. Nettle’s knees grazed the forest floor, their apostate blood sharing land with loving wildflowers. They let out a ragged breath as their adrenaline dissipated.

“May I ask again how you are feeling?” Seren proffered.

Nettle murmured a response that escaped Seren’s ears. However, it could be assumed it was a similar reply to earlier. Before all the words had escaped their mouth, Nettle slumped over the deer’s carcass, the rhythm of their breath finally steadying as their eyes fluttered shut.

I FORGOT TO UPLOAD THIS AAAH sorry for the delay!! there's a few more chapters on the way as well!! hope you enjoyed!

the hunt is a dance tag list: (thank you to everyone who asked to be added, it means the world to me!)

@thecomfywriter, @wyked-ao3, @mysticstarlightduck, @thelovelymachinery, @kind-lion,

@leahnardo-da-veggie, @an-indecisive-nerd, @the-golden-comet, @honeybewrites

(@cafekitsune border)

[felassan]

just some thoughts (and things that stood out to me) on the latest batch of Dragon Age official cookbook preview pages (first batch, thoughts on those), under a cut in case anyone would rather not see cookbook spoilers :) -

thoughts:

it's neat to see some veggie recipes in there

I was hoping that the cookbook would contain recipes from across Thedas, from different nations and groups/factions, not just a few. and in the preview pages you can see recipes/food from Antiva, Rivain, Seheron, Nevarra, Anderfels, the Dalish, the dwarves, Tevinter, the Avvar, Chasind, etc, which is neat.

in my post on the first lot of preview pages, I said that the thing I'm most excited about about the cookbook is the new snippets of lore scattered throughout, and it looks like this theme continues. for example, I don't recall knowing this factoid before about Nevarran cultural approach to food/cuisine: "For Nevarrans, food is as much a feast for the eyes as for the mouth"

it's nice to see references to different characters from all three main games in the book, such as Sera, Alistair, Fenris, and Merrill.

in my post on the first lot of preview pages, I wondered if the recipes were written/compiled by one person, someone who was like Thedas' culinary world's answer to Genitivi. and I feel like this isn't too far off the case. Genitivi travelled all throughout Thedas gathering lore and information and writing about what he saw. in the Introduction page of the cookbook, we learn that the book author Devon set out to travel all across Thedas to sample and study the foods of the world, and they have now written this book and compiled these recipes based on their journeys and experiences.

I've made nettle soup irl from nettles that I foraged myself, so I'm excited to try making it again using the recipe from this book ◕‿◕

I searched bits of yet otherrr preview pages of the cookbook that are available elsewhere, and in these pages+those pages at least, I can see no mention so far of Serault/Seraultine food q.q but like I said, that wish is extremely niche to me as a person LOL so that's ok hh

Some other things:

First, we have 2 new mentions of Solas, beyond the egg joke from the first batch of preview pages. I have transcribed them here:

Mention 1) - "[...] brought on by the changing of the seasons, but they also ensure that long journeys away from home are possible. Imagine how difficult it would be for Dalish hunters to bring back meat the clan is depending on if they have to be back for supper every night - or, worse, hunt on an empty stomach! This spiced jerky ensures that all Dalish hunters are well provisioned whenever they set out on a hunt so that no one, either the hunter or the clan at home, must go hungry. I do wonder, given how well this food keeps, whether it's used in offerings made by certain Dalish elves to Fen'Harel. Although his shrines are usually located well outside of Dalish camps, I can't imagine that leaving behind food that'll readily spoil is good practice, especially if the prevailing opinion about these shrines is to avoid them. Besides, he is the Dread Wolf. If any god would enjoy a good piece of jerky, it should be him!" [text seems to accompany Spiced Jerky recipe]

I thought this one was especially interesting given the reference to "certain Dalish elves" making offerings to Fen'Harel. 👁️ (jerky food treats for dogs is a thing tho hhh) It would be fun if this was a reference to the "Fen'Harel cultists"/Agents of Fen'Harel and their activities (not literal offerings perhaps but 'offerings' 🤔 supply network?). or just as interestingly, we know that "In the past, however, it is said that the Dread Wolf was called upon by elves for aid and advice in various matters, but always with a price. In spite of this, offerings of thanks were often given for Fen'Harel's help as he did follow through on promises of aid, if in an unorthodox manner. Since the fall of Arlathan, however, this practice has understandably fallen out of favor as a rule", and we also know that "Furthermore, some Dalish elves still erect shrines to him and make offerings; perhaps as a form of appeasement, but still a sign that the fearful wariness in which the Dread Wolf is held by modern-day elves is not absolute" [from Offering to the Dread Wolf in Landmarks on the Plains]. this reminds me of the other elves in other places which "yet linger" (Solas/Abelas conversation).

Mention 2) - "Hearth Cakes. Some lovely comfort food, courtesy of the Dalish. These cakes are traditionally made over the hearth on an iron griddle or skillet (hence the name). While the original recipe calls for halla butter, I've found that other types of butter work just as well. The resulting dough stays moist on the inside, but crisp and flaky on the outside. In other words: perfect. Although hearth cakes can be made plain, I recommend adding some dried fruit into the mix. Cranberries, raisins and currants all work. I believe the Dalish simply use whatever is on hand. Of course, if you're feeling a bit mischievous, you could mix in some hot peppers instead. Just be prepared to be cursed as loudly and vehemently as Fen'Harel, the Lord of Tricksters himself!" [text seems to accompany Hearth Cakes recipe]

Also -

there are at least two mentions of sus unidentified/mystery meat hhh

the 'canon worldstate' that the cookbook is set in is in a time period after the new Divine is crowned in DA:I (so it's likely been penned in-world post-DA:I. before or after Trespasser I wonder?). in the cookbook worldstate also, the Divine's identity is given as Cassandra, the monarch of Ferelden is given as Alistair, Hawke's personality is given as Diplomatic, and they must have been a warrior or rogue, because this world's Varric met Bethany, so Carver would have died in the DAII prologue. is this the 'default' worldstate BioWare will use for DA:D in the case of no import/Keep-setup of choices? also, the Inquisition and the Inquisitor seem to be mentioned in the present tense.

in the photo for Rivaini couscous, one of the props is the Alistair pendant and letter item from the Gear Store (20% off discount code if you want one can be found here). is there meaning in this, is it random/aesthetic dressing for the photo setup, or is it simply merch placement/promo?

the in-world writer of the book, Devon, seems to be a hero fan, of the 3 main PCs and their companions 🥺 going by the way they write about them and how they partially inspired their food quest and how they know trivia about them. which I just think is so cute. and this leads to the next point which is simply

❗ Hero of Ferelden, Champion of Kirkwall and Inquisitor mentions

I'm also 🥺 over how Devon seems to have been the child of the chef/cook and/or the kitchen boy, girl or child at Castle Cousland. little things like this make the world feel more alive and the call back is nice. it also makes me wonder how old Devon was during the time when Duncan was recruiting the HoF, if they were born by then at all.

the recipes also seem to span our time through the series. for example, "Cacio e pepe" I think was first mentioned in Tevinter Nights. meanwhile, Chasind Sack Mead was a gift item all the way back in DA:O.

the map in the background of page 8 looks like it's the one from Tevinter Nights.

there's a recipe for Hearth Cakes in World of Thedas. we can see from the contents page of the cookbook that there is a recipe for Hearth Cakes in the new cookbook too. Sera's Yummy Corn, for instance, also appears in both. I wonder how much overlap there is between the food section in WoT and the new cookbook? are they straight copy-pastes of that content, or new versions/Devon's take [etc] of these foods? hopefully the latter ^^ from the 'yet other bits of pages elsewhere' that I've seen, it looks like the latter i.e. not copy-pastes of WoT, but without the full book to compare side by side with WoT it's a bit hard to tell.

characters mentioned in the book, from what I can see (there may be more): Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana, Loghain, Sten, Zevran, the HoF's mabari (I love that they didn't forget Dog hh), Anders, Bethany, Fenris, Merrill, Isabela, Varric, Sebastian, Cassandra, Iron Bull, the Chargers, Sera, Cole, Vivienne, Dorian, Solas, Cullen, Josephine, Krem, plus the 3 main PCs ofc.

[clover0101]

Hello! I made a drabble about little Haruka.

"Why can't I be fixed?"

[Contains discussion about his condition, possible ableism and angst 😭😭]

"What will we do with him?" asked the father, resting his head in one hand, the other tapping restlessly on the table.

"I'm not sure..." she answered, furrowing her brow. "Lately he's been more...problematic."

"He's starting to test my patience." The man's firm voice resonated in the empty, dark room, except for the background noise of the TV and the dim light from the kitchen.

"I can't seem to make it better, no matter how hard I try... I can explain things to him a thousand times, and a thousand times he'll get it wrong."

"How's he doing in school?"

"The teacher says he has the same problems," the mother paused, her tone visibly more irritated, "they suggested we put him in a special program, but I'm not sure. Not being at the same level as the other kids...it's putting us in an awkward position." She looked around, as if wanting to make sure no one could hear them and find out about such an embarrassing topic. "Maybe it's best he studies at home, so his classmates don't notice..."

Meanwhile, that child, the topic of conversation, was standing in the hallway, peeking his head out just enough to pick up his parents' words. His plan was to get some water and go back to sleep so he wouldn't be up past his bedtime, but it didn't seem that would be the case. He leaned his back against the wall, fiddling with the fabric of his pajamas in an effort to keep still and not bother anyone.

Dragging his steps, he went back to his room. Large, full of comforts. The toys of his childhood were strewn across the floor, that stuffed rabbit waiting for him in bed as always. Haruka remembered the day he received it, how his mother hugged him and laughed with him. Tears began welling up in his eyes as he recalled what they were talking about him earlier, finding it true. Things started to get difficult a while ago. When faced with everyday things, like a particular subject or activity, everything was complicated. His hands moved very clumsily and couldn’t regulating themselves, and tasks like talking to others or understanding what was indicated to him were nearly impossible, no matter how hard he tried.

He looked the clock. Midnight. His mother would be upset if she knew he couldn't sleep and went to school tired again. But he couldn't go to sleep like this, he couldn't keep being like this. He tried to think of ways in which he could fix himself, like she said, but it seemed everything that could be attempted already failed.

His defects and the thought of being a shame to his parents accumulated into a pile of frustrations and anxieties that made him wonder if it was really worth their bother to try to mold him into someone who could be useful, normal. He turned 13 just a while ago, but he had come to miss that day, remembering his mother's smile and congratulations. He sighed, thinking about how much he wanted to feel that way again. Cherished, loved, good.

He walked until he was in front of the bed, and knelt before it. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, murmuring prayers under his breath. He prayed for his family, trusting that maybe, if he was good enough, God would hear him and fix everything wrong with him.

The pleas went from being general, to more specific. "I want to be good for my mother. I don't want to cause any more problems. I don't want them to think I’m a mistake."

He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands together in concentration. One last wish left his lips, whose only witness was the night and a child who at such a young age was starting to break - "And if I can't fix myself, then...please, make them love me tomorrow."

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for sacrificing someone to an elder god? [RP character]

This title is… sort of misleading, I realise. I know I’m the asshole. I am not a good person. I would just… like some external input regarding all that has happened.

For clarity’s sake, I will also note that some time ago, I made another post on this forum, asking for your judgement on the morality of my having ran away from home. If you have seen me here before, that is why.

I will not spend much time reestablishing myself. My gender and age are difficult to discuss in the terms you are familiar with, but you may think of me as [30M] for simplicity’s sake.

For quite a large stretch of time, I have been fighting the influence of several entities laying claim upon my psyche. Most notable in this case are two: one which I will call “E”, and one which I will call “A”. For some time, E has been manipulating me, attempting in various ways to control, harm, and kill me. It is only with the assistance of two (former) friends that I have managed to remain largely unharmed.

I will refer to these friends as “R” [≈40M] and “C” [≈20sF]. I have no doubt that they will recognise themselves if they see this post, but I do not wish to reveal their identity to anyone else.

Over time, I managed to establish a life for myself, although the influence of E was still a looming threat. I wish to establish that life was good. Life was wonderful in the most mundane ways. It was fleeting. It was so horribly fleeting.

I’m sorry.

But I digress. I found an arcane text left outside my door one day. If you are familiar with my previous post, you will know I have referred to curiosity as my sharpest weakness, and I am afraid you will not be surprised by the following actions I took.

The book was not written in a script I could understand. I had, at the time, attributed this to its authorship. However, it is now apparent to me that this was A’s work, in an attempt to manipulate me: to lure me to her with something I could not understand.

I spoke to another god [one of the few beings not out for my head, and one whose jurisdiction was meant to contain knowledge and language] about the book, believing they would provide answers. However, they told me the book was truly within the domain of A.

I found a way to contact A, although it was difficult. When she spoke to me, she told me the book held vast power: the power to bring someone back from the dead, and told me she would grant me knowledge of that ensconced within.

The knowledge and power she would grant would, maybe, be enough to help me fight against E, though she refused to directly intervene.

On one condition.

There’s always a catch. Nothing comes for free. Nothing good lasts.

I’m sure, based on the title of this post, you can see where this is going. She asked me to kill a servant of hers: a witch. A girl.

I should stress that I was told the girl would live. That, after her ritualistic death, she would return with greater power. Afterwards, my sole responsibility was to bring her to meet with A.

Nothing else.

I’m sorry. It’s not a justification.

I hunted her down. With the help oEntirely on my own, acting as an independent agent, I came into possession of a substance which would simulate non-existence, blinding, immobilising, and rendering invisible those dosed with it.

I used this substance on her, in an attempt to make it as painless as possible, and to prevent her from seeing my face. To clear my conscience? To make it as quick as possible? I drove my blade into her like a lamb upon the sacrificial altar.

I felt sick. I felt so, so sick.

A familiar pull in my head brought me to where she had re-emerged. I guided her gently to A, where her hands took her into the darkness in-between.

I didn’t know she’d be gone for good. I swear. I swear. I was a fool. I don’t know if it would have changed anything, had I known, but I swear I didn’t know.

I came back.

R knew, of course. C didn’t. She trusted me. She still cared about me. I told her and she still cared. Didn’t mind. Thought I had been misled. I can’t bear to look her in her eyes.

I can’t die now.

If I try, I’ll be brought back in another form: such is the burden of a witch.

I suppose my question isn’t really if I’m in the wrong here. I know I am. I’ve established that well.

I just want to know if I can fix this. I want to know if it’s possible for me to be a good person. I want to know if I can do anything right with my life, or if I should keep hunting for a way to tear this immortality out of my soul and rid the world of me for good.

If any of you- the people I called friends, once- are reading this, I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean a thing after what I’ve done, but I am.

I miss you.

[tfw-no-tennis]

slawbo 2 fic extended authors notes

hiii here are the fun extra notes for my latest slawbo (sabo/law) fic, which can be read here. Read that before checking out this post!

so to start out, warning that this will contain some frank and clinical discussions of medicine/anatomy/dissecting human bodies (which u probably already know if you came here from the fic). Also, there are pictures, but nothing gory or real. Onwards!

so this fic was a LOT of fun for me, as someone who has quite a bit of dissecting experience.

I will say, I've never done an actual autopsy before, which is technically what was in the fic, so some stuff might not be exactly accurate. The dissecting I've done has been for learning purposes only.

There is quite a bit handwaving/fantasy stuff in this fic, but I tried to keep as much of it as accurate as possible (without verging on boring, I hope).

one thing abt cadavers: SO much heavier than you think. If you've ever tried to lift/carry/move a (living) person who's completely limp, you know what I mean. Bodies are so much heavier when the person is just (literal) dead weight.

the story I referenced in the fic authors note is as follows: picture this. its like 7 am. my friend and I are preparing the cadavers for teaching and we realize that we need to flip one of them over (some are 'face up' while others are 'face down,' allowing us to visualize the different muscles/organs/etc of each side). had we ever done this before? no. not even once. but it was part of our job, and how hard could it be

Really hard as it turns out. we picked the smallest cadaver (a probably 5 foot 100 lb old lady. also all the cadavers have their skin and fat dissected off already so even lighter!). my friend is a buff dude and I'm a jock, even. but we underestimated it

when I tell you guys it was bad..............we were flipping the body from face-up to face-down. it was SO awkward and SO heavy, we weren't able to get leverage to just lift the body off the table, so we tried to roll the body instead. the problem here was that the abdomen and chest had been dissected open, so when we STRUGGLED to flip/roll the body, there was a lot of jostling, which resulted in. uh. all of the organs falling out.

now most of them were still internally attached, so all that meant was that the intestines were kinda spilling out and stuff. but a few things had been cut up into pieces so you could see the inside of them - namely the liver and I thiiiiink the spleen.

so there we are, struggling to even roll this cadaver over, and organs are getting everywhere, and a few chunks of the liver fall out and bounce across the floor...

oh it was so bad. we eventually got the poor cadaver situated and all of the organs in their proper place, and we certainly learned our lesson about attempting to flip a cadaver without a small army to assist you (at least once they had been dissected to that extent).

got covered in 'cadaver juice' (not Body Juice, but rather the preservative chemicals you spray fixed cadavers with) during this ordeal. thank god for lab coats.

In any case, would a fireman carry have been ideal for Sabo? Not really sure, I haven't ever tried to move a body by myself. He probably should've tried to put the body on a wheeled table and just wheeled it outta there, bc that is WAY easier (even tho those tables are usually janky as fuck and harder to wheel than they should be), but alas.

Also, positioning blocks are real and they're my best friend. they look like this, generally:

the ones i've used have been more rubber-y than foam-y, but yeah. they also come in other shapes - there are some kinda u-shaped ones for the neck/head that are very useful in getting things into the position you need.

It's actually pretty easy to move a body's limbs around and place them where they need to be - it can become difficult in preserved cadavers that have stayed in one position for a while (generally they'll get fixated there after a bit)

cut gloves! also a real thing. they come in lots of styles and can look like this:

they're cut resistant, so if you accidentally slice them w/your scalpel, you won't get cut. very VERY important if you don't know the communicable disease status of the body you're dissecting (which was the case in the fic)

I've never had cause to use cut gloves, really, since I have only worked with donated bodies that have been screened ahead of time for diseases. They're still around if people want to use them, though - dead people germs aren't great to have in an open wound, even if you aren't gonna get hepatitis or whatever.

I see people wear nitrile gloves (which are the thin blue gloves you see any medical/lab people wearing - the gloves aren't latex anymore! except when they are but whatever) over their cut gloves so that the cut gloves don't get all yucky, but there's no need to wear a pair under them too, like Sabo did (which is why law was laughing at him)

the way that Law cuts the chest open is a bit non-traditional, but I wanted to include a sternum saw AND rib shears - which look like this, respectively:

swear to god I saw someone using garden clippers as rib shears once. at least they LOOKED straight outta home depot. seriously....so I had to include that bit lmao

also, the sound that the rib shears make is...certainly distinct, so I had to shout that out as well. Also, clipping through ribs is shockingly easy, damn (then again, most cadavers I've worked with are pretty elderly, so that's a factor). no surprise that you often break ribs if you do CPR on a person!

I did skip over a lot of what would actually happen, which is the semi-tedious cutting away of SOOOO SO MUCH fat and fascia (connective tissue that overlies and connects EVERYTHING). I didn't want to bog the story down with that sort of detail that nobody else would really care abt lmao

the stomach IS actually all up in the thoracic cavity (the part of your chest covered by your ribs - technically the lower boundary is your diaphragm, and your stomach is below that in your abdominal cavity, but a lot of abdominal organs are tucked under the ribs, like the stomach and liver and spleen, especially if you lay down).

eye safety! also very important, especially if you don't know where the body's been. you reeeeeally don't want cadaver juice in your eyeball.

did I wear eye protection? no, I did not. I wore the following: gloves. sometimes a lab coat if I was cold. end of list. lmaooooo

some people will wear masks, gowns, caps, foot covers, and eye protection. all completely valid. I DID wear more stuff when working with 'fresh' (non-preserved) cadavers - they're much smellier and still have blood (fixed/preserved cadavers have all the blood removed and replaced w/chemicals like formaldehyde. they are also smelly but in a distinctly chemical way, which I personally don't really mind, vs 'fresh' cadavers that end up smelling like uh. dead meat).

Metz scissors aka Metzenbaum scissors (I used the shorter version bc I feel weird namedropping stuff that's clearly from 'our' world and named after an irl person in 'our' world in a one piece fic) are used for cutting delicate tissue like the fibrous pericardium (see below for more on that). They look like this:

aortic dissection is very real! and very bad - a chunk of patients die within about an hour. it's definitely an emergency! though the swiftness of death depends on how severe the dissection is (it's not necessarily a death sentence).

this can be preceded by an aortic aneurysm, which is when the aorta balloons and often THEN dissects.

Here's a basic pic of what an aortic dissection looks like, as described in the fic:

having a bicuspid aortic valve (which is a condition you're born with, not something that develops) IS a risk factor for aortic aneurysm, because a bicuspid aortic valve makes blood flow a bit less efficient. It looks like this:

I thought it would be funny to have the cause of death be something like this - something completely unrelated to the rest of the nonsense the guy & Sabo had going on, on Sabo's offscreen Revolutionary mission. Terrible timing --> fic premise.

atherosclerosis is very real too! it's as law described - plaque builds up in the artery, and the artery expands (and hardens as it naturally loses elasticity due to the expansion) to accommodate the flow of blood which has been impaired by the plaque.

I've seen some crazy atherosclerotic arteries mannnnn. you can feel and see the hard patches on a cadaver, it's fascinating! it's pretty common (arteries lose their elasticity as you age anyways, which usually leads to some enlargement, but there's quite a range of severity). very interesting imo

hemostatic forceps (AKA hemostats) are these grippy tools that you generally hold in your non-dominant hand to position tissue while you cut w/a scalpel in your dominant hand. you can use different types of tweezers (also called forceps) too but I prefer hemostats. my favored type, which is what I pictured for the fic, are these:

...this is technically an Allis Clamp, not forceps, but I didn't want to get too crazy technical.

some anatomy terms I used:

manubrium - the top portion of the sternum! you can feel the top bit of it at the bottom of the dip in your neck between your clavicles (collarbones).

mediastinal cavity (AKA the mediastinum) - the space in your chest between your two lungs, containing the heart & other important structures!

pericardium - the thin 'sack' surrounding the heart! It has layers, and the outermost layer is the fibrous pericardium. In order to see a cadaver's heart, you have to cut through it (plus a tonnnnn of fat)

adipose tissue is a fancy way of saying fat! it's yellow and blobby and very greasy. GREAT for cushioning organs, so there's plenty of it surrounding all your major organs.

the coronary arteries are the small arteries on the outside of the heart that bring blood to the heart itself. you've probably heard of them in the context of heart attacks, which is when one or more of them (there are 2 major branches, a right and left, and then those have quite a few branches) gets blocked by a clot and your heart muscle stops receiving blood. Uh oh!

the aorta is the biiiig main artery coming out of your heart. all of the other arteries can be traced back to this one. whoa!

so why did Law do All That? well, flirting, obviously, but also because I've injected a lot of myself into this fic's Law characterization, specifically his love of anatomy. As someone in school to become a medical practitioner myself, I love to explore Law's Doctor side (even tho it's wild to me that there seems to be no formal medical education system in place in the OP universe (understandably ig) - no boards!? no residency!? wild!). I like to think that Law plays up his affinity for dissecting in order to up his creepy factor (he's committed to the bit), but I also like to think that he genuinely does love that stuff, and have a fascination with it (a fascination that does come off as creepy, especially to outsiders - I experience this all the time! Something I do a lot is talk in detail about dissection, and then someone mentions 'hey uh we're all eating rn' and I realize that ohhh yeah most people don't want to hear a detailed description of a body being cut up while they try to eat dinner. doesn't even occur to me!)

so yeah, I projected a lot of my love of anatomy and dissecting and medicine onto Law for this fic, and had a blast doing it. I hope you all enjoyed (and maybe learned something too!) and I look forward to bringing y'all more fic soon* (*if grad school doesn't send me to an early grave first)!

[fakesurprise]

Of Christmas bones and jaysome wishes

The morning Christmas songs on the radio sound slightly strained, which would be silly if the world didn’t contain warnings if you pay even a small amount of attention. This close to the holidays, the tension in the world could be cut as easily as fruit cake. And taste almost as foul.

I pour myself a coffee. The wandering magician is already wandering the town, doing small magics to help places and people before the season made it too difficult. There are no texts from him yet about needing anything, so I’m considering options and what gifts to snag for him when Jay bounces into the kitchen of the hotel suite from his room.

“Oh! I’m totally going to be busy today Charlie just so you know!”

I pause, mid-sip of coffee. When an eleven year old from Outside the universe tells you he’s going to be busy, there are several responses. The sane one would be asking when and where and being as far away from the resulting adventure as possible. Adventures are one thing; busy adventures are very much something Else.

“Busy doing what?”

“I’m helping Rudolph,” Jay says proudly.

I set my coffee down. “And Rudolph is –?” I ask, because last week Jay was making friends with a virus he said was named Dave.

“The reindeer, Charlie. Because because because! Santa knows if you’ve been good or bad, so Santa knew the other reindeer were mean! And they shouldn’t be like that, so I’m going to help Rudolph have an extra jaysome time!”

Jay vanishes with a huge grin.

I finish my coffee and text the magician a warning before leaving the hotel.

The staff are polite and wary-friendly, which means rumours about Jay have spread. Most hotels have jaysome insurance, which Jay is convinced is a hug and a very good thing. I’m just glad this hotel doesn’t have memory foam mattresses.

It isn’t snowing yet but the air is a pleasant chill as I walk outside. Most of the shops are opening up, their gods working the morning shifts. Chain stores seldom have a god, but local places tend to even if no one realises that. Some nod when they see me. A few try to hide as the created gods hide as normal employees. I let the latter think they succeed, as I’m not remotely here to deal with anything weird that I know of.

I get a few nice shirts for the magician, a couple of pieces of clothing I’m certain Jay will enjoy wearing and the day seems almost sane before I catch movement in an alley and a skeleton girl walks up to me. She is wearing a redsatin coat over bones and her eyes contain bright stars that dance and play together.

No one else is noticing her, but people tend not to notice things they know can’t be real.

I don’t have that luck or luxury these days.

“I think we might have met before?”

The skeleton girl considers that, her head cocked to the side. She nods once.

“If you’re looking for Jay, he’s busy helping a reindeer.”

She smiles, and I know that in the same way I know that Jay is eleven. The god inside me stirs protectively.

I let out a breath. “You came to me for help instead of Jay?”

She crosses her arms and nods, and this time her silence speaks volumes.

“Fair enough.” I can do more than eat troublesome gods. Thanks to knowing a magician, a lot more than other god eaters. Thanks to being friends with Jay, sometimes far more than that.

I reach, opening a direction I have no name for. The moment stretches, my ears pop, and another skeleton is simply here. The snow keeps falling, and shoppers move around us as if unaware we are here. This one is taller, somewhat like a tree except not being a tree at all.

“You’re cruxymox’s skeleton?” I ask, the knowing a slow dawning realisation. The new skeleton nods and smiles almost shyly.

I have questions, and even more worries, but the skeletons touch hands, bone flowing into bone in a gentle fractal pattern.

They walk away, talking in a way that hums through bones and is not words at all. A sharing. An understanding. Making a story as wind whistles like music through their bodies.

I don’t listen in. Knowing things is one matter; knowing what not to learn is even more important sometimes.

I head back to the hotel, wondering about the bones of trees and garland but not enough to be foolish about it. The wandering magician is in the hotel suite, his eyes dark shadows. This is a rough time of year for magic, needs and desires acting as demands more than gifts.

I offer a light hug, which he accepts with a soft laugh.

“This is part of your holiday gift -.” I begin.

Jay appears. His eyes are wide and worry radiates from him.

“Kiddo?” the wandering magician asks.

“Uhms! I think an oops happened cuz Rudolph said something about Santa being the CEO of Christmas and got all kinds of mad-face before eating Santa!”

I exchange glances with the magician. Gifts can wait. A worried Jay cannot.

“Let’s go,” the magician says, and we vanish into an adventure that is probably Jay’s secret gift to us.

Sometimes even jaysome works in mysterious ways.

[symunuk]

[Since I've been distracted with updating other parts of his carrd, here's what I've got so far for Symon's little notes/diary entries for canon companions (Shadowheart, Astarion, Gale) - they're more vibes for his thought process around them early-game because I find that easier than spelling it out. I think when they're all together they'll be somewhat revealing about Symon more generally too :3]

The following are excerpts from the writings of the half-orc Sy’munuk, compiled and abridged from pages entitled ‘Future Autobiography (workshop a name later)’ or similar.

Translations from orcish are marked <<as such>>. Where direct translations are not available, the original language has been retained with a translation note [TN].

Shadowheart - picked her up first in the shadow of the nautiloid. A Cleric (of ???). <<Seems a mercurial sort, though I’ve seemingly made a good first impression by not leaving her to die in a pod. The wonders a life-debt can achieve. Carries a mysterious artefact that she’s highly protective of. Suspicious? Gaining her trust could be difficult, but worthwhile. My healing skills just aren’t up to snuff.>> [...]<<(Lady Tymora bless her when she next trims her fringe, she needs all the help she can get.)>>

[...] It’s clear from [Shadowheart’s] clandestine praying and distaste for charitable good-deeds that her deity is of the evil persuasion. I find myself almost relieved. This is familiar (familial, even) territory. <<Perhaps it’s typical to feel this way about healers, but I find myself protective of her. Gods, I hope the wizard can’t read orcish.>>

If I just so happen to leave this page open in her field of view– well met, Shadowheart. Be assured: the entire orc pantheon is evil gods, I’m hardly going to be one to judge. If anyone else is reading this, though: you’ll prod out your lovers’ eyes if you’re going to be that nosy. Piss off.

--

Astarion <<I’ve a feeling I shouldn’t trust this bastard as far as I can throw him (though he’s scrawny enough that even I could pick him up). Pulled a knife on me for trying to leave him for the brains to chew on - and what can I say… I find myself endeared. He’s an elf of some description - possibly part drow, or possibly practising law gives you the pallor of an agoraphobic vampire. (✦ Idea: start a rumour that the magistrates of Baldur’s Gate are a vampire coven, see if it goes anywhere.)>>

[...] Well. I did check to see if I’d truly written the word “vampire” beside Astarion’s name as a joke previously and somehow not immediately clocked the truth of it. Sure enough, there it was. Don’t I feel a fool– but (in all fairness to myself) the man did exhibit some pretty clear signs of not charring into ash despite the sun on his flesh. <<Vampire bites: do they contain some kind of venom? It wasn’t unpleasant…>> I wonder: do you read orcish, Astarion? You’re not always as subtle as you think. Unless you wanted me to notice you keep going through my pack? Either way: flick back a page or two, I think you’ll enjoy the limericks.

--

<<Gods above, and the wizard. We pulled that infuriating little sebzakhad [TN: cow-hunter, pej.] out of a waypoint and not a minute later does he insult me. Now, I can deal with a little arrogance (and the common hubris of your average wizard is practically entertainment) but the line must be drawn at condescension. Arcane casters… I’d spit on the lot of them if they were worth a drop of phlegm.>> [...] If I have to spend the rest of my tentacle-free life around Gale of Waterdeep, I’ll drown myself in the Chionthar.

[...] Gods… they do say never meet your heroes… I suppose Elminster wasn’t one of my idols specifically, but I’ve certainly read enough about him. Not much could move me to sympathy for Gale but I admit… I’m as shaken as the rest of camp. Less from Mystra’s demands, moreso for his eagerness. He’s spoken of his plans for the end of his life before but alwa- [The page here is smudged by a drop of ink.] always as an inevitability of his condition. And why so little faith in the rest of us? Further wizardly arrogance, I suppose. Leave it to the Chosens of the world, feckless little half-brains. Ach, what am I saying…

[thestormsofsaints]

Forgiveness is a Feat

The other day, I experienced forgiving someone who hurt me. It was so difficult. It's like I was holding on to a very heavy weight that numbed my fingers and made me believe my muscles would get ripped by the weight. To forgive someone, especially someone who hurt you without remorse or accountability, it's like realizing no one is going to help you carry the weight.

It's like realizing the weight is yours to keep carrying. But to forgive means you get to put the weight down and rest once in a while.

And then there's the radical idea of loving your enemies. Of still being of service to those that made circumstances difficult (almost unbearable in some cases) to you.

To forgive is a feat, but to love your enemy is holy.

As I am, I could never love my enemy. But by the grace of God, because He fills me with so much love and so much to be grateful for, I am able to find in myself that which never existed -- the capacity to emulate the manner in which Jesus loved His enemies as He suffered on the Cross.

God forgives and loves the worst of us. Who am I to enact vengeance, hold onto anger, and breed hatred for another fellow Child of God? Who am I to execute my own brand of justice?

When I hold onto my pain, I worship the idea of hurting someone else more than I worship God. I put my anger in a place that blinds me from God's love for me. I deprive myself of the grace of mercy.

I am made in God's image and likeness. We all are. But that does not give us like authority or any entitlement that grants us the permission to be as cruel.

My personal understanding of human pain has put me in places where my anger consumed me and I saw nothing else. It was a terrible experience despite those little moments of catharsis. I thought it was that catharsis that was healing.

Then, I reached a point of pain that was so life-altering. At that point, I tried to do something to experience that catharsis I thought was healing, only to realize it was like opening Pandora's box with all that untamed, evil energy finally letting loose. Some describe it as "blacking out" and then five minutes later, they're covered in blood. Blinded by rage.

Anger is, by nature, wild. Wild fire destroys everything in its path. Contained fire lights candles, cooks food, and warms homes. Anger is like that. If we understand where it comes from and don't just let it alight whatever is around it, we can use anger for good. Anger can fuel a sense of justice, it can teach us to protect ourselves, and it can teach us so much about ourselves and what parts of us need healing.

Anger is not wrong. Emotions are not and never will be bad. It's what we do with it that matters. We are allowed to be angry. What we need to watch out for is that we don't let anger take control of everything moving forward.

To learn to set anger aside is one of my most painful challenges right now. But it was through God's grace that I learned I don't have to put anger aside. I don't have to deny it. Because of God's grace, I can contain the anger into something for good. Because of God's grace, there may one day no longer be any anger to shelve, because there won't be any.

So today, I learned that though loving thy enemy is not humanly possible, if I am grounded and constantly mindful of God's overflowing graces and love for me, I will have the capacity to love those who have and may hurt me.

Closing Prayer

My dear God, grant me the grace to look for You in every day and every little way. Grant me the grace to be joyfully surprised by the harmony and perfect timing of Your plans coming together. In this constant mindfulness of Your presence and goodness, may I find the God-given capacity to love my neighbors and enemies even at their worst. Keep me aligned with Your will for me so I may always remember that they are as loved by You as I am. Allow me the grace to constantly remember that anger comes from pain, so I may no longer respond to it with my own pain as well. I am far from holy, my dear God, but because I desire to be close to You, I know I am capable of great strength and kindness. You, my dear God, are my strength. I trust in You and love You. Amen.

[motleystitches]

If you translate "Creation of the Gods" （封神演义）as "Theogony" in English, it would make a movie difficult to popularize to an English speaking audience, but the story is in fact, a version of Chinese theogony of the establishment of the names of specific parts the pantheon. In short, the current title of the movie is short, understandable, succinct, aside from the the unfortunate subtitle "Kingdom of Storms" making it sounding like some sort of Warcraft novelization.

However, "Investiture of the Gods" （封神榜） is such a weird translation whether outside or used within the movie. I know it's from the "official" translation from once upon a time, but the word is about as esoteric as theogony and IMHO, inappropriate for the meaning in certain contexts. After all, the Item itself refers list of those mortals who would be gods. "Deification List" is a possibility but "List" sounds a bit dismissive, and "Deification" is arguably obscure as well, but not overly so. After all, "List for Godhood" triggers unnecessary Judaeo-Christian associations in English. Thus, I think "Deities" and variations needs to remain, to keep the pagan connections intact. The additional of the "list" is that the godhood also by divine authority can be translated to the word "Mandate" which's already connected with the existing and accepted translation of "Heaven's Mandate" in terms of Chinese imperial authority and will of the powers that be.

Then the question comes, should it be "Mandate for Deification" or "Deification Mandate". I'd argue the later, as the point is that there are mortal names on the list foretold and planned by a higher level pantheon. That it may or may not contain multiple names is already built within the words "deification" implying mortal(s) and the variables contained in the word "mandate".

Furthermore, unlike "investiture," which covers only the confirmation part of the word 榜 is incorrectly used because investiture refers to a ceremony or a bestowment that has already occurred, the word "mandate" is agnostic to time, which's important in a story that's *about* the process of the investiture. Thus, as a book title, it's appropriate though clearly already replaced by the more digestible "Creation of the Gods". However, as an item represented by a divine scroll, it's simply wrong and indigestible and should be replaced by an easier sequence of words.

Therefore, I propose that "Deification Mandate" provides a much smoother and a much more meaningful and applicable translation. I will talk about this movie later, after I actually watch it instead of just burying myself in its behind the scenes "making of" documentaries.