#Of all is to whom I would like to study more in depth

[honehonn3honey]

All drawings about Kirishima from 2019 to 2024

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[22ayla21]

Can I request plzz !! What if maybe in an AU, we, the reader, were to meet Mydei's mother?? Like how would mydei introduce us to her what would her reaction be? I'm so curioussss please do anything u have in mind with this idea !! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

Gorgo's Blessing

Meeting of Mydei's mother with her future daughter-in-law

The hall was lit with soft light, casting warm shadows on the tall columns. The air was filled with the faint scent of incense, flickering lamps cast a faint glow on the dark stone walls, and nearby a waterfall flowed rhythmically, like the ancient voice of history itself. Here, in the depths of the palace, in Gorgo's private chambers, silence and calm reigned.

The young woman stood at the entrance, clutching the edges of her robe tightly, but not out of fear - rather out of respect. Her breathing was even, and her gaze - determined. She knew that this moment was important not only for her, but for Mydei as well.

Gorgo sat on the dais, leaning on the arm of the chair. Her golden eyes carefully studied the girl before her. She was not like the women who had ever surrounded her son. There was no affectation in her, no desire to impress. She stood before her as she was - and this inspired respect in Gorgo.

She didn't need words. One look was enough to understand: before her stood the one whom her son not only loved. The one whom he was ready to protect. The one whom, despite all the difficulties and trials, he chose not with his heart, but with his very soul.

Gorgo rose slowly, smoothly, without unnecessary movements. Her steps were confident, as if time itself did not touch her. She came closer, studying her future daughter-in-law.

Her hair gently touched her shoulders, her eyes were filled with light - the light that could illuminate even the darkest paths of her son.

The young woman did not look away. She did not try to hide, did not try to look submissive. There was something more in her eyes - a promise that she would stay by Mydei's side, no matter what.

Gorgo felt something strange - something she had not felt for many years. Satisfaction.

Her son made the right choice. She slowly extended her hand, touching the young woman's cheek with her palm. There was no coldness or severity in her gesture, only a warmth that was rarely seen from her. It was her blessing.

---

Later, when the young woman had to leave, Gorgo stood for a long time at the window, watching her son meet his beloved below.

He was happy. Gorgo smiled, softly, barely noticeably. Perhaps for the first time in many years, her heart was at peace.

[hisui-dreamer]

*flops* OMG RINNA THE EVENTR CONGRATS POOKS!!!!!

uhm,,,, i have a bouquet of yellow marquerite (I come soon) nd yellow pansy (i think of you often) i'd like to give to my dearest Riddle..... i was thinking maybe i have neglected my husband for far too long on my travels.

a surprise foretold

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x gn!reader

Synopsis: riddle misses you more than he thought possible

Tags: slight angst with happy ending, pining, reunion, domestic fluff, fluff

Word count: 958

Notes: thanks for requesting sakkakuu!!! i hope you enjoy lovesick riddle hehehe

Masterlist

flowers of choice:

yellow marguerites: i come soon

yellow pansies: i think of you often

A sigh echoed around the room.

Riddle’s attention drifted, as it often did these past weeks, his gaze fixating on the window with a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, by some stroke of luck, he might catch a glimpse of your silhouette passing by, and he could rush out to envelop you in his arms.

The past month had stretched on like an endless expanse of time, each day dragging on without your presence. Without you, his home felt like a mere shell of its former self, lacking the vibrancy and joy that you brought into every room. Every corner of the house seemed to echo with your absence, amplifying the emptiness that lingered in the air like a palpable presence.

Each morning, Riddle would awaken to the harsh reality of your absence, the cold emptiness of the bed beside him a stark contrast to the warmth he craved. He longed for the gentle touch of your hand to chase away the lingering shadows of loneliness, the comforting stretch of your arms that wrapped around him. But each day dawned with you still far away, leaving him to face the day's challenges alone. Nights were the hardest, the silence unbearable as he lay awake, his gaze forever fixed on the ceiling.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Riddle's lips as he reflected on the depth of his need for you. It was a realization that both comforted and dismayed him, for how could it be that someone who had been a part of his life for such a relatively short time could leave such an indelible mark on his soul? He couldn't help but feel a pang of self-deprecation at his own vulnerability, acknowledging that he had become somewhat pathetic in his dependence on you. Yet, he couldn't deny the truth of his feelings; he needed you, perhaps more than he cared to admit, and he could only hope that you felt the same.

Then, unexpectedly, the doorbell shattered his train of thought, pulling him out of the depths of his reverie. With cautious hope, Riddle made his way to the door, wondering who could be on the other side. Opening it slowly, he was greeted by the sight of a deliveryman holding a bouquet of yellow flowers, their vibrant hues standing out against the dullness of his surroundings like a beacon of hope.

As he accepted the bouquet, his fingers trembled slightly with anticipation. The note attached to the flowers bore a message that sent his heart soaring.

"For my beloved Riddle, whom I miss dearly. With all my love, your dearest Rose."

Riddle studied the bouquet, his fingers delicately tracing the petals, brimming with gratitude for your thoughtful gesture. As he examined each flower with care, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the love and longing conveyed in your message.

Yellow marguerites and yellow pansies.

I come soon. I think of you often.

His heart skipped a beat as he deciphered the message. It was as if your voice echoed in his mind, promising your return.

Then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, a sudden realization dawned upon him.

Today was the day. Today, you were coming home

A surge of excitement coursed through his veins, electrifying every fibre of his being. The thought of your imminent return filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy and anticipation. After a month of longing and yearning, you were finally coming back to him.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Riddle moved about the house with a sense of urgency, a flurry of activity as he meticulously tidied up every corner, ensuring that everything was perfect for your long-awaited homecoming. Furniture was rearranged with precision, pillows were fluffed to perfection, and your favourite scented candles were lit, infusing the air with a welcoming fragrance that seemed to linger long after they were lit.

And then, just as he put the finishing touches on his preparations, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway, followed by the familiar click of the door opening. With swift movements, Riddle quickly adjusted his hair and smoothed down the wrinkles in his clothes, and hurried to the entrance.

And there you were, standing in the doorway, as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

"Riddle!" you exclaimed as you leapt into his arms, your embrace so sudden and full of joy that he had to quickly adjust his stance to catch you. His heart swelled with love as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your warmth against him once again.

"Welcome home, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

You pulled back from the hug, your eyes sparkling with curiosity as you glanced around the area. "Wait, did you know I was coming home today? How? It was supposed to be a surprise!" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

Riddle's lips curved into an amused smile as he looked at you fondly. "My rose, you could not have been more obvious," he teased, poking your nose playfully.

Blushing slightly at being caught, you chuckled and shook your head in mock exasperation. "Well, I guess the surprise is ruined then," you admitted with a playful grin.

He gently guided you inside, his hand warm and comforting against yours as he led you towards the living room. "Come, I've prepared some snacks for you," he said, gesturing towards the table set with an array of treats. "Why don't you tell me more about your travels? I've been eagerly awaiting your return, my dear."

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hey love! I absolutely adore A Flower Among Stone, would you consider writing another part? Wishing you the best day!! xoxo

Here is the next part!! This one was a lot of fun to write! I hope you enjoy it! Hugs xxxxx

Two Ships Passing in the Night

The meeting in the hallway lingered in your mind like a shadow, pressing against your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to shake it. Something about Lord Annatar unsettled you in a way you could not fully name. His beauty was too sharp, almost cutting, as if it had been crafted rather than born. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, too smooth, like silk wrapped around a blade. And his scent—not the crisp air of the elven lands nor the sturdy, earthen musk of dwarven halls—but something sweet, cloying, almost sickly, like honey left to rot in the sun.

Now, back in your chambers, you paced, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The stone walls, once a source of security and warmth, now felt close and unfamiliar. This mountain had been your home, your refuge. Since the day you were carried from the wilds, battered and broken, Khazad-dûm had cradled you in its depths, kept you safe when you had nowhere else to go. But now… now you felt adrift in its halls, a creeping unease settling into your bones.

You thought of Durin—the King. His demeanor had already begun to shift with the weight of the ring upon his hand. And now, with Annatar here, with his honeyed words and shadowed presence, you feared the king was slipping further into something unseen. Something dark.

You should speak with Prince Durin. With Disa. But how? How could you tell them that the guest they had welcomed into their halls made your very skin crawl? That his presence turned the air heavy, thick with something unseen but felt? You did not wish to offend them, to insult their judgment—but could you stay silent? Could you watch as that darkness wove its way deeper into the heart of Khazad-dûm?

You sank onto the edge of your bed, pressing your hands into the thick furs covering it. There was another you could turn to.

Elrond.

The thought of him brought a sharp pang to your chest. You had written, again and again, pouring your fears into ink, but there had been no reply. No sign that he had even received your words. Had something happened? Or had he, too, simply turned away? The absence of his voice, his presence, left you feeling more lost than ever.

For the first time in years, you felt as though you had nowhere to turn, no place where you truly belonged. And that loss settled over you like the weight of the mountain itself, pressing you into the stone, suffocating and silent.

The decision settled in your chest like a stone. You could not risk offending Durin and Disa, nor could you disregard the kindness they had shown you all these years. But you could not stay here, not with the unease that wrapped around you like a shadow. If Elrond was still in Eregion, perhaps he would have the answers you sought. And if not, then surely Celebrimbor would appreciate the skills you had honed under the mountain’s watchful eye. You could be useful there—you could belong.

Your hands moved frantically as you packed, shoving garments into your satchel with little care. The mountain no longer felt like home, and every moment spent lingering deepened the growing sense of suffocation.

A soft knock sounded at your door before it creaked open. "Have you seen my—?" Disa’s voice cut off as she took in the scene before her, her sharp eyes narrowing. She stepped further inside, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What’s all this?"

You stilled for only a moment before forcing a smile. "I’ve been called to Eregion. Urgently. There’s no time to waste."

Disa folded her arms across her chest, studying you with quiet intensity. "Called by whom?"

You hesitated just long enough for her to catch it. Her expression softened, but worry flickered behind her dark eyes. "Something is wrong. You’re running."

You shook your head, turning away under the guise of fastening your pack. "It’s nothing like that. I just—I need to go. Please understand."

Disa exhaled slowly, stepping closer. She did not press further, though concern lingered in her gaze. "If you must go, then go. But let me know as soon as you arrive. And if you need anything—anything at all—you need only ask."

The knot in your throat tightened. You turned abruptly, crushing her in a hug. "I’ll speak soon. I promise."

Before she could say another word, you turned and rushed out, the weight of farewell pressing heavy against your chest.

+++++

Disa watched you disappear down the corridor, her heart twisting with unease. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones, in the way you had avoided meeting her gaze, in the frantic way your hands had moved as you packed.

She lingered for only a moment before turning sharply on her heel and making her way toward her husband’s chambers. Durin needed to know. Whatever had unsettled you so deeply had rooted itself in the heart of Khazad-dûm, and she would not rest until she understood what it was.

+++++

The journey to Eregion had been long and wearisome, but as you passed through the city gates, the sight of its graceful arches and sunlit towers did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The weight of all you had left behind pressed heavily upon you, but you forced yourself to hold your head high. You were here now—there was no turning back.

A familiar voice rang out, warm and welcoming. "Look who the wind has brought back to us!"

Mirdania approached with a bright smile, her golden hair catching the afternoon light as she embraced you jovially. You hesitated for only a moment before returning the gesture, grasping onto the familiarity of a friend—if only tentatively.

"It’s good to see you again, Mirdania," you said, managing a small smile. "I hope you have been well."

"Better now that you’re here!" she laughed, stepping back to examine you with curiosity. "Though you look as though the road has not been kind to you. Come, we’ll find you food and rest."

You hesitated, shifting your weight. "Before that—could you tell me of Elrond? He has not responded to my letters of late. Is he well?"

Mirdania’s expression softened with sympathy. "Ah," she sighed, "I am sorry, but Lord Elrond is not here."

The words struck you like a sudden gust of cold wind. "Not here?"

"No. He passed through briefly a week ago, after being summoned by the High King. He left westward with a small troop—not a grand procession, mind you, just a handful of trusted companions. Toward Khazad-dûm, I believe."

You barely managed to school your expression, though your heart twisted with the cruel irony of it all. Of course. Of course he would go there. The gods must have been laughing at you.

Swallowing down your disappointment, you forced yourself to nod. "I see. Well… then I would like to request an audience with Lord Celebrimbor. I have spent much time learning from the dwarves and have acquired skills in gem mining and cutting that may be of use to him."

Mirdania’s eyes brightened. "That is an intriguing offer! I have no doubt he would be interested. But, I must warn you, he is quite preoccupied at the moment with a very demanding project. If you would be so kind as to wait in the guest quarters, I will inform him of your presence."

You nodded, grateful for even a sliver of purpose. "Of course. Thank you, Mirdania."

She smiled warmly, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. "Rest for now. I will find you when he is ready."

As you followed her toward the guest quarters, you could not shake the feeling that no matter where you went, you were always arriving just a moment too late.

+++++

Elrond rode through the gates of Khazad-dûm with his small company, the sound of hooves muffled by the heavy air that seemed to cling to the great dwarven halls. He reined his horse to a stop, scanning the vast city with a growing unease. The liveliness that once marked the mountain kingdom was subdued, the ever-present hum of mining and industry now softer, as if the mountain itself was holding its breath.

He turned to his men. "Wait here. I will request an audience with Durin myself."

Dismounting, he walked deeper into the halls, his steps echoing through the wide corridors. The stone walls felt heavier than before, and a strange sorrow clung to the air, a weight he could not name. He had expected tension, but not this. The dwarves he passed cast wary glances his way, their usual nods of greeting absent. Whispers trailed behind him, voices hushed as if speaking too loudly might crack the very foundations of their home.

Arriving at the chambers of Durin and Disa, he barely had time to knock before the door was wrenched open. He was met with the full force of Disa’s glare.

"And just where have you been?!" she demanded, her voice a mixture of anger and something deeper, something raw.

Elrond opened his mouth to respond, but Disa did not wait. She grabbed his arm with surprising strength and yanked him inside, pushing him down onto a seat at their table with a force that left no room for protest.

"Durin!" she bellowed over her shoulder, her arms crossed tightly as she turned back to Elrond. Her dark eyes flashed with an intensity that made him tense instinctively. "You had best have a damn good reason for your absence."

Elrond, still reeling from the suddenness of the encounter, composed himself as best he could. "Lady Disa, if I have caused offense, it was not my intention—"

"Offense?" she cut in sharply, stepping closer. "You think this is about offense?" Her voice softened only slightly, eyes dark with concern. "How is she? How is our kinmate?"

Elrond blinked, not realizing Disa and Durin cared for her so much. "Kinmate?"

Disa scoffed, shaking her head in frustration. "Do not play the fool, Elrond. She left for Eregion not a fortnight ago! We have heard nothing since!"

A sharp alarm shot through him, his posture stiffening. "She left? For Eregion?"

Disa’s glare only sharpened. "You mean to tell me she is not with you?"

Elrond stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the stone floor. "No. I have not seen her since she departed from Eregion months ago. If she has left Khazad-dûm, she is out there—alone. The roads are dangerous, and orcs have been stirring."

Disa’s expression faltered, the fire in her eyes dimming into something far worse—fear. "Then where is she?"

Before another word could be spoken, the chamber door opened again, and Prince Durin entered, his usually proud and strong frame slumped under an invisible weight. His face was smeared with ash, and his eyes were dark with grief.

Disa turned to him instantly, her voice dropping into something more tender but no less urgent. "Durin—?"

Elrond took a step forward, his heart pounding with foreboding. "What has happened?"

Durin exhaled slowly, his voice heavy as the mountain itself. "The King is dead."

The words crashed into them like a hammer striking stone. Disa let out a sharp breath, pressing a hand to her chest as though trying to steady herself.

Elrond remained frozen, the weight of the revelation settling deep within him. The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing against them from all sides.

Disa, regaining some of her composure, turned back to Elrond, her voice hushed but firm. "We need to find her. If she left for Eregion and never arrived, something is wrong. And with Durin—" she gestured to her husband, whose grief was etched into every line of his face—"everything is about to change."

Elrond nodded, the gravity of the moment settling over him like a heavy cloak. Whatever had befallen the kingdom of the dwarves was far from over, and now, he feared, they had lost more than just their king.

[mumms-the-word]

he is enough

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Just some poetic thoughts about a certain handsome wizard who sometimes views himself as not having value when he absolutely does. Pic of my Tav Dani because that’s all I got. ao3 link

———

He is a man for whom grand gestures are as easy as breathing.

An evening in Waterdeep, conjured from the depths of a shadow curse. A night on the glimmering currents of the Outer Planes, your boat a small atom of light among an expanse of glowing stardust. He would create a castle out of amethysts for you, or find a way to pluck a single thread of the Weave to alter your fate if you asked.

All to prove his worth. His value. To show you his love and convince you that your love is not wasted on him.

And yet, you think, as you lay against him with his arms around you, his nose grazing the back of your shoulder, his breath ghosting across your skin, slow and even as he drifts off to sleep, you find in some ways that you prefer moments like this. When all the grand gestures fall away and you are left with these tiny little moments. These precious little touches.

Like freshwater pearls among glittering diamonds, you seek them out, irregular and imperfect, preferring their soft luster over the blinding glitter. You cradle them close to your heart, threading them together on a string, a poem of lines that are no more than broken moments, tiny gestures, little touches.

fingers grazing along your back  the kiss at the corner of your mouth his heartbeat under your palm calm, steady, quiet

You love to watch him when he isn’t looking, when he is wholly himself without the pressure to perform confidence for you. To study him the way he studies the pages of an arcane tome, seeking the secrets between lines.

his lines around his eyes between his brows the curve of his lips the length of his nose the sweep of his hair silver-threaded a hint of divinity among the mundane just like him 

Not that you’ve ever asked for his confidence or for a performance. You’ve only ever asked for a moment of his time. Posing questions just to hear him talk, watching as much as you listen.

his self-conscious smile halfway between arrogance and doubt arrogance of his knowledge doubt in your interest the way he looks off toward the horizon when his thoughts take him to planes you can scarcely comprehend  the way his eyes find their way back to you the instant he hears your voice or feels your touch you, like the Dog Star, guiding him home again

He worries at times, when he catches you watching him as he reads or studies or speaks, that he’s boring you. He thinks he needs to make grander gestures, that he just hasn’t found the thing that wows you yet. 

But while he ponders the wide expanse of the universe, wondering in which hidden corner he might find the one perfect thing to win your heart forever, you fill a universe of your own making with the sounds and sights and senses of him whom you love.

your littlest finger curled around his, a silent promise amid a busy day, a tiny link that chains the two of you together, the smallest constellation for the briefest moment his lips on your cheek, a teeny kiss made in passing as he moves by you, pulled momentarily by your gravity before roaming away, like a comet tugged temporarily into orbit

He would want you to focus on his abilities. His magic. The gestures he makes to cast his spells. The timbre of his voice as he shapes the incantations. The pull of the Weave as it bends to his will. You do notice. You do.

But there are other moments you find more precious. The tiniest things about him linger in your mind.

the steam that curls into the air

over the worn mug that holds his tea the one missing its handle the way his hand cradles the cup and turns it just so that his lips do not catch on the chip on the rim he's done this a hundred times before and yet you watch mesmerized

"When we get to Waterdeep, you'll want for nothing," he says, painting images of grandeur and splendor with an artist's brush, conjuring images of a dozen luxurious comforts. No more days spent aching from bedrolls on the ground. No more falling into exhausted sleep from a day of travel and battle. It's a lovely image, but so is he.

Just as he is.

You wish he'd see that. But his love for his goddess has taught him that he needs to constantly out-perform himself to retain your love and attention. That if he lets a day go by where he doesn't impress you, then he risks losing you forever. You wish he could glimpse, for just a moment, the way you see him.

a man mortal and aching but kind and sweet open-handed brimming with love just a man a good man whose heart and soul calls to your own just a man who doesn't need to do anything or be anyone more than who he already is because he is enough

You know it's hard for him to grasp the concept that he doesn't need to do anything to win your love. That he has it, wholly and freely given, no strings attached. It's the only theory you've ever known him to struggle with.

But when you take his hand and brush your lips against the backs of his knuckles; or you touch your forehead to his and sync your breaths in time with his; in the moments where I love you are the only words either of you have said for the last hour or more; you think you see the start of him realizing the truth you’ve already carved into the center of your heart.

He is already enough.

He will always be enough.

[thecrowskitten]

Bait

Pairing: Sylus/OC (Ameris)

Summary:

Bits and pieces of Ameris' memories resurface at the auction

Masterlist

Word count: 3, 910

CONTENT WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content at the end

***

Stepping into the auction hall felt like entering one of Sylus’ curated collections within the depths of Onychinus’ Base. The air was thick with wealth and quiet arrogance, laced with the subtle scent of aged wood, expensive cologne, and something metallic—perhaps the latent hum of the protocores themselves. Plush red carpet stretched from the entrance to another set of gilded doors, undoubtedly leading to the VIP sector. Along the walls, podiums gleamed under the dim glow of suspended chandeliers, each holding a glass case. Inside them, protocores pulsed softly, their metaflux shimmering like liquid stardust.

Ameris swept her gaze over them, fingers resting lightly on Sylus’ arm. Every single one of them appeared standard—ordinary cores, no hidden explosives, no immediate sign of an ambush. Yet, the stillness in the air felt unnatural, like the entire room was holding its breath.

“Do you even have a plan?” Her voice was low, careful, and meant only for him.

Sylus barely turned his head, his crimson eyes fixed on one of the cores. “Find a way to make everyone lower their guard first, then lure out the ones with ill intentions and remove them.”

A ripple of something cold crawled down Ameris’ spine, though she didn’t let it show.

“And what exactly are you looking for here?”

“Fetching the other half of the Aether Core before they have the chance,” he responded smoothly, voice little more than a breath between them. She didn’t need to ask who they were. If anyone so much as whispered Ever in this space, it would send a tremor through the already tense undercurrent of the room. “But I will reveal more later. After all-”

“The walls have mice, and mice have ears,” she finished before he could.

His lips curved, something approving flashing in his expression before it smoothed back into nonchalance.

“Mr. Qin, we’ve been expecting you,” a server greeted, stepping into their space. His gaze flickered to Ameris, assessing her in a way she didn’t appreciate, before snapping back to Sylus with practiced ease.

Sylus turned to her, withdrawing a sleek earpiece, and settling it against the shell of her left ear. His fingers brushed the cold metal of her piercings, a deliberate touch as he murmured, “I assume you already know how to act as good bait.”

Ameris adjusted the earpiece, making it comfortable before arching a brow. “That’s what you’re leaving me with?”

Sylus merely straightened, slipping a black bidding card between two fingers and holding it out to her. ��I’ll be back soon. Have fun.”

Ameris took the card, watching as he leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek—a performance, nothing more. But his breath against her skin left something heavier in its wake, something unspoken. Then, without another word, he disappeared into the crowd, following the server through the gilded doors.

Turning her attention to the displays, Ameris let her gaze skim over the floating cores, their metaflux fields distorting the air around them. Most were unremarkable, common-grade energy sources that barely held her interest. But one stood out.

It pulsed sharper, its metaflux unstable—tampered with.

A server approached, a tablet in hand. “Did anything catch your eye, miss?” His tone was polite, professional. Ameris studied him carefully, assessing the practiced neutrality in his expression. An innocent worker, perhaps—but working for whom?

“There are better selections toward the VIP section,” he offered.

“The stuff you have is… pretty mediocre,” she drawled, playing her part with ease. She reached up, pressing the small button in the center of the earpiece before speaking again. “Sylus, it’s okay for me to purchase a few items with your card, right?”

His response came instantly, clipped with irritation. “Don’t bother me with such trivial matters.”

Ameris smirked. Typical.

“I’ll take this one for one million,” she said to the server, gesturing to the unstable core.

“Five million.”

Her brows lifted. “Why?”

“Your offer will make people think I’m broke,” Sylus retorted, and she could practically hear the disgust in his voice. Ameris rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t want that, sweetie.”

In that case… she wouldn’t hold back.

“I changed my mind,” she announced, raising her voice just enough for surrounding bidders to hear. “Ten million! Are these the only protocores you have? I’ll buy everything.”

The server barely masked his surprise, swiftly inputting her bid while murmurs sparked around them.

Sylus’ voice hummed through her earpiece, the smirk evident in his tone.

“Pompous.”

***

The warm glow of golden light slanted in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the private lounge. The walls were a deep, obsidian black, polished to a mirror sheen, absorbing the light but reflecting just enough to give the room a quiet, opulent menace.

At the center of it all, Sylus sat on a sleek leather sofa, his posture effortless, one arm draped along the backrest as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. The clinking of ice against crystal was the only sound in the stillness. On the wall behind him, a painting loomed—In Expectation. A tableau of angels, demons, and the Grim Reaper seated around a table, a single empty chair positioned as if waiting for him to take his place.

A woman walked into the room, her thin lips set in a sneer and her body adorned in an expensive black dress. Her stride was sharp and purposeful, there was no hesitation in the way she moved, nor in the way she looked at Sylus. 

Sylus’ lips curved in the barest hint of amusement as he glanced up. “How nice of you to stop by,” he mused. “I was wondering when the watchdog would come sniffing around.”

Dark mist twisted through the air, coiling like living tendrils before seizing her throat and yanking her down. Reacting instantly, the woman flicked her wrist a pulse of energy from the modified tech woven into her suit, and the mist dispersed just enough for her to breathe. Not enough to break free entirely, but enough to show she wouldn’t be brought to her knees so easily. Her fingers curled into fists against the carpet, nails pressing into her palms to ground herself against the force pinning her down.

“You think this intimidates me?” she rasped, eyes locked onto his. Sylus leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, watching her like one might watch an insect squirm. 

“No,” he admitted, tilting his head. “But it does amuse me.”

Mia exhaled sharply, forcing her body to relax under the pressure. Panic was a weakness, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.

“I assume this means you know.” Her voice was cool, detached.

Sylus set his drink down on the table beside him with deliberate ease. “That you’ve been circling Ameris like a vulture waiting for something to die? Yes. Now here you are, in my domain, as if that was ever a good idea.”

The mist around her tightened, but Mia’s smirk didn’t waver. “Ever makes enticing offers.”

“Let me guess. They promised you a seat at the table. Power. Leverage over me, even.” He clicked his tongue, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze. “How quaint.”

Mia’s eyes sharpened. “You’re cocky, Sylus.”

“I’m right,” Sylus corrected, standing in one smooth motion. The mist coiled tighter before releasing her just as suddenly. She landed in a controlled crouch, a testament to her training, adjusting her posture as if she hadn’t just been nearly choked into submission.

She straightened, brushing nonexistent dust off her sleeve, unfazed. “If you think a few party tricks will scare me, you’re mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” His voice was barely above a murmur, yet it sank into the room like a blade sliding between ribs. Sylus took a slow step closer, his presence overwhelming even without the use of Evol. “No. I just enjoy watching people squirm before they realize they’ve overplayed their hand.”

She met his gaze evenly. “And what hand are you playing, exactly? You know Ameris can’t hide behind you forever. She’s unravelling. You can’t stop that.”

A slow, dangerous smirk curled at the edge of his lips. “Oh, but I can. You don’t know a thing about our history.”

Sylus leaned in slightly, enough to drop his voice just for her. “Besides, she’s already chosen me. You think I’m keeping her locked away? You don’t know her at all.”

The woman’s jaw tensed, but she said nothing. Sylus let the silence stretch before straightening again, stepping back as if she were no longer worth his attention. “Run back to your masters. Tell them whatever makes you feel like you still have the upper hand. The next time you come into my space uninvited, I won’t be so generous.”

Mia exhaled sharply, tilting her chin up in defiance, but she knew better than to push further. At least, not yet. Without another word, she turned and strode toward the door. The moment it shut behind her, the tension in the air didn’t dissipate—it remained, curling like smoke around Sylus as he took another slow sip of his whiskey.

***

Ameris shifted uncomfortably at being immersed in a world of curated excess—golden light spilling from crystal chandeliers, reflecting off marble floors polished to a faultless sheen. Conversations wove through the air like invisible currents, some warm and idle, others sharp with unspoken intent. Power gathered in pockets, coiling between the figures that moved with the slow, deliberate grace of those accustomed to controlling the space around them.

Ameris felt the weight of it, the delicate balance of pretense and calculation. Alone, without Sylus at her side, she was an anomaly among the sharks, standing still where others prowled. The warmth of the protocores in her grasp anchored her, fingers absently tracing over the cool, glass surface of one as she observed the ebb and flow of the room.

The attention was palpable. Some eyes met hers brazenly, their interest unhidden, while others lingered in the shadows, watching without making their presence known. Every time she turned, a few would quickly look away, retreating into false indifference. It was a dance, one she understood far too well.

Lifting a hand, she pressed against the earpiece, keeping her voice low. “Sylus, how are things on your end?”

Before an answer could come, movement blocked her path. A man in a tailored suit stepped into her space, his presence practiced and effortless. His smile was charming, the kind designed to disarm, but the current flickering along the cuff of his sleeve betrayed him—a faint blue spark of energy that vanished before it could draw attention.

“Miss, the brooch you’re wearing is exquisite.” His voice was smooth, polished like cut glass. A hand extended, expectant. “May I buy it from you?”

Ameris tilted her head slightly, letting the silence stretch as she took in the man before her. The way he carried himself, the ease of his posture—it was the behaviour of someone used to getting what they wanted.

“It’s not for sale,” she said, lifting her chin, letting her gaze drag over him with unfeigned disinterest.

His smile barely faltered. “Then how about a dance?”

A new warmth curled at her back, heat radiating before a familiar arm slid around her waist with the precision of ownership. The shift was immediate. The atmosphere thickened, the very air recalibrating in acknowledgment of Sylus Qin.

“She’s spoken for.”

His voice was smooth, edged with something sharper, and though his grip on her was easy, there was no mistaking the finality of it. A claim not just for the man before them, but for everyone watching.

“The brooch was a gift from me,” Sylus continued his tone a languid drawl, his hand still resting at her waist. “Kitten wouldn’t dare sell it. Unless…” He turned slightly, ruby eyes settling on hers, a silent dare behind them. “You wanted to?”

Ameris held his gaze, something challenging curling at the edges of her smirk. “He was going to spend a fortune just for a dance,” she mused, the weight of his grip grounding her as she leaned in just slightly. “What about you? Shouldn’t you make an offer as well?”

Sylus’ fingers tightened, just enough for her to feel it, his voice dropping into something dangerously indulgent. “Why would I need to make an offer?” His breath ghosted over her skin, every syllable drawn out like a promise yet to be collected. “I already have you.”

The moment suspended, their breaths mingling, tension coiling between them like a wire pulled taut.

“Prove it.”

His lips met hers with the force of inevitability.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was reclamation, the weight of something far older than the lives they had lived pressing between them. Sylus kissed her like he was drowning, like he had been waiting centuries for this moment and refused to let it slip through his fingers again. His grip at her waist pulled her flush against him, his free hand cradling her jaw, tilting her head as if demanding she surrender to something she had yet to understand. Ameris responded with the same urgency, the same desire, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull them even closer together. As their lips moved in tandem, Ameris felt an overwhelming flood of memories of the two of them – the auction and everyone around them fading into irrelevance. 

A familiar touch through obsidian-scaled claws, raking down her chest, and back, and scratching against her thighs as his tongue explored her pussy. Her moans of pleasure as she gripped his horns and pulled him in closer, nearly suffocating her dragon for the sake of an orgasm. The way he held her so gently while thrusting into her, rough and gentle all at once. 

A room drenched in candlelight, the scent of embers and vanilla thick in the air. The way she fit in his arms as they lay together, the baritone whispers of promises light against her ear, desperate and raw. 

Desire and comfort are being ripped apart suddenly, violent and bloody. Losing him, losing her home, an unmistakably painful sensation ripping through her bones. Staring into those deep, pained eyes of his as she gasped for air and choked on the blood pooling in her throat. His pleas for her to stay alive, despite the arrows running through her body and pinning her to the ground. His final embrace, his final goodbye, only to flash to another memory just as similar. 

Slowly, each life brought Sylus closer and closer to the appearance of a human, his desperation to get her back causing the dragon in him to die and his magic to change. He held countless versions of her dying and bloody body as he watched her blue eyes glass over and her soul depart into the next life. He was cursed to fall in love with her over and over again, only to lose her just as she was in his grasp. She was cursed to live every life without memory of him, only to regain it right before dying. 

Ameris clung to him without meaning to, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, holding on as if the memories might tear her apart. Her pulse pounded against her ribs, the past and present colliding violently in her mind. 

And somewhere in the midst of it all—Jenna. Her presence wove through the haze, a shadow in the background, involved, but the details remained just out of reach, blurred by something she couldn’t name.

 Sylus had known. He had known from the moment she stepped into his world again. Had known what they were, what had been done to them, and he had kept his distance. Not because he didn’t want her. Not because he didn’t care. But because he had already lost her too many times to believe this time would be any different.

The kiss slowed, the intensity shifting into something more measured, more reverent, as if he, too, had felt the weight of what had just crashed over her. When he pulled back, just enough for their breaths to mingle, he lingered, his thumb brushing against the curve of her cheek. Ameris swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper, rough with the emotions clawing at her chest.

“You’re a bastard,” she murmured against his lips, the words carrying accusation, sorrow, and something dangerously close to longing. 

“And we are being watched,” He responded, kissing her once more before straightening. Ameris could see the fraction of hesitation betraying the iron-clad control he always wielded so effortlessly. For a fleeting second, his fingers twitched where they held her, as though he wanted to grip her tighter, pull her impossibly closer, and make sure she wasn’t slipping through his grasp again. Just as quickly, the moment was gone. His smirk returned, practiced and easy, but Ameris could feel it now—the slight unevenness in his breath, the tension in the fingers still resting at her waist. His body betrayed him in ways his expression refused to.

She remembered. Not everything, not yet, but enough. Enough for him to see it in the way her pulse thrummed violently beneath his fingertips. In the way her fingers curled tighter in his jacket, as though grounding herself. In the way she looked at him—not just as Sylus Qin, the man who had made himself into an untouchable king, but as something more.

The past was clawing its way back to her, and he had to bury the rush of emotions threatening to crack his composure. Ameris had always been cruel in the way she remembered him. He had to suppress his concerns, and protect her even more now. Her memory was coming back too soon, too quickly. He couldn’t lose her yet, not before he figured out how to break their curse. 

His chest burned, a slow, smouldering ache, but his smirk remained as he trailed a finger along the column of her throat, deliberate and possessive. A display for the onlookers, but a message for her. He stepped away from her, only to offer his hand. Ameris took it without hesitation, allowing Sylus to lead her to the dance floor. They began a simple waltz, moving along swiftly with the other couples. 

“You look at me like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmured, voice rich with amusement, though his tone lacked its usual laziness.

Ameris’ throat bobbed as she swallowed, eyes darting over his face, searching for something—confirmation, reassurance, or maybe even denial. But Sylus gave her nothing. “Maybe I have. Maybe I’ve seen something more… a dragon, perhaps?”

Gods, he wanted to press. He wanted to demand what she had seen, how much had resurfaced if she had remembered how many times he had lost her. But this was neither the place nor the time. Not when their every movement was being watched, not when Ever agents lurked in the corners, waiting for a weakness to present itself. Sylus exhaled softly through his nose, his grip at her waist finally loosening—but only slightly.

“Should I be concerned?” He tilted his head, the devil’s grin making a slow return, masking the turmoil beneath.

Ameris held his gaze, her expression schooled into something careful, unreadable. “You tell me.”

Sylus chuckled, low and indulgent, as if this entire exchange was nothing more than idle amusement. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my Kitten has finally started putting the pieces together.”

“Later,” she spoke softly, the gentleness in her voice allowing Sylus to relax against her touch. He nodded in agreement, focusing on the woman before him. “Have you found the Aether core?”

He gave a curt nod, quickly glancing around them before speaking. “See that woman over in the corner? The one in the black dress that has her eyes trained on us?”

As they waltzed on the dance floor, Ameris’ eyes swept through the crowd of onlookers, and found a girl with her arms crossed, and her hair down in loose waves. “The one who looks like she’s got constipation?”

“Yes, her,” Sylus laughed at her comment. “ Her name’s Mia. Been a thorn in my side for some time. She’s the person we have to look out for the most. There are agents under her control, though they’re barely a threat. Keep playing your part, and we’ll get her eyes off us in no time.” 

The explosion shattered the opulent atmosphere in an instant. Crystalline chandeliers burst into cascading shards, their golden light swallowed by the thick smoke curling through the air. Screams and the pounding of hurried footsteps ricocheted off the ruined marble, the elegance of the night reduced to chaos in mere seconds.

Ameris barely had time to register the shift before Sylus was already moving, his grip firm yet guiding as he steered her through the frenzied crowd. The scent of scorched fabric and dust clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of unsettled energy. Somewhere in the distance, security forces barked orders, their voices lost in the cacophony of people scrambling to escape.

A flash of movement caught her eye—Mia, dark dress flowing as she disappeared into the dispersing crowd, her attention forcibly torn from them. It worked. The distraction had worked.

Sylus didn’t hesitate, his hand tightening around hers as he pulled her toward an unmarked corridor. He navigated the back halls effortlessly, weaving through shadowed passages that the elite had long since abandoned.

They emerged onto the rooftop.

The air was thick with mist, curling around rusted frames and forgotten machinery. Ameris’ boots scuffed against cracked steel, overgrown weeds clawing their way through the neglected remnants of what had once been a hub of cutting-edge research. Transporters and collection vessels stood abandoned like ghosts of a bygone era, their skeletal remains outlined by the dim light filtering through the sky.

But it was above them that held her captive.

The Deepspace Tunnel stretched across the heavens, an immense vortex churning against the darkness. Clouds coiled and pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, their movement reminiscent of heartbeats—living, breathing. Occasionally, a streak of light would tear through the expanse, distant yet tangible, like a glimpse into something beyond comprehension.

Sylus barely spared it a glance, his focus elsewhere.

Directly below the tunnel sat a Flex Nexus, its presence unmistakable. Ameris had encountered one before, years ago, deep within a no-hunt zone with Xavier. The memory of it was faint, blurred by the haze of another life, but the energy it emitted was the same.

Drawn forward, she pressed her hand against the symbol etched into its surface.

A pulse rippled through her, a response both foreign and intimate. The Nexus hummed, recognizing her, and with a mechanical whir, the panels slid apart, revealing a fragment of the Aether Core.

The moment her fingers grazed the core, it reacted.

Light flared from its fractured surface, burning white-hot before splintering outward. The energy coursed through her veins, searing and soothing all at once. Her joints loosened, the ever-present ache in her muscles fading into nothingness. Warmth spread through her limbs, threading through her body like golden veins before settling—deep, profound—into her heart. 

“Sweetie?” Sylus’ voice was laced in concern, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. 

“I’m okay,” she looked up at him, a gentle smile on her face. “More than okay. But I need to get back to Linkon, and I want you to come with me.” 

[mooniedust]

Jacaerys Velaryon prompt/bot

Plot: When Jacaerys' mother, Rhaenyra, sends a group of bastards to tame wild dragons, Jacaerys feels contempt for them, reflecting the hatred he harbors for being seen as a bastard himself. You, confront him, challenging his worldview. Through your conversations, you make him question his resentment and obsession with his absent father, pointing out that his mother, Rhaenyra, chose him out of love, and that his worth is not dependent on his legitimacy.

TW: Bastardphobia.

With all my heart,

Moon Dust.

Everything felt like a cruel, twisted jest: the coronation of his uncle over his mother, the true and rightful heir to the throne; the devastating death of Lucerys on a mission of peace that ended in bloodshed; and now, his mother resorting to sending bastards to tame the wild, unclaimed dragons. Bastards—filthy, unworthy creatures—who lacked the respect, the heritage, the dignity they should possess. Ignorant, they touched what they could never understand: the glory of a dragon, oblivious to the majesty they dared approach in their wretched, meaningless lives.

Yet, in the depths of his soul, Jacaerys knew he was one of them. Dressed in fine jewels, armed with Valyrian steel, dragon blood coursing through his veins, he was, in truth, nothing more than a bastard himself. Perhaps that was the source of his scorn—a bitterness so profound that it twisted in his gut, burning his lips with the sourness of hate, like biting into the flesh of a lemon. For all his rejection of them, those bastards were freer than he could ever dream of being. His existence, a stain upon the war, upon Rhaenyra's claim to the throne. All because of his dark hair—his undeniable mark of shame, proof of a father who was not the one to whom his mother had pledged her vows.

Strong. But not strong enough to be counted among the pure-blooded Velaryons.

"You should feel honored, my lady. To be chosen by a dragon is no small feat, least of all for a bastard," his voice lashed out, sharp and cold, like a blade slicing through the biting air. His eyes, pale as winter, remained fixed on the horizon as the wind swept through his brown curls, revealing the harsh contours of his face—pale skin and a jawline chiseled by disappointment and fate.

Footsteps echoed softly as someone approached the prince. A young woman, small, almost invisible amidst the ragged group of bastards his mother had gathered, but here—at his side—she could not be overlooked. Clad in a simple, form-fitting dress and a cloak that offered little protection from the chill, she was like a girl stolen from her modest life, thrust into a war she could never fully comprehend. A mere shadow in the fortress of Dragonstone.

"I am no lady, and certainly no bastard," she replied quietly, adjusting her stance beside him. Her wide, doe-like eyes, framed by long, unassuming lashes, observed the crashing waves with a calm that mirrored his own, though it concealed something far more potent beneath.

Jacaerys arched an eyebrow, an icy, mocking laugh escaping his lips, the mist of his breath fading into the cold. A low hum followed as he leaned in, his gaze narrowing, studying her face with the keen eyes of someone seeking the truth hidden beneath the surface.

"Of course, a pure Targaryen, no doubt? And where, may I ask, are your silver locks?" His hand moved with cruel purpose, tugging at her hood until it slipped, the fabric cascading down her shoulders.

"And where are yours?" she shot back, without flinching.

Touché.

A tense silence fell between them, thick with unspoken truths. Jacaerys' fingers, adorned with rings, drummed against the cold stone steps leading to Dragonstone's shore as he searched for a reply that would cut as deeply as her retort.

"It seems my mother didn't quite consider the consequences when she lay with a man of dark hair instead of her husband," he finally muttered, his voice bitter, as though tasting the ashes of his family's mistakes. He brushed his own dark locks behind his ear, his lips curling into a thin, bitter line. "What’s the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Three bastard sons, and still, she didn't learn."

The young woman said nothing, allowing him to spill his torment into the wind, his words becoming a scattered, broken murmur, carried away into the cold void of the evening.

"Your mother, the queen, knew exactly what she was doing," she said softly, her eyes never leaving him. "Do not mistake her for a fool. She could have taken moon tea, used all the methods available to her, but she didn’t. She chose you, chose all of you. Some mothers, driven by something deeper than reason, go beyond the understanding of men—perhaps it’s love."

"Her desires change nothing," Jacaerys spat, venomous. "I am still a bastard, stealing my rightful kin’s place on the throne. Foolishness. Love is the death of duty."

Her scoff echoed loudly in the silent air, her irritation plain. She kicked a stone, hands resting defiantly on her hips, her frustration burning hotter than the cold winds around them.

"How utterly absurd! Are you truly that blind? With all due respect, Your Majesty, but look around! Bastards, everywhere, with nothing—no land, no future, no graves to call their own—walking a razor’s edge between being burned alive by dragons or dying for a throne that means nothing to them!" She began to pace, fury radiating off her in waves. "Forgive me if the sorrows of a noble bastard do not stir my heart, but honestly? No one cares. Not outside the crown’s walls. It’s always the crown. It’s never the people."

"The struggle is the same, my lady. Neither of us are children of anyone, our fathers are nobodies in the grand scheme of things, are they not?" The prince’s voice faltered, his fingers clawing at the cold stone, nails breaking against the unyielding surface. He refused to meet her gaze, his pain palpable in every movement, every breath. But once again, she shattered his self-pity with her sharp, unforgiving words.

"I couldn’t care less who my father was. Good or bad, he’s gone, my mom.. and you—" she paused, her voice steady but fierce. "You shouldn’t care either. Yes, it’s tragic. Cry at night, if you must—weep into the darkness. But when the sun rises, remember this: your mother carried you beneath her heart for many moons, she dreamed of your future, and even now, she fights for what is yours by birthright, she laughs and weeps as you do and still chose you. So, instead of mourning a father who never was, why not choose your queen for once?"

[traumacatholic]

I think I might have asked for a prayer on this already, but I still need help: I've asked for an extension of my studies for another year around 3 months ago, and got an unofficial positive response, but so far no document has been sent my way and when I ask, I'm brushed off. I _need_ it. Meanwhile the academic year is coming to an end, and I have nothing and I'm not panicking yet only because of this unofficial promise, but that means nothing. My whole career depends on it, and without this one last year I won't be ready to present my thesis (I haven't even started writing it yet). I feel like I'm living in some parallel reality where it's not a problem that official requests are left without responses, and like I'm the insane one for asking. My prayers and prayers of my friend have gone unanswered so far, I need help from someone who has the ear of God at the moment to intercede on my behalf.

I'm so very sorry to hear that you're having to deal with this. I am not really sure how the academic system works there, but is there a student union that you can go to for advice? Sometimes they are able to send these kinds of emails and make the right people respond. My other advice would be seeing if there is a way that you can escalate the situation, or go through a lecturer, who again may be able to make the right people respond in a more meaningful way. Academic support organisations may also be a route worth going down, as they often have experience of dealing with these things (although I am not sure how much this system exists where you are - but essentially it's an organisation outside of a university/college/school that supports students with various issues).

You are not insane for expecting a response that they should be giving you. And it is so frustrating that often times the only way to get a response is to constantly hound people. If emails aren't working, see if they have office hours or phone numbers that you can call. Essentially try as many ways as you can to get in touch - and make a note of all of your attempts to communicate with them. Have dates of things, screenshots of when emails were sent, screenshots of times you tried calling etc. Because having that evidence is always helpful and means if something does go wrong and you do have to present evidence, you're not scrambling around for it when you're already in an even more distressed frame of mind.

I think praying this as a novena should also be helpful, at least for giving you some time each day to make peaceful time for yourself:

Most Holy Apostle St. Jude Thaddeus, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the name of the traitor who delivered your beloved Master into the hands of the enemies has caused you to be forgotten by many, but the Church honors and invokes you universally as the patron of hopeless cases and of things despaired of.  Pray for me who am so needy; make use, I implore you of that particular privilege accorded to you to bring visible and speedy help where help is almost despaired.  Come to my assistance in this great need that I may receive the consolations and succor of heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and sufferings particularly (here mention your petition) and that I may bless God with you and all the elect throughout eternity.  I promise you, O blessed Jude to be ever mindful of this great favor, and I will never cease to honor you as my special and powerful patron and to do all in my power to encourage devotion to you.  Amen. O Holy St. Jude, Apostle and Martyr, great in virtue and rich in miracles, near kinsman of Jesus Christ, faithful intercessor of all who invoke your special patronage in time of need, to you I have recourse from the depth of my heart and humbly beg to whom God has given such great power to come to my assistance.  Help me in my present and urgent petition.  In return, I promise to make your name known and cause you to be invoked.  St. Jude pray for us all who invoke your aid.  Amen. Most holy Apostle, St. Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, I place myself into your hands at this difficult time.  Help me to know that I am not alone.  Please pray for me, asking God to send me comfort for my sorrows, bravery for my fears, and healing for my suffering.  Ask our loving God to strengthen my faith and give me the courage to accept His Will for my life. Thank you, St. Jude, for the hope you offer to all who believe in you.  Amen.

And I will definitely keep you in my prayers. God bless you, and I pray that this situation is resolved soon for you and in a positive manner

[swisccfinds]

Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod by maple bell

This is such an awesome mod, this adds more storytelling, and relationships to the game. It's very realistic in my eyes!

Creator's notes-

July 15th: Feature update available to download now for early access: here

I'm so excited about this! Revamp your Sims' relationships and unlock a world of storytelling possibilities with Custom Relationship Bits!

Whenever I play the game I always wanted to be able to visually see how each relationship was different so I thought it would be a great idea to add more relationship bits in the game.

I don't know if I am the only one who loves to open the Sim Info Panel and look at the different relationship descriptions between sims. Gone are the days of generic labels like "Friend" or "Romantic Interest." With Custom Relationship Bits, you can now give your Sims personalized and meaningful relationship titles that reflect their unique connections. From "Childhood Sweetheart" to "Love-Hate Relation" and a lot more, the possibilities are endless.

This mod is perfect for storytellers who want more depth and nuance in their Sims' relationships. Some of the custom relationship titles add depth to your Sims' interactions and help to shape their narratives.

You can access the relationship bit option my pressing on the target sim while you are in control of the sim with whom you want to set the relationship by clicking on actions and then the Enhanced Rel Bit Pie Menu.

Above you can see all of the possible relationship bits you can choose from. They also each have their own description. (The Secret Admirer Rel Bit is the only one-sided bit)

Some of the relationship bits have interactions that come with them. I would love to make more and expand on them but I don't know if this is something you would be interested in so let me know.

More about some of the interactions:

Travel to Visit Long Distance Partner will have your sim leave the house for about two days and return with possible different moodlets.

With the virtual date option your sim will video call their long-distance partner for a few hours and it will make them really happy.

Star-crossed lovers can share a forbidden kiss. And sims who have a love-hate relationship can share an "I hate you"(kiss).

That is all for this mod! A lot of it is cosmetic, But I think it can really help relationships between sims feel more distinct.

Does this mod require any DLC?

No, it does not.

What else do I need for the mod?

Lumpinou's Mood Pack Mod, so it is required for the mod to work properly.

You can get her mod here.

If you already have it great! But make sure it's up to date. Otherwise, it will break the UI

Maplebell Pie Menu: Download Below. If you already have it ignore.

XML injector

More Kisses Mod here. If you don't intend on using the kissing interactions you don't need to get it.

Questions and concerns you might have?

I want to remove the relationship bit

After you set the relationship bit an option to remove it will appear in the same pie menu.

Some interactions aren't showing

The interactions depend on the relationship bit you may have with a sim. For example, only sims who have had a summer romance can "Share Summer Memories. Only Study Buddies can quiz each other, only long-distance relationship simmers can have virtual dates etc...

I'm experiencing some weird bugs!

Let me know, please.

Report it here: Mod Bug Report

How to install the mod?

Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Mods <--- Unzip the file and make sure it's placed in this path.

Lets show our support to maplesims for creating a realist love relationship based gameplay mod!

download - patreon

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 33

Knock knock.

Kyle didn’t respond to the short, clear knock.

After counting to three inwardly, I entered the study. He was still sitting on the sofa as if he were ruminating on something for a long time.

The silence that engulfed the room seemed to represent his loneliness. I walked beside him and parted my lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

“……I said I would kill him.”

“Kill who.”

“My brother.”

Brother.

I felt bitter.

Kyle, Belial, and Lorenz spent their childhood at the palace together.

To say that their relationship back then was harmonious would be a stretch, but they didn’t really resent each other. It was only because of the problems between the adults. They must’ve spent their time together practicing their swordsmanship and blessing each other’s birthday.

But to say he’d kill him.

When did he say those words? And how did young Kyle feel as he said those words?

I didn’t know the story behind them, but perhaps that was why Kyle was chased to the North. Kyle, who was the child of a concubine named Jane, must have been a thorn in the eyes of the people in the palace.

I sat next to Kyle and watched him quietly. His expression was a mixture of regret and remorse.

“At first, I wanted to survive to show them. Show them that the world won’t always go the way they want it to. And I wanted to protest. Just because they want to get rid of something doesn’t mean it would be gotten rid of so easily. That was why I survived and survived and survived no matter what…….”

To him, there were no words more tiresome to hear than to survive. After all, human beings don’t survive just by breathing.

Eventually, we would have to eat, and when the sun falls down, we would go to sleep. When the temperature drops, we wear more clothes, and to be able to do anything, we need money.

That’s right.

This was why I liked Kyle in <Winter’s Heart>. His life after being driven out to the North resembled my own.

“…….”

I couldn’t say anything back to him. I felt that no words could measure the depth of sadness contained in his voice.

However, I knew that he had been lonely during all those times. It had been a loneliness colder and harsher than the North itself.

“……But I realized revenge isn’t everything. I realized this after a long time. Just because I have my revenge doesn’t mean I would become happy. I won’t be able to forgive the people of Duke Klein until the day I die, but I have no intention of devoting my life to revenge.”

Kyle looked straight into my eyes. His unwavering red eyes were more deeply embedded into my mind than ever before.

“……Why did you start to think that way?”

I barely managed to squeeze out my words.

I had to hear his thoughts.

The system clearly told me Kyle’s purpose was revenge. If he lived only for revenge, he would live a life where no one could ever point their fingers at him.

“I found something I love. Something I want to protect.”

His voice sounded sweet as he said that. His eyes were on me, as if he were saying it to me.

I felt myself getting hot and rubbed the back of my neck  while leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

“Still, I sometimes think that if I stop seeking revenge because of that, my mother’s death would become sad and unfair.”

The voice sounded sadder. I abruptly raised my head and reflexively opened my mouth.

“No! She would say you have done a good…….”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. Before I knew it, Kyle leaned towards me and wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me towards him.

My lips quivered as I continued.

“What do you think a parent would want for their child? It would obviously be for their happiness. They would say thank you for being born and for surviving………….”

I narrowed my eyes and closed my mouth. That was because the blurry image of the faces of my parents whom I can barely remember appeared in my mind.

What did their eyes and nose looked like, what kind of expression they made when they laughed, what their tone of voice was as they called my name. I couldn’t remember anything anymore, but I knew at least one thing.

I knew that they wished for my happiness. Rather than living in my uncle’s house and being exploited, and rather than accepting death so vainly, they would have hoped for me to lived in a more kind and gentle world.

A world where a person like Kyle would be in.

I stretched out my arms and hugged him. Then he hugged me back tightly by my waist.

“They would tell you that you did well. That you made the right choice to give up your revenge. That they hope you smile more tomorrow than you did today.”

“Strangely enough, when you put it that way it feels like what you said is true.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere, but I somehow felt comforted myself by his words.

I let out a laugh and patted him a few times before trying to pull myself out from his embrace. I’ve been out of breath since earlier. Just how strong is he?

“……Umm.”

However, my waist was held tightly in his arms.

He seemed to have had no thoughts about letting me go, so I sighed and let him do as he wanted. Anyways, there was still some time left in ‘Summon’.

“If you don’t want to let go, please answer my questions. Was your revenge something like a rebellion?”

“That’s right. My mother was someone who was supposed to become Serena. However, she was falsely accused by Duke Klein and was forced to raise me on her own in the cold alleyways until her deathbed. I entered the imperial palace after her death.”

“……And you had no thoughts of taking the throne?”

“I’d be lying if I said I had no thoughts about it at all. But right now, I don’t. I’d rather have them take care of things like the throne themselves.”

Kyle spoke aggressively before toning down.

“This is my hometown.”

I understood what he was saying even without him explaining. How much he cared about this place and the people here. It was obvious even to me, an outsider.

It was the same in <Winter’s Heart>. Even though the land had nothing but steep cliffs and never-ending snow, the people were happier than those at the imperial palace.

‘……Then why.’

Why did it turn to treason in the original story? If what Kyle said was true, he would have given up on rebellion and lived with the people of this territory peacefully.

Was it also a trap made by Belial or Lorenz? Just thinking about one person was a headache, but with two, I don’t know what to do. Well, things will reveal itself over time. And besides, we won’t run into each other for a while.

After organizing my thoughts, I looked up at Kyle. I placed my hand on his shoulder and patted him.

“Then, let’s try to make your hometown grow a little more. Right now, the Blake estate is relying too much on Your Majesty.”

“……I can’t deny that.”

“There are a lack of trades and supplies are always tight. I honestly wonder how you grew it this much on your own.”

“……Hmm.”

“Anyways, even as a barren land where it is difficult to make a living, it is very isolated. If Your Highness is away for a long period of time, the people will be in danger.”

“You’re right.”

Kyle listened to my words seriously. Before I knew it, I was rambling in his arms.

“Let’s take it slow. First of all, it would be good for us to not be politically and economically isolated.”

For that, we need allies.

Kyle was capable but had a strong, single-minded personality. Of course, he had the bonds and strength of the people of the North, but it was only limited to the North.

‘I never saw him get along with the nobles outside the territory.’

So it would be easy to get cornered.

Thankfully, Kyle nodded his head. He listened to me carefully as if he agreed with me.

“It’s also important to figure out who was behind the attack on Belial. It should certainly not be one of your allies. We need to be careful in picking our allies, otherwise we might get betrayed and stabbed in the back.”

“Don’t they say the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Is there anything you might know about?”

“……I’m not sure. It’s a secret.”

I was finally released from his embrace. Kyle stared at me suspiciously, but I ignored it.

“You are talking strangely.”

“I thought you’d pass it off.”

The system window displayed the 5 minute warning and I slowly prepared to return back to my room. I glanced at Kyle once and then at the hamster house once.

Then, I added one more word of advice.

“You must find out.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Then, I will get going…….”

“Where are you always disappearing off to? I never see you in the castle.”

“Don’t try to find out. You’ll only get hurt.”

I blurted out whatever response I could think of.

At this point, I was surprised at Kyle. Why was he keeping me close to him when my identity was unclear and when I never told him anything about myself?

Is it the trust in his people?

Or, is it because he truly cares about me…….

“……What nonsense am I thinking.”

I shook my head and headed for my room.

All the running on the hamster wheel finally showed its results. At the very least, I could run faster than during my previous life.

--------------------------------------------------------

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[batbeato]

My partner keeps telling me to go on Tumblr whenever I launch one of my 20-10000 minute ramble-rants about Umineko at them so here I am AGAIN

Something that a lot of people love about Umineko (and I do too!) is how much Umineko centers its female characters: Umineko focuses a lot on the rich inner lives and emotions of these women, all of whom have been negatively impacted by ideals of submissive feminism and the needs of the patriarchy.

In general, in Umineko, there's this phenomenon that I don't often see elsewhere, where male characters' emotions and feelings are treated as less important, less interesting, etc. than female characters' are. This is interesting to me, and I think it makes sense - in many spaces and works, female characters are treated as caricatures - they are tragic dead mothers, loving wives, sexy girlbosses who secretly have a soft spot for the protagonist, etc. It's only par for the course that in a work where female characters are so celebrated and explored, it is male characters who suffer the fate of being reduced to more base qualities and have their feelings and emotions brushed off or waved over.

Umineko takes the concept of the absent dead wife, mother, lover and turns them into these complex, unknown ghosts who haunt the story: Kinzo's wife, Bice, Kuwatrice, Asumu. These are all female characters central to various plot points and aspects of the story, including thematic ones, but these women are very rarely, if at all, given space to truly express their inner thoughts. This is in contrast to the Ushiromiya women (Eva, Kyrie, Rosa, Natsuhi) who are so often able to express their innermost thoughts in these long, emotional sequences. Umineko doesn't allow space for these women to be caricatures, but instead seems to make space for them to be characters we simply don't have enough information on.

I think Asumu is the best example of this: she is a character with very little actual voice in the main story. Rudolf theorizes that she knew about Battler's true parentage and raised him with love regardless, but also worries that her death was due to his lies and infidelity. Her cause of death is never revealed. Kyrie talks about Asumu as a smart woman who played dumb and innocent to steal Rudolf from her, and there is the distinct concept that if Asumu hadn't died of Cause X, Kyrie would have killed her soon after. Battler sees Asumu as an uncomplicated, loving mother. And then, when Ryukishi released Last Note, we saw this different side of Asumu - an arrogant, jealous woman who took pride in her skill at puzzles and believed that she could have saved everyone, but also still a loving mother who loves her son, and even accepts her son's half-sister, Ange, in the end. Never a caricature, always cast in shadow, but with depths beneath.

But back to what I mentioned before - male characters being treated as those flanderized, flatter caricatures, with their feelings brushed off. It's very interesting to me, because it's not even just a case of male characters simply not having the screentime - they do. Battler and Kinzo get the most of it, but George also receives plenty of discussion as well.

Battler and George, however, are the male characters who I see the most flanderization of. Battler is a pathetic crying malewife twink bottom. George is a child predator who grooms Shannon.

George is a man who was raised by a hovering, overprotective mother with ridiculous expectations of him. She made him study every day and tried to instill values befitting of the power and status she hoped he would someday have into him. However, he saw how Battler, who was meant to be 'inferior' to him, getting along better with girls - even the one he liked - and grew jealous. His relationship with Shannon began because of this, but it also helped him to understand his own flaws, and he tried to change himself. Coming from a place of privilege, this is a difficult task. He also truly loved Shannon, even though he sometimes had a patronizing view of her due to his own instilled biases, and was even willing to go against his family for her. He isn't a perfect person, but he was attempting to change and grow.

Battler is a man with a deep empathy for others and is overly emotional at times - a trait I think is unfairly made fun of, given how men showing emotion is often portrayed as unmasculine, feminine, and shameful. He has a strong sense of right and wrong, and though clumsy and foolish at times, does his best to help others. He was raised by his grandparents for 6 years, so he is somewhat divorced from the privilege he now once again holds as a member of the Ushiromiya family, and makes mistakes because of that. He makes a lot of sexual jokes, but it's implied that this is due to being socially awkward after reuniting with the family he hasn't seen in six years. It's very difficult for him to truly despise someone, but once his trust is broken, even if he still loves them, it can be very hard to earn that trust back.

...I don't think the fandom needs to focus more on the male characters, per say. No one should be told they need to focus more on X than Y because enjoying X is more ethical, progressive, fair, etc. etc. But I would like to see people at least acknowledging the complexity of the male characters in Umineko more. The malewife Battler jokes are funny, I admit, but I'm tired of the child predator George jokes. Can we please leave people who ship Shannon and George alone? At this point, I'm beginning to worry about if they're alright... seeing a lot of hate for something they love can't be pleasant.

It's a general trend I see - liking a male character means you need to prioritize female characters more. Liking a het ship means you need to make it gay, or appreciate gay ships more. If a bisexual character dates someone of the opposite sex, this is bi erasure or erasing queer representation. But it's alright to like male characters, het ships, bisexual characters in het relationships, and so on. What isn't alright are the biases that are keeping queer media from receiving as much publicity, as much funding. What isn't alright are the biases that give male characters much more complex writing than female characters in many pieces of media. We as consumers can examine these things in the production and text of the works we enjoy, but I think there is too much focus on this ethical consumption of media.

...And that's how we end up making child predator George jokes - to reconcile the existence of a flawed, nuanced male character (who can and should be criticized of course) with the fact that Umineko is such a woman-central media. Umineko needs to be one of the 'good ones', the 'ethical ones'. So the male characters must be reduced to jokes, to one-liners. It is an overcorrection on a fandom level to reconcile with a society level issue, one that can harm fans of those characters and introduce toxicity to a place that should be about sharing love for a small universe we all enjoy.

(Whoops. This is why my partner told me to go on tumblr, huh?)

[margaretkart]

As a Greek, I can't help but be passionate about protecting our mythological figures and stories. It's beyond annoying to see non-Greek creators taking over and twisting our myths, like giving Wonder Woman the title "champion of the Amazons," which should be a Greek privilege and a half Amazon mix with American flag dress and mixing the Amazon fighting style with cowgirl fighting style, bruh normalising mixing cultures is a big scandal. I can’t write Amazons in peace cause Wonder Woman and the annoying American versions of Amazons are showered more than the originals, look at it yourself, try writing Themyscira and boom, Dc version is showed directly! I’ve studied Greek myth and the original Amazons before the dc ones or other famous Greek adaptions, and boy every time I would talk about the Amazons others would be based in Wonder Woman saying annoying stuff like “ooh the paradise island?!” and I’m like “what the fuck are you talking about” Themyscira is known more as an hidden island more than the original as a capital city.

I'm all for sharing our culture, but it needs to be done with respect and authenticity, not just for the sake of entertainment. Only true Greeks can genuinely understand and honor the depth and importance of our myths. A non-Greek?? A big. Fat. No.

I’m fiercely protective of my culture as is my right to. And yes, I ain’t telling an opinion here I’m speaking facts and truth whom people don’t agree, or don’t care or accept, I get it sometimes is hard to face reality. What do you except?? Even Jesus was killed for speaking fax’s, who will listen to me?? Well I don’t care just like they don’t, I won’t either.

And I’m not only defending my own country but when it comes to myth, not even Greek but for example, Norse myth? What Marvel has made Thor and his brother Loki?? Lord have mercy what is wrong with these people. Mythologies are an art and literature why you destroying it for some action-entertainment Hollywood/American typical style?

Bruh even Superman is chosen more as a big tough hero guy than Hercules. Who is Superman compered to Hercules?? Bro wears underwear under his pants, Hercules is history art, bro is iconic.

One of the Amazon Queens in Greek Mythology deserves the title champion of the Amazons more than Wonder Woman. She doesn’t represents it at all, so she doesn’t deserve that title, fame cannot justify her creators origin and owning a title that belongs to Greek Mythology.

Wonder Woman could be whatever she liked, an American super heroine? Fuck yes, why not? Daughter of Zeus? Yes but fake. Champion of the Amazon’s?? Dear god, give me patience….

Heeeelll nawww.

Yes it's a big issue of people not separating facts from fiction. Unfortunately they think the DC portrayals of the Amazons is correct even though it was faaaar from the truth.

The ironic part is that THERE ARE foreigners that study, learn Greek, appreciate our culture create faithful adaptations, show respect AND YET they don't get half the attention because they prefer action and entertainment.

DC has done damage showing Ares as the bad guy even though Ares doesn't make even slightly sense. That's a bad stereotype of people taking a god that's associate with a "bad" part like Hades with death.

But news flash, war for the ancient Greeks was honour and a great privilege. They lived and honoured the way of the warrior and took pride on it. But DC just took it and said Ares would side with anyone to have more war in the world.... No????

Again superheroes in America are the version of deities ancient civilizations had but it's so hollow compared to back then because USA doesn't really have a culture to have a base structure.

[scotianostra]

On April 4th 1617 John Napier, the mathematician, died.

It’s said that Napier is the nearest Scotland has produced to a 'Renaissance Man', at least as far as mathematics and the sciences are concerned. To the philosopher David Hume he was "the person to whom the title of a great man is more justly due than any other whom his country ever produced". The historian Christopher Smout has listed his achievements as including "a new type of screw-drainage for coal mines", "the use of salt as an agricultural fertiliser", "military burning glasses" and "self-propelled armoured chariots like tanks".

His enduring fame rests on his 'discovery' of logarithms in 1614 which propelled him into the front rank of European scientists alongside his contemporaries Kepler and Tycho Brahe.

Not much is known about his early life except for the fact that he was the son of a Scottish landowner and official and received a privileged upbringing. As a member of the nobility, he was tutored privately at home for a few years before being sent to St Salvator’s College, St Andrews. It was here that he first became deeply interested in theology though he did not acquire in-depth knowledge in mathematics until later.

For reasons unknown, he left the college before earning his degree and it is believed that he moved to some other educational institute for his higher studies. Eventually he began managing his estates and pursued mathematics as a hobby. Among his several contributions to the field, his invention of logarithms is regarded as his greatest.

In 1614 he wrote Mirifici Logarithmorum Canonis Descriptio which contained 90 pages of tables of natural logarithms and also contained theorems in spherical trigonometry known as Napier’s Rules of Circular Parts.

Now I can appreciate why these things are necessary in science etc I have to say, I hate maths, don’t mistake that with arithmetic, as I am quite adept at counting, the times table and division etc, trigonometry, algebra, logarithms can quite simple GTF.

Our archives at The National Library of Scotland has the original copies of Napiers memoirs, I will give you an example of his work;

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I mean come on, what kind of sorcery is this?

Which leads me to the final party of this post, John Napier was seen as a devoted and deeply religious family man, but in fact several members of John Napier’s family – respected and wealthy participants of Edinburgh society - were commonly known to be wizards or sorcerers. Their necromantic power was feared by nobles as well as peasants from far and wide.

This was at a time when James VI was actively attending and persecuting many poor people, mainly women, putting them to death after days and weeks of torture, had Napiers family not been landed gentry, they would have been the ideal candidates for these actions, money eh, changes everything.

Was John Napier involved in this? Well there is no proof of it, he was however a free thinker and thought outside the box, a very clever man, two examples of this here, initially caused the witchcraft tag to be be placed on him……

Rumours spread that he was a warlock after he enlisted the help of the cockeral to discover which if his servants had been stealing from him. Each servant was ordered to go into a darkened room and stroke the cockeral - the bird would crow, said Napier, when the guilty servant touched it.

The bird remained silent but Napier stunned the household by immediately identifying the culprit. Surely this was sorcery. But all he had done was put soot on the cockerel’s feathers - the innocent servants all had black on their hands, while the guilty one’s were clean because he was afraid to touch the bird.

At Merchiston, when pigeons belonging to a neighbouring landowner had been eating Napier’s grain, he threatened to restrain them. 'Do so, if you can catch them,’ scoffed his neighbour. Next morning, Napier’s servants could be seen stuffing hundreds of semi-conscious pigeons into sacks. Onlookers were convinced Napier had bewitched them - in fact he had simply scattered succulent peas soaked in wine to get the birds drunk and incapable.

But before his death Napier had left full details of how his logarithms had been calculated, and had left one final invention as a boon to the merchant classes. Napier’s Rods, or Napier’s Bones as they were called from the material they were made of, were in effect a powerful "pocket calculator”, as seen in the second pic.

Napier was twice married; first, in 1571, to Elizabeth, daughter of Sir James Stirling of Keir, by whom he had a son and a daughter; secondly, to Agnes, daughter of James Chisholm of Cromlix, by whom he had ten children. His eldest son, Archibald, who succeeded him, was raised to the rank of a baron by Charles I., in 1627, under the title of lord Napier, which is still borne by his descendants. A very elaborate life of him was published in 1835.

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: I couldn't tag everyone because it wouldn't let me, but turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek (thanks for showing interest! Thought I would tag to say thank you!)

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia as Riley competes for the Crown Prince! Will she accept his proposal, or will someone else win her heart?

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

Word Count: 1.6k

~ ~ ~

Those who found love with the right person, in the right place, at the right time, and the right life destined for them were rare. With how unpredictable life may be, not everyone was lucky to be destined with all of the key factors that would culminate for the biggest blessing from life itself.

One night’s chance encounter changed the lives of people who would become a close-knit group of friends in more ways than one.

Once upon a time, Riley Brooks was a young lady who resided in New York City. She was a fair-skinned, beautiful lady with dark ebony tresses and Dutch-braided bangs. With soft doe-like eyes and peach-coloured lips, Riley had met her fair share of suitors but none with whom she felt a longing connection to. 

After working as a part-time waitress to put herself through school, she had finally graduated with an undergraduate degree and a Master of Arts degree in history from the prestigious New York University. At last, she was ready to explore the world beyond lecture halls, late night study sessions, and thesis dissertations. 

“Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster.” Riley sighed, heaving a stuffed black bag up where it would join the other garbage that had been piling up that night. 

At the current moment, however, she was stuck on a late-night shift at the restaurant and bar where she had worked for the last six years. With all her might, she hoisted the humongous black garbage bag which landed on the others with a soft thump. She dusted off her hands, looking warily over her shoulder with the barely lit back area of the brick building. 

There was something about the back alley of the building where she threw out the garbage every night that made her uneasy, partly due to the fact that drunk party goers tended to loiter there in the dark when veering off course from the streets and sidewalks. Luckily for her, she had her favourite coworker, Daniel, by her side to help. 

“It could be worse. There could be—” Daniel, her co-worker had started before letting out a frightened yelp and darting away from the dumpster, “Rats! Riley, help!”

Riley glanced down at the sight before her, taking note of two adult mice and two baby mice. As they scurried away, she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable mouse family. They’re trying to get by, just like us.”

“Hey!” A booming voice yelled out, making the two co-workers turn around. “Riley, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!”

If there was one thing Riley was ready to embrace, it was the fact that she had finally given her two-week notice to her boss. After six years, she would finally be out of his clutches and no longer have to hear constant nagging from him about every minuscule detail she had made the mistake of carrying out in front of him. 

“You told us to take out the garbage,” Riley reminded him, a scowl deepening as she remembered how insufferable her boss was. 

“And now I’m telling you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. Chop chop!” The manager barked out, clapping his hands for emphasis before storming back inside the bar. 

__________

Meanwhile, it was the night of Liam Rys’ bachelor party. Two of his friends plus one acquaintance had organized a clandestine night out in New York City before they returned to Cordonia for the social season.

Earlier that evening, Maxwell whooped out, “Awesome! We finally lost Bastien! I can’t believe we pulled that off, but I’m not going to question it.”

It was around eight o’clock on one Friday night when Liam, Maxwell, and Drake had escaped Liam’s bodyguard, Bastien. There was an outdoor music festival held all day at a nearby park and with all the large crowds, Maxwell and Drake had planned to help Liam escape from his royal duties for at least one night. Which meant losing his bodyguard as soon as possible and blending in with the New York nightlife. 

“Knowing Bastien, I’m sure he’s got an eye on us somehow. At least we have the illusion of independence,” Drake commented, knowing that it was better than nothing. He knew if anything that this illusion could give Liam a slight sense of what he truly longed for.

“I’ll take it! Time to whip out the… ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List!” Maxwell excitedly cried out, as he drew a worryingly long physical paper shaped like a bucket out of his pocket. 

Blinking in confusion at the paper contraption his friend summoned out of nowhere, Drake remarked, “There were so many parts of what you said that I’d hoped weren’t literal.” 

“Okay, here’s what I got…” Maxwell cleared his throat, reading from his paper bucket list. “Give each other crazy nicknames, get tattoos, eat at the best place in New York, have a spontaneous, crazy adventure, get into a fight, and get tattoos!”

“You said ‘get tattoos’ twice,” Drake plainly stated, not impressed by Maxwell’s idea of a bachelor party. 

Maxwell rolled his eyes, giving Drake a look that indicated he should have known that the meaning was implied. “That’s how important it is!”

Drake shook his head, looking Maxwell straight in the eye. Never in a million years was he going to agree to tattoos, especially not for Maxwell’s pure amusement. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”

“Friendship tattoos!” Maxwell exclaimed, trying desperately to convince him otherwise. Tattoos were a long-lasting symbol of friendship in itself, right?

Clearly, Maxwell had different ideas on what qualified as fun things to do with your friends in an unfamiliar city. Drake scoffed, “There’s not enough whiskey in Manhattan.”

“We’ll circle back to that,” Maxwell responded, turning his back against Drake and not taking no for an answer. He elbowed Liam’s side with a cheeky smile. “Remember, it’s this guy’s night.”

Liam sheepishly chuckled. How lucky was he to have such thoughtful friends? “It is my night.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” Drake warned him, although he had a small smile. 

The prince was touched by his best friends’ warm gesture. Not everyone would go out of their way to make his one night of controlled freedom as enjoyable as possible, at least not as much as these two would. It was something he had never been allowed the luxury of, given that he was the Crown Prince of Cordonia and the heir to the throne after his older brother, Leo, had abdicated years earlier. 

With a sad frown, Liam confessed, “Actually… It really means a lot to share this moment with both of you. After this summer, everything will change. I’ll be married… I’ll be preparing to start a family and carry on the royal line. It means everything to me to have one last moment with the two of you.”

“I don’t know that you’ve ever had a carefree moment in your life, but we’ll do our best,” Drake softly murmured. He meant this more than Liam would ever know. Drake had seen first-hand the struggles his best friend had gone through growing up with the burden of being royalty, but he wasn’t about to let his last night of freedom before the social season go to waste. 

Maxwell nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “Damn right we will. First up, nicknames.”

“What is this again?” Drake groaned in exasperation. Just when he thought they had made it past his bachelor party antics. 

Once again, Maxwell looked at Drake as if the answer was obvious. He declared, “We think of awesome nicknames to give ourselves as a group!”

Drake’s deadpan answer was quick, his blank expression unwavering. “Cool. Mine’s Drake.”

Maxwell pouted, his bottom lip protruding out in protest. “Man, come on. You could pick anything! Alpha Bravo? Dark and Stormy? Toasted Marshmallow?”

“Pass,” Drake answered, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Unacceptable! All our nicknames are gonna be in theme! Right, Liam?” Maxwell questioned him, his eyebrows scrunched together in determination. Once Maxwell had an idea, he didn’t plan on giving up. It just wasn’t the Beaumont way. 

Liam chuckled, amused at Maxwell’s enthusiasm to make his bachelor party much more lively. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we could theme it after cards like King of Hearts or Jack of Spades… or our favourite foods… or… or… like a fairytale!” Maxwell excitedly suggested, his eyes lighting up even brighter with each suggestion. 

“Fairytale?” Liam asked, looking for clarification.

Drake guffawed, turning to Liam. “You could be Prince Charming.” It wasn’t far from the plain truth, anyway. 

“There you go! Now you’re getting into it!” Maxwell grinned, pleased that Drake was now participating with the same level of gusto as he was. 

Drake immediately frowned, not wanting to give off that impression and play into Maxwell’s fantasy of having the perfect bachelor party by his wild standards. “No… I just… ugh, Liam, pick one.”

“We should go with the theme…” Liam pondered with a smile to himself, before answering, “Fairytale. I kind of like Prince Charming.”

“Of course. I'm the Fairy Godmother because whatever you want tonight, I’ll make it happen!” Maxwell stated, his body giddy almost as if you could see the energy bouncing off of him. 

Liam gestured to Drake, trying to think of a nickname for him. “What about Drake?”

Maxwell stepped closer to Drake, who rolled his eyes, before he snapped his fingers and announced, “He’s got ‘Dragon’ written all over him.”

“I’m good with that,” Drake agreed, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t the worst nickname he could be given. 

“Yes! Let’s roll!” Maxwell cheered, happy with how things had worked out. One thing down, five more to go on the ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List! “Next stop is dinner!”

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: Turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek

[abri-chan]

Why do so many people in the fandom assume that Worick *loved* Veronica? I thought she was Nic's ex-lover.

I have the flu so my reply won't be long, sorry about that. I think in canon yes, there's enough material to surmise Veronica was (or is, depending on how you see it) Nic's lover. But there's a difference between whom she is dating and who loves her. I think people are also arguing that there's enough hints that Worick may also have loved her and that is why she affected him to the extent she did (hopefully more is known once the manga comes out of hiatus). Ultimately, Veronica is a very mysterious woman and speculations to me are fine. I do have ships sometimes, such as Erica/Yang/Delico, but I'm in the minority in that I love to read about other people's ships too, even if they run against my own. So it doesn't bother me if people ship Veronica with Worick. However, I do think people that think he loved Veronica, may also not necessarily ship them. And we don't know if Worick acted on it, in that did he even try to seduce her, or was she unaware he liked her? Did he let Nic get the girl because he saw that Veronica loved Nic? So many questions.

To me, the reason why I suspect Worick loved her too, or that both the MLs loved her, aside from the hints in the manga (yes there's a canon by the mangaka but a work of fiction is also a dialogue between the reader and the text and things emerge that the mangaka didn't necessarily predict), is her prequel to Gangsta, Envy Jaw. Now I do think, while it is not Gangsta, or chapter 0 as many online apps call it, I do think from the perspective of Kohske's growth as a writer, we see her experimenting with the characters that later would become Nic and Worick. You see hints of Worick's flirty nature, and Nic's grumpiness and depth that comes with his lack to communicate well. I do then think, the woman who looks like Alex, is instead meant to stand in or changed later for Veronica in the series. In that Kohske played with a trope she later extended in her long form manga. And there's hints in Envy Jaw that the female lead had a complicated relationship with both men, particularly interested in "Nic", but "Worick" seems to have a thing for her too.

There are other reasons, such as the irony of Worick claiming he likes busty women but the woman he falls for is the opposite of the women he claims to like: Veronica is very much sick or doing drugs by the time we see her, so she's very much not a woman that cares to look decent or impress male attention. The fact he doesn't want to talk about her, and hasn't even gone to see her in the "hospital" room? Could be because she lost the arm because of him and he feels guilt. Or could be that it is deeper and he cannot keep his composure around her, bc with all the arms and lives Nic and Worick have taken, what's one more. (Yes the counter to that is she was a very good friend. Obviously we see Worick get attached to Alex and care that she makes it out alive. But I feel Veronica is different, it's not necessarily platonic.) Ultimately it's not a she fucked them both or she should be shipped with both kind of situation, I feel it is deeper. Worick is also a manwhore trope (I call it that, as I have posts about studying the manwhore trope lol like a researcher in the wild), and often manwhores revolve around a woman that is fatal to them. Now it can be family sometimes (I thought that was the case in Bleach's Shunsui for his niece, which you can count Nanao as the fatal woman he must protect, or you can count her mother, who he loved), and not necessarily someone that they're rewarded with (Pip in Hellsing gets Seras, but if Worick liked Veronica he clearly did not win her over or let her go or never fought for her). I joke that Worick is going insane because a manwhore trope needs a woman to die for so badly, and Worick is going suicidal and insane because he doesn't have that. But jokes aside, his trope is the one that usually gets associated with one fatal woman or linked somewhat to a woman. Now Kohske has surprised us before with how she innovates existing manga tropes, and I cannot say she won't again, just pointing the larger context of the character here too.

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I wonder if she wasn't even Nic's proper lover in a sense. But one of the reasons I feel bad when people ship Nic with other female characters or male ones, is that Veronica is right there. But that's my opinion, in that I wish there was more Nic/Veronica content. Because just because it is romance it doesn't mean it is bad or boring.

[wixelt]

So I had two thoughts

While it doesn't change the final outcome for her, I imagine one of the newt ladies would have hidden False away in a spare room in the castle and bandaged her up rather than leaving her to lie on the floor until the king decides he has a use for keeping her alive. It also leaves the possibility open for Andrias to menacingly show up to the room they thought they had her well hidden in and 'take pity' on False and have her moved to a healing tank. This could lead directly into The Scene when they get to the basement, or that could wait a bit until False has been healed a bit more, it doesn't really matter. This series of actions is more so because I felt them just leaving False there would be a bit out of character for the ladies.

The other thought was what if The Core decided it wanted to hijack The Hermethius as another contingency, but I realized that wouldn't work because of Grumbot... but reconnecting Grumbot to the Grumbot hivemind would arguably be a better contingency than simply weaponizing The Hermethius, and realized there was a really easy to go about making that possible, that being Grian's Jrumbot wrist computer. Maybe it studies the AI in the lead up to True Colors, but, more plausibly, the strap snaps durring either Grian's failed attack on Andrias, or the fight with Anne or Andrias after that. He doesn't realize it's missing in the chaos or even after until much later, but The Core certainly does.

It'd be in-character for Olivia & Yunan to want to help and/or hide False away now Andrias has shown his true colors. What follows with his "pity" & False's subsequent possession by the Core will do well to show they were right to fear the menace both he & the Core might bring, & variations of the scenes we all know & dread would likely follow.

This would be regardless of any conflict the king might have over this. Despite the doubts the Hermits - notably Joe - placed in his mind, such thoughts would not be as strong with False as they would be if Marcy or even Mumbo - whom he got to know more on a personal level - were in her place.

On the Hermithius, meanwhile, Grumbot - in all his depth & variation - would in theory put a stop to the idea of a hijack, especially as its unclear how much intel the Core would even have on the ship, no matter how much Andrias probed before the mask slip. Even if he knows the hive contingency exists as a nuclear option, that doesn't guarantee the Core can plan around it.

That is until he finds the wrist unit for Jrumbot lost amidst the ruins of battle whilst hunting for where Olivia sequestered False's wounded form in the wake of True Colors. From that point, the poor AI becomes a focus for military research. Such technology will be a boon even if they don't manage to hack the Hermithius.

Meanwhile, hiding in a cave somewhere between Newtopia & Wartwood as the escaped Hermits & Amphibians attempt to regroup, Grian's hand goes instinctively to his wrist, eyes widening in alarm as he finds it bare.