#also the hidden part of several threads

[averalia]

A little much

Part 1// Part 2

| Pairings: Thomas Shelby X Reader, Platonic!Peaky Blinders x Reader

| Warning/s: mentions of abuse, smoking, Implied emotional abuse/neglect, PTSD symptoms, Discussions of self-worth, self esteem issues.

| Summary: After years of hidden trauma, you find unexpected solace and fierce protection in Thomas Shelby, the man you once viewed as your enemy.

The chill of the Garrison’s private room seemed to seep into your bones, a stark contrast to the oppressive warmth of your parents' home, yet both held you captive. You sat rigidly, hands clasped in your lap, eyes fixed on the flickering gaslight, trying to appear as small as possible. The heavy oak door creaked open, and a hush fell over the room. Your father, a man whose presence usually dwarfed any space, now seemed insignificant next to the figure who entered.

Thomas Shelby.

You’d only seen him from afar, a whisper on the wind, a shadow in the newspapers. He was the devil in a tailored suit, a man who built his empire on blood and fear. And now, he was your intended.

"Mr. Shelby," your father’s voice, usually a booming command, was now laced with an unnerving subservience. "My daughter, Y/N."

You flinched as your father’s hand landed on your shoulder, a possessive, almost forceful gesture that made you acutely aware of the bruising beneath your sleeve. You didn't dare meet Thomas Shelby’s eyes. You knew what he would see: a pawn, a transaction, a means to an end.

"Miss Y/N," His voice was a low rumble, surprisingly smooth for a man of his reputation. "A pleasure."

You remained silent. Speaking without permission was an act of defiance, a transgression that had led to countless punishments. The memories of bitter winds whipping your exposed skin, the icy bite of snow on your bare feet, the searing pain of a belt against your back – they were etched into your very being.

Your father cleared his throat, a sharp, warning sound. "Y/N, speak."

You finally lifted your gaze, forcing yourself to look at him. Thomas Shelby was even more imposing up close. His eyes, the color of a stormy sky, held a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher—calculation, yes, but also a hint of… curiosity? His face was a chiseled mask, betraying no emotion.

"It is… a pleasure, Mr. Shelby," you managed, your voice barely a whisper, hoarse with disuse.

He simply nodded, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to your father. "The terms are clear, then?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Shelby. She's yours. Completely. No further obligations." Your father’s words were a cold blade, severing the last thread of your past life. You were property, given away without a second thought.

The wedding was a blur of grey and muted whispers. You were dressed in a simple, unadorned gown, feeling less like a bride and more like a sacrificial lamb. Thomas Shelby stood beside you, a dark, imposing figure, his hand at your back a phantom weight that you braced yourself against. He never looked at you, his gaze fixed on the vicar, his expression unreadable.

Later, in the opulent silence of his Small Heath home, you stood in a room that felt too grand, too empty. The air hummed with an unspoken tension. He walked in, shedding his jacket, loosening his tie. You instinctively took a step back, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs.

"There's a spare room," he said, his voice flat, devoid of warmth or malice. "Across the hall. You can stay there."

You blinked, surprised. You’d expected… you didn’t know what you’d expected, but not this detached practicality. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby."

He turned then, his eyes finally meeting yours. "It's Thomas. And you're my wife now, Y/N. Best get used to it." There was no softening in his tone, no hint of affection, just a statement of fact. You were his. A transaction. A means to an end. And in your mind, he was nothing more than the enemy who had sealed your fate.

Life in the Shelby household was a strange dance. You moved through the grand rooms like a ghost, observing, listening, always on edge. Thomas was rarely home, consumed by his business, his empire. When he was, he was a whirlwind of activity, barking orders, making deals, his mind always churning. You avoided him, whenever possible, preferring the solitude of your room, the quiet solace of books.

One particularly cold evening, you were in the drawing room, a book open on your lap, but your mind miles away. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You hadn’t heard him enter.

"Can't sleep?" His voice startled you, and you nearly dropped the book.

You turned, clutching the book to your chest. "Just… reading."

He moved to the drinks cart, pouring himself a whiskey. "You spend a lot of time in here. Or in your room."

You shrugged, uncomfortable with his sudden attention. "It’s quiet."

He took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze distant. "You're… quiet."

The observation was so simple, yet it struck a nerve. You had been trained to be silent, to be invisible. "Is that a problem?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He turned, a faint frown on his brow. "No. Just an observation." He paused, then gestured to the armchair opposite him. "Sit. Unless you prefer to stand."

You hesitated, then slowly sat, still clutching your book. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts.

"Your father," he began, his voice low, "he spoke of your… compliance."

You stiffened, a cold dread washing over you. He knew. He knew about your parents, about their abuse, about the fear that governed your every move.

"He said you were… well-behaved." The words were almost a question.

You stared into the fire, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. Well-behaved. You’d been beaten into submission, starved into obedience. "I learned early on," you said, your voice barely audible, "that it’s easier to agree than to argue."

He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the crackle of the fire. "Is that why you didn't protest the marriage?"

You finally looked at him, your eyes burning with a mix of defiance and raw vulnerability. "Would it have mattered?"

He didn't answer, just watched you, his stormy eyes searching, probing. You felt exposed, laid bare under his scrutiny. He was the enemy, the one who had bought you, but in that moment, there was a flicker of something in his gaze that wasn't purely transactional. It was something akin to… understanding. Or perhaps, you were just desperate for it.

Days bled into weeks, and a fragile, unspoken truce settled between you and Thomas. He still spent most of his time at his office or out in the grimy streets of Small Heath, but his presence in the house became less of a looming threat and more of a distant, yet constant, hum. You found yourself observing him, albeit from a distance. You saw the way he commanded a room, the sharp intelligence in his eyes when he discussed business, the quiet intensity when he sat alone, smoking.

One afternoon, you were in the garden, trying to coax life from a neglected rose bush. Your hands were grimy with soil when you heard footsteps behind you.

"You have a knack for it," Thomas said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You straightened, wiping your hands on your apron. "Just trying to make something grow."

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips, a rare sight. "My mother used to say the same about me. Said I had a knack for growing things, even if they were weeds."

You actually chuckled, a soft, unfamiliar sound. "Perhaps some weeds are just misunderstood flowers."

He looked at you, a flicker of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps." He paused, then said, "You never talk about your family."

The easy atmosphere vanished. You turned back to the rose bush, picking at a dead leaf. "There’s nothing to talk about."

"Everyone has a past, Y/N."

"Some are just… best left buried." You felt the familiar tightening in your chest, the fear that always accompanied thoughts of your parents.

He watched you, his gaze intense. "Are you afraid of them?"

The directness of the question startled you. You didn't answer, instead focusing on the task at hand, your fingers trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be," he said, his voice low, steady. "Not anymore."

You slowly raised your head, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, a quiet promise, a strange sense of protection. It was a foreign feeling, one you hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He was still the man who had bought you, the head of a notorious gang, the enemy. But for the first time, you wondered if there was something more to Thomas Shelby, something beyond the cold, calculating exterior. And you, against your will, felt a faint, unsettling flicker of hope. He still saw you as a means to an end, a strategic alliance, but the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it was beginning to chip away at your hardened defenses. You were still trapped, but perhaps, just perhaps, the chains weren't as tight as you’d always believed.

The incident with the rose bush marked a subtle shift. Thomas started appearing in the garden more often, not to garden himself, but to observe you. Sometimes he’d offer a brief, almost gruff comment about the weather or the state of the plants. Other times, he’d just stand, smoking, his silence less intimidating and more…companionable.

One evening, you were in the library, a vast room filled with leather-bound books that smelled of old paper and dust. You were perched precariously on a rolling ladder, reaching for a particularly old copy of Wuthering Heights on a high shelf. Your fingers brushed against the spine when the ladder wobbled violently. A gasp escaped your lips as you lost your footing.

Before you could fall, strong arms encircled your waist, steadying you. You instinctively clutched the book to your chest, your heart hammering.

"Careful, Y/N," Thomas’s voice rumbled close to your ear. His breath, smelling faintly of tobacco and something uniquely him, brushed against your hair.

You felt the warmth of his hands through your dress, a jolt of unexpected sensation. He didn’t immediately let go. Instead, he held you for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on your face. His eyes, usually so guarded, held a surprising softness, a fleeting concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low.

You swallowed, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Yes. Thank you, Thomas." The name felt strange on your tongue, more intimate than you were used to.

He finally released you, and you stepped away, feeling a strange mix of relief and… something else you couldn't name. He picked up the fallen book, his fingers tracing the worn cover.

"Bronte?" he mused. "Bit of a dramatic read for a quiet evening."

You managed a small smile. "I find comfort in it. Their troubles make mine seem… manageable."

He looked at the book, then at you, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes, the only way through is to face the storm head-on." He handed the book back to you. "If you ever need a hand reaching for another, just ask."

It wasn't much, but it was a gesture of consideration, of shared humanity, that you hadn’t expected from him. He was still the enemy, the man who had taken away your meager freedom, but moments like these chipped away at the solid wall you had built around your heart.

The cracks in your perception of Thomas Shelby deepened over time. You witnessed his fierce loyalty to his family, the quiet way he looked after his younger sister, Ada, the protective edge in his voice when he spoke to Finn. You saw him at work, making impossible decisions, always with a calculated shrewdness that was both terrifying and undeniably impressive. He was a force of nature, yes, but he wasn’t just a monster.

One rainy afternoon, you were helping Polly organize some ledgers in the office when Thomas walked in, looking more harried than usual. He ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing.

"Bloody business," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

Polly, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. "Problems, Thomas?"

He just grunted in response, his gaze landing on you. "Y/N," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for someone so clearly stressed. "You know anything about this new ledger system Polly’s trying to implement?"

You were surprised he even acknowledged your presence, let alone asked for your input. "A little," you admitted. "My father was obsessed with meticulous record-keeping. I learned a few things."

He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "Tell me."

You found yourself explaining, detailing the advantages of the new system, the potential for greater efficiency. As you spoke, his eyes, usually so guarded, seemed to soften, a spark of interest replacing the weariness. He listened intently, nodding occasionally, sometimes interjecting with a sharp, insightful question.

When you finished, a rare, genuine smile touched his lips. "That's… surprisingly useful, Y/N. Thank you."

You felt a warmth spread through you, a feeling of genuine accomplishment. It was the first time in your life that your thoughts, your knowledge, had been valued.

Later that evening, as you were preparing for bed, there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it to find Thomas standing there, a small, wrapped parcel in his hand.

"Heard you like books," he said, holding it out.

You took it, your fingers trembling slightly. It was a first edition of Jane Eyre. You knew the story well, of a quiet, resilient woman finding strength and love in an unforgiving world.

"Thomas… thank you," you whispered, genuinely touched.

He shifted uncomfortably, a rare vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor. "Polly said you mentioned it once. In passing."

He remembered. He actually remembered something you’d said, something so trivial. It wasn’t a means to an end, it wasn’t a business transaction. It was a gesture, small but significant, from a man who was slowly, painstakingly, beginning to see you as more than just his wife by arrangement. And you, in turn, were beginning to see him not just as the enemy, but as a complex, surprisingly human man who was capable of unexpected tenderness.

[iz-star]

Zayne: Hidden Motive - The hidden meaning behind these two images and other thoughts about this card.

Warnings: NSFW talk, personal interpretation about this card, some analysis (probably overanalyzing lol).

I've already mentioned this quickly over twitter, tho I have to admit that I hate to write down my thoughts over there cause it's already difficult for me to put my ideas in order, let alone writing them in threads (and not even in my native language, my brain can't do so much). So I'm going to try to explain this here better, especially cause I've seen a lot of people not so sure of what happened in this card, if what Zayne and MC did was straight up dry humping or if it was all just the movement of the chair without actually touching each other.

Of course, this card was wild just for the already suggestive (let alone, stimulating?) work of the camera when MC is on top of Zayne, but this game is not even rated +18 so they have to be careful about what they show. Sex isn't anything new to this game, however it all depends on the way it is portrayed and showcased. Most of the times, sex is always implied; there are spicy moments but it has never been anything overly explicit, most cases the sexy scenes are more like foreplay, what leads to actual intercourse/sex, the last part being left to the imagination. If they were going to be wild with this card, they had to be soft at portraying it, unironically. In order to do that, they had to resort to certain storytelling resources, in this case: the rocking chair, the leaf and the fabric over the couch.

The rocking chair's purpose I think it's quite obvious and it was to not to blatantly show MC and Zayne rocking against each other, it was like the perfect excuse to put them on such a situation without the characters doing it willingly, or so so cause it's already too much to know that MC is sitting on top of Zayne, however this is not new to the game, right? MC sitting on top of Zayne's lap is actually quite normal, she's done it several times; here they just had to give them an excuse to move and when Zayne pulled MC towars him, everything started. I seriously praise the masterminds behind this scene cause they literally gave us Zayne and MC starting to dry hump in front of our very eyes in a very subtle way.

Again, the camera direction is the most risky thing they had done to showcase a sexual act so far, and I'm not mentioning this to downplay any other sexy scenes from Zayne or the other LIs, it's simply bc the bouncing movement it's too explicit and induces quite strong sexual ideas related to it, to go further seemed to be impossible at this point, however it also looked like they wanted us to be sure of what was happening here somehow, that it wasn't only the rocking chair making us seeing things, so in order to confirm what our minds were thinking and it wasn't only the sound of Zayne's kisses filling the room, they resorted to metaphors: the leaf and the fabric over the couch.

Maybe this is my dirty mind speaking, but is so suggestive the way this image was showed right after Zayne asked MC "Do I look like I can work right now?" with all the movement of the camera going wild and he resuming to kiss/suck MC's neck. It literally started to rain in this very moment, and the drop running down the leaf seems to be a metaphor of MC's arousal. Yes, she was getting wet down there. For this one, I think that the reference is quite easy to understand and there's no need to explain more, except to say that I actually loved the subtle yet beautiful/elegant way to refer to her arousal.

But what about the fabric over the couch?

If the image of the leaf was a reference to MC, then this one is a reference of Zayne's own arousal. What this image has is a disheveled fabric that's hanging from the edge of the couch, so there's two things:

The couch → Zayne's thighs/legs (isn't it a common joke within the fandom that Zayne is MC's favorite chair due to all the times she sits on his lap, anyway?)

The fabric → Zayne's robe.

Did you notice that among the four LIs, it was Zayne's robe the only one with the loosest tie and both sides of his robe do not even cross? like this thing it's barely keeping together somehow.

Which is genuinely surprising coming from Zayne, the Zayne whose towel outfit has the safest tie, the Zayne whose workout outfit covers his body from head to toe, the same Zayne who has dressed five (or was it six?) layers of clothes in the past (Master of Fate), the same Zayne who is always wearing long coats and suits and literally the one who makes us feel like victorian man seeing a woman's ankles for the first time lol.

I definitely think they did this on purpose. Give him easier access? Hell yeah. What this image is intending to say is that he was already opening his robe down there, making the contact with MC's wetness closer? Maybe that's why after this, she told him not to be too intense? Hmm...

Now, this probably is my overanalysis, it's up to you if you choose to believe this or not. For some people, media is about what is explicitly told, but narrative resources say a lot most part of the time, it helps the writers to give the readers hints about certain foreshadowing or, in this case, to reference to certain things that are impossible to address due to censorship.

Personally, I loved this card so much, but at the same time, it leaves me with a sense of dread. Did you notice how emotional, bittersweet or even sad/nostalgic was Zayne's bgm during his kindle? I saw some people uploaded the recording of his kindle without the bgm just to appreciate the naughty sounds (no blame here cause I did too ngl ahaha), but it made me want to listen to the music alone and good lord, the music made me so emotional. After watching the kindle with the music on again, I realized of how emotional this moment becomes when the bgm is playing. It gives vibes of something so intense yet so fragile. Go listen and appreciate it alone, you'll see what I'm talking about:

I noticed that they used two new songs for these cards, one was this one and the other was used in Rafayel's kindle, for Xavier and Sylus' kindles, they used bgm that was previously used in other memories. It's also interesting that the art direction of Zayne and Rafayel's kindles has a bit of a somber mood to them, like even their scenarios make sure to use cold colors and emotional backgrounds, while Xavier and Sylus' use more warm and romantic colors, (tho at least Xaviers bgm music was also intense even if the song is not new).

I feel like the bgm wanted to give a sensual yet emotional feeling to most scenes (except Sylus' since this one was the most chill, which is normal considering that he's new), however, we can't deny that Zayne's song feels like something is about to break somehow, idk how to explain. Someone in the comments section of the video said that it was angsty and beautiful just like Zayne is...

I've been feeling like Zayne's latest cards have been really emotional an intense. In Snowy Serenity is Zayne the one who is in danger, in Hidden Motive, it's MC the one in danger and both cards showcase how far are they willing to get in order to secure each other's safety (and also how much they lie to each other about their own safety lol).

In Snowy Serenity, Zayne and MC get emotionally closer, in Hidden Motive they get physically closer and yet both cards have a bit of both themes too, emotional and physical intimacy on another level.

In Snowy Serenity, Zayne knew that he might not be back so he asked MC to see him off the airport and gave her a hug, even if he never said goodbye, and in Hidden Motive, he tells her that she's not allowed to leave him without saying goodbye. Then he tells her he'll like her as long as she's alive and well. We also have the Adventure above the clouds chapters where they talk about ther lifes in 50 years in the future and how they'll be together still relying on each other. In Dawnbreaker's anecdotes, MC gets to celebrate Zayne's birthday with him and tells him that from now on, she'll always celebrate his birthday with him.

It feels like they're starting to look into the future a little too much, like making promises too soon, it feels too perfect... as if something bad is about to happen and rob us from that bright future, you know?

Do you know who made promises before a tragedy?

I've been thinking about this since I finished Hidden Motive cause... my first thought was... Now what can top this? A lot of us got really surprised by Zayne's card cause the spice was unexpected and I think it's needless to say this, but even the kindle felt a bit different from what we are used to see normally, even some ppl said the kindle was a bit longer than normal. Why would they feed us so much good/emotional/intense content of Zayne lately? And how are they going to keep it up? My brain tells me that something sexual being released too soon after this might feel repetitive so in order to create a bigger impact after this they'll resort to angst. I don't think they'll make Zayne's bday event sad, however, they also announced that more main story branches are going to be added from September to December and Zayne's probably gonna be the first to return, since he was the first one to disappear from the main story.

I just can't help thinking about this, I have this bad feeling that I hope is just my stupid brain overthinking and that we will have happy sweet memories with Zayne from now on even tho the story seems to keep hinting that something bad is going to happen, ugh.

Anyway, sorry for my rant, I actually have a lot of thoughts about this card that I don't know if I'll get to write cause I've been really busy with work lately, however I wanted to at least get this out of my chest.

[honeyedfate]

kiss her you fool | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

as if accidentally convincing both of your fans on several occasions that you two hate each other wasn’t enough, jake had to go ahead and mumble some sleepily ambiguous words on a weverse live and involve the whole internet. to salvage whatever shreds are left of the plan, you are to attend a baseball game together.

genre. fluff

a/n. the third & last part to loverboy is here!! sorry for the wait i wrote 4 different drafts until i settled on this one lol enjoy!! xx

[ › first part ] [ › second part ]

jake is a chill guy. he’s cool-headed, efficient, steady under pressure, always on the side of healthy optimism. that’s the story he sells to others—and to himself. but deep down, he knows he might be a bit of a fraud. worse, he can feel it.

his hands are drenched in sweat as they clench and unclench inside his pockets, chasing an old gum wrapper around to distract himself. the tag of his shirt pokes at his neck, making him want to barbarically tear off his clothes in front of thousands of baseball fans.

but instead, he dutifully follows you through row upon row of seats and keeps his gaze on the back of your head.

so, yes. jake is a very chill guy.

you keep glancing back at him, the lower half of your face obscured by a black mask. still, he knows you’re flashing him reassuring smiles, and he feels bad for how nervous he is. if he’s not staring at you, his eyes are darting around, scanning his surroundings like one of the baseball players warming up in the field might suddenly climb the walls and come for him.

“i think these are it,” you say, glancing at your tickets before sliding them into your back pocket.

jake wordlessly takes the seat next to you, adjusting his cap to shield as much of his face as possible. he knows it’s futile—staying hidden is the exact opposite of why he’s here, but habits die screaming, or something like that.

his shoulders tense for a split second at the touch of your hand on his thigh, and guilt gnaws at him when you pull away almost instantly. he meets your eyes and musters a smile. not that you can see it beneath his matching mask.

“we can leave any time,” you say in a soft tone, looking at him from under your lashes. “i don’t care what the plan is. if you’re uncomfortable, we can ditch this whole thing and get ramen at cu.”

jake’s heart swells, wanting nothing more than to do exactly that, but he knows it’s his fault you’re in this situation in the first place. well, for the most part. he can’t tell you that, though. he knows you will just dispute it until he starts believing it himself, and that would only prove to him once again that his backbone inevitably snaps in the face of a pretty girl.

no matter that it’s his pretty girl, and he’d do anything for you anyway. breaking his spine included. the fact remains—he ran his mouth on live, so now he’s got to face the consequences. 

swallowing the lump in his throat, he shakes his head and threads his fingers through yours, tucking both hands into the pocket of his jacket.

jake grins. “no, this is fun.” you send him a flat look, but he just nods towards the field. “i’ve never been to a baseball game. now we can take it off our bucket list.”

“sure,” you say, sounding wryly amused. “we don’t have a bucket list but at least now we’ve got something to cross off. i’ve also always wanted to be on the kiss cam. guess it’s our lucky day.”

“lucky us,” jake says, his lips curling as he feels your hand squeeze his. he casts a glance around, then leans forward, swiftly pulling both of your masks down with one hand. it’s a brief kiss, just a soft peck that’s a bit inconvenient since both of you are wearing hats, forcing him to tilt his head. but when he pulls back, he sees the way you’re chasing after his lips, eyes still closed, and goes just a little insane.

you look entirely too pretty to leave it at just one kiss. you deserve all the kisses in the world, actually, so he captures your lips again, tasting the cherry gloss he bought you last week because he likes it a little too much. it’s the same one you wore on your first date together.

jake’s lips brush against yours once more, deeper and a bit slower this time as if savouring the moment. you sigh into the kiss and pull back to catch your breath, your lips lingering just above his. your eyes are still closed, but jake doesn’t mind one bit, taking the moment to let his gaze wander over every single feature of yours that he knows by heart. and would you look at that? suddenly, he couldn’t care less that he’s sitting in a huge stadium.

you tear your gaze away from his lopsided grin. “let’s save some of this for later, yeah?” you say, and jake is not ashamed of the groan rumbling in the back of his throat as he hides his face in the crook of your shoulder. how else is a man supposed to act when your lips look so plumb and kissable, and your voice sounds like that? hopeless.

you’re looking at him, a smile tugging at your lips when you notice an older lady a few rows down elbowing the person next to her, gesturing not-so-subtly at the two of you. under your breath, you mumble, “the ahjummas down there are looking at us.” 

jake leans back, glancing at them from the corner of his eye before lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “can you blame them? we’re not exactly hard to look at.”

“your modesty astonishes me,” you say, sounding unimpressed.

jake raises an eyebrow and leans forward on his knees, a smirk tugging at his lips. “we’d make beautiful babies, and you know it.”

you snort, shaking your head. “that’s what ni-ki said this morning. something about sacrificing himself for his future nephews and nieces because at least he knows they’ll be cute. i’m still not sure what he meant by that.”

jake cocks his head and pokes your side when you playfully mirror him. “he came down this morning when yuki was talking to us in the kitchen,” jake says, shifting in his seat.

he grimaces as he remembers the conversation with jungwon who was basically a zombie at that hour after having to stay up late as a consequence of jake’s faux pas on weverse. “ni-ki said he was going to take care of this for us. i didn’t know what he meant at first, but then sunghoon sent me a screenshot of what ni-ki posted on weverse. it was a selfie of him, facing the other way so his left side was showing.”

“wait, seriously?” your eyebrows shoot up, and jake nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“yep. he called himself a martyr in the group chat. said he was taking one for the team.”

you gasp dramatically, holding a hand to your chest. “a martyr? for us? what’s next, a shrine in the dorm?”

jake laughs, clearly entertained by your idea. “i mean, we could probably arrange one. heeseung’s room is big enough to fit ten.”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “that’s… actually true. but did it work?”

jake bites his lip, glancing at his phone. “i haven’t checked yet, but sunoo sent me a text earlier. apparently, engenes are seeing right through it.”

“what are they saying?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“they’re saying belift gave up ni-ki for damage control,” jake chuckles.

before you can say anything in response, your phone vibrates, the sudden buzz pulling your attention away. you reach for it, ignoring jake’s whiny protests as you untangle your hand from his. “hello?”

jake pouts and scoots closer, pressing his ear against the backside of your phone. you roll your eyes and click the side button to turn the volume up, letting him hear the voice on the other end, your manager’s. “…are you in your seats?”

you hum and nod, nearly knocking jake’s hat off with the movement. “yea, we’re here. we got here a bit early, so there are still a few empty seats. but the game should be starting soon. what’s up? did something happen?”

“well,” your manager says, her tone uncertain, and jake’s heart drops. “about half an hour ago, minjun posted the dance challenge you and jake filmed for their tiktok. it…er, seemed to stir up a bit more of a reaction than we expected…again.”

you exchange a confused glance with jake. nothing about the videos seemed off—he’d double-checked, paranoid he might’ve accidentally done something ridiculous again, like giving you a lap dance or declaring his undying love on camera.

filming those two dance challenges had already been an ordeal. the pr team was relentless, adamant on pushing you and jake to drop as many microscopic hints as possible to suggest something was going on between you two, but it was so painfully awkward that you ended up with enough unusable footage to last a month.

jake had been a giggling mess the entire time, finding it all so silly, like he was on some overly scripted dating show. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop tripping over your own feet, bumping into him more times than he could count. at least you managed to do it on beat.

regardless, even though filming the final video had been a struggle, it was ready to go. jake had made sure of that.

it was just another dance challenge, he thinks to himself, trying to push aside the unease creeping up. whatever’s going on now, it’s gotta be grey sweater guy’s fault.

“what do you mean?” your voice brings him back, your curiosity clear. “we didn’t do anything…right?”

“well,” your manager says again, clearing her throat. “since we couldn’t really get any dance footage of you acting like, you know, an actual couple—” 

jake snorts.

“—minjun ended up keeping the last few seconds of a video when he posted it to the enhypen tiktok page. he didn’t give us a heads-up before doing it.”

your eyes widen as you send a quick look in jake’s way. “is he going to get in trouble?” you say into the phone, and jake pulls a funny face. is that what he was supposed to feel? concern? apparently, he likes the guy even less than he thought.

“that’s the thing,” your manager goes on. “everyone seems to like it?” she sounds quite surprised about it herself, and jake has to strain his neck to make sure he heard correctly. 

“everyone?” he echoes in disbelief, and you nudge him when he inches impossibly closer, practically climbing onto your lap.

“what do you mean everyone?” you ask as jake moves back a little. “what were we doing?”

your manager lets out a long sigh, as if hoping you wouldn’t ask. “after you left for the game, minju and some of the others decided to go through the videos again, hoping to find something a bit more exciting. they ended up finding one where you two were dancing really well—everything was clean, no one was falling or laughing, and the chemistry wasn’t too forced.”

she pauses, and you can hear her shifting slightly. “but then, right at the end, you trip over your feet and… well, you kind of just leave the frame.”

jake frowns, meeting your puzzled gaze. you had filmed so many different versions, they have all blended into a nightmarish concoction of blurred memories, making it hard to recall which one she means. “i leave the frame and then what?”

the silence stretches on for a beat, and jake feels a spark of irritation bubbling up at the theatrics. horrified, he starts to wonder if he’s accidentally flashed the whole world and didn’t even realise.

“the entire thing only lasts two seconds, but you stumble, jake rushes after you, and you both end up out of frame—but we can still see part of it because of the mirrors. jake has his arms around you as you both tumble to the floor, laughing.” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, then adds quietly, “minjun removed the music at the end, so you can hear the laughter.”

jake doesn’t even know how to respond. sure, the company can post whatever they want of him, but they usually don’t. there’s an unspoken rule of decency and respect among the team, and he’s at least asked before anything goes up. this? this is just wrong.

he doesn’t realise that you’re voicing his exact thoughts into the phone until a loud cheer ripples through the crowd. a woman he’s seen on tv before appears on the big screen over the baseball field. she’s offering some welcoming words, and jake figures the match must be starting soon.

“—he’s lucky people are receiving it well, but he has to know that it’s not okay to just post that without our knowledge or consent,” you say, your voice tinged with more disappointment than frustration.

“i know, trust me. yuki and i made sure any future genius moves from him go through us—and you two—first. i know you're not mad, just…" she sighs, papers shuffling. “look, almost 80% of the comments are positive, calling you a cute, good-looking couple and all that. the rest are either in denial or upset, but it doesn’t matter. more people are for it than against it, so just enjoy the game. you don’t have to go through with what we discussed if you don’t want to. things are looking good, y/n.”

jake doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation, having heard enough. he leans back, resting a hand on the back of your seat and absentmindedly draws circles onto your skin.

you mutter something into the phone and end the call, melting into jake’s side with a sigh. he coos, pulling you closer, and presses a kiss to the top of your hat while humming. “you know what?” he says quietly.

“what?” your voice is muffled as you rub a hand over your face, looking up at him.

he grins. "at least they’re also calling us a cute and good-looking couple. ni-ki will be a proud uncle to our gorgeous kids.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding your face in his chest and, at once, jake finds it hard to be bothered by anything happening on the internet or even outside this stadium. he has you in his arms and the rest of the afternoon off to enjoy a baseball game. what concerns could he possibly have?

soon after, the players file out onto the field, and the match begins. both of you end up having a lot more fun than expected, and jake briefly leaves to go grab some food and drinks.

he’s walking back up the stairs, looking for you and not even avoiding eye contact with people around like he did before. right now, he’s just a guy hugging two cups of soda and a pile of snacks to his chest, wandering the rows in search of his girlfriend. 

he must look as lost as he feels because someone suddenly taps him on the arm. looking down, he sees the two older women from before. they’re grinning up at him, and jake hesitantly returns the smile, realising a moment too late that they can’t see it due to his mask. 

“you’re three rows up, darling,” the woman on the left with the big, blue-framed glasses says, nodding over her shoulder and vaguely gesturing to where you’re sitting. his face lights up when your eyes meet, and you raise a hand to wave at him. he thanks them and makes to walk up the stairs when she stops him, placing a hand on his arm.

a small voice in the back of his head screams ‘stranger danger’ in capital letters at him, but he brushes it aside, trying to figure out what she could possibly want and whether that might be his kidney or one of the napkins he’s holding.

“you have a very beautiful girlfriend,” she says in that ambiguous, sage voice that the elderly have, and he’s caught off guard. not due to the voice, of course, but the mention of you. jake blinks, processing her words before nodding slowly.

“she’s not, erm, i mean, of course, she’s—”

the woman in the green cardigan laughs delightfully, eyes twinkling with amusement. “sweetie, breathe. we’re not the cia. you can talk about your girlfriend. in fact, you should. it keeps you both young.”

jake is too stunned to muster a reply. he eyes them carefully, wondering if this is a weird interaction or if he’s just never talked about you to anyone before. a second later, he realises—he really hasn’t. not to a stranger, not to anyone.

the thought repeats in his head, looping like a broken record. he’s never talked about you to anyone. and yet, it feels like praises about you live right on the tip of his tongue, like they’ve always been there, just waiting for an opening. so he tries it out. “her heart is even more beautiful,” he says shyly, testing the words, rolling them over like he’s trying to get a feel for them. “which is near impossible but she somehow makes it work.”

it feels weird, to be honest. like he’s revealing a well-buried national secret and endangering the country. the two women share a meaningful glance that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. his stomach twists. jake’s gaze flickers toward you, and an overwhelming wave of emotions crashes over him.

it’s more obvious now than ever. jake is stupidly in love with you. so much so that he has made an utter fool of himself time and time again in the name of keeping you a secret. like love could be something silent, something that exists in the shadows without growing restless. like it wouldn’t claw at the walls of his chest, begging to be let out.

he truly did think loving you quietly would make him feel better about everything. safer. less exposed. but now, faced with the weight of his own realisation, he sees how wrong he’d been. what was the point of all that caution if it only made him feel like this—like he’s been holding his breath for months, maybe even years?

now, he’s given the chance to do the complete opposite. and for the first time, he wants to take it. he wants to love you loudly, unapologetically. because it’s what you deserve. because it’s what he wants.

he exhales, glancing back at you. you’re focused on your phone, scrolling through something with a tiny crease between your brows. probably checking the responses to the tiktok, probably making sure minjun hasn’t ruined both your careers. always so careful, so thoughtful.

“she’s… incredible,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can second-guess them. but they feel right, sitting on his tongue like they belong there. he doesn’t need to say more than that. doesn’t need to explain how you always make people feel comfortable, how you remember the smallest details about everyone you meet, how you laugh with your whole body like it’s the first time you’ve ever found something funny.

the women smile knowingly, and jake lets out a soft breath, something inside him settling.

“i’m very lucky.”

“she’s lucky, too,” the green cardigan woman says, her voice warm. “treat each other well, yes? a love like yours is rare. don’t do it the dishonour of keeping it in the shadows.”

jake lets out a small, breathy laugh, caught somewhere between flustered and amused. he ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck, then nods—not just out of politeness, but because he hears her. really hears her.

the woman gives his arm a gentle pat before turning back to her friend, their conversation shifting elsewhere. jake exhales, then moves, crossing the distance between you in quick strides, taking the steps two at a time.

“should i be jealous?” you greet him with a teasing smile, taking the snacks from his arms.

he snorts. “they were just being nice. said you’re beautiful, by the way, and something about…” he hesitates, eyes flicking toward the field. “well, just… nice things.”

you watch him for a second, noticing the shift in his expression. but you don’t press, just shrugging it off and pulling down one side of your mask to take a bite of your corndog. your gaze drifts back to the cheer team as they work the crowd, the energy in the stadium picking up.

jake tries to focus, eyes darting to the blur of blue as cheerleaders and fans break into coordinated moves. but his mind keeps wandering back to what he’d just been told. normally, he’s not one to easily take anyone’s word as gospel, but this time, he can’t help it. it’s not just that he agrees—it’s the fact that he’s surprised by how much he does.

didn’t he spend all week trying to wrestle with this? he doesn’t want to put his relationship on display for everyone to pick apart—that’s the last thing he wants. but now, sitting here with you by his side in jamsil baseball stadium, he can’t shake the feeling that it doesn’t matter.

he glances at you, completely unaware of his thoughts, and all he sees is his person. someone he never doubts. someone who loves him, and someone he loves in return. does anything else even matter?

occupied by his thoughts, jake doesn’t realise what’s happening around him until the clapping starts. he blinks, surprised, as you turn to face him, bright-eyed and joining in with the crowd. he looks around, confused for a moment, until his gaze lands on the jumbotron. instead of the game, it now shows a couple in the stands, both wearing the rival team’s merch. the man leans in and gives the woman a sweet kiss on the lips. her face turns red, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

it’s the kiss cam, jake realises, and reflexively claps with everyone else as the woman shyly hides her face behind his shoulder. the excitement echoes through the stadium, the chant growing louder.

he can’t help but smile as he watches them, their laughter infectious. “they’re adorable,” you comment, gaze still fixed ahead, oblivious to his smile. jake’s chest tightens, but the feeling isn’t quite discomfort. more like the recognition of something he hadn’t known he’d been longing for. something he now sees clearly.

your mask is hanging off your ear as you absentmindedly sip on your drink, and jake is so glad to see your lips again. it’s like running into an old friend he’s missed. sometimes, it feels like he spends more time missing them than actually getting to kiss them.

he’s about to reply when you suddenly choke, your back straightening in surprise. out of the corner of his eye, he sees people turning their heads, and even though the music is still blasting through the speakers, he’s sure he hears gasps rippling through the crowd.

without thinking, he shifts his attention away from you and glances up at the jumbotron for confirmation—and there it is. the two of you, front and centre, framed in a pink, sparkling heart.

his eyes flick to you as you glance around, your expression a mix of confusion and discomfort. it’s strange to see you so flustered when you’re usually the calm, collected one, especially in situations like this. but here you are, shifting awkwardly under the attention.

a voice from the crowd calls out, “kiss her, you fool!” followed by the sound of cameras clicking as everyone starts pulling out their phones. more voices join in, chanting in unison, and jake can see the tension in your body. you look uncomfortable, clearly not used to this sort of attention, and it’s hard to ignore.

he feels a wave of protectiveness, wanting to ease the situation and make you feel comfortable. seeing you out of your element like this—normally the one who knows how to handle everything—hits him differently. he’s already made up his mind, though.

this whole thing had been part of the plan from the start, and he’s not going to let it stress you out any longer. he wants to kiss you, right here, right now, because it feels right. it’s not about the spectacle, it’s about showing you how much he’s proud to have you by his side.

plus, you have quite literally already told him three times how being on the kiss cam was something you’ve always wanted to do before the game had even begun.

jake huffs a quiet laugh, his body moving on its own as he shifts in his seat. his gaze locks with yours, and he can’t help but grin at the sight of your panicked smile.

“guess we’re famous now?” you quip nervously, trying to make light of the situation. jake tries hard not to laugh, but the sound of it escapes before he can stop it.

he pulls down his mask, the crowd’s excitement swelling around you both.

he leans in, lowering his voice so only you can hear him. “what do you say?” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “can i kiss you?”

he can see you thinking it over, your brows furrowing as nervousness peels away and you weigh your options. he already knows what you’ll say, but he still gives you the space to respond.

“we don’t have to do this, jake,” you whisper, the soft tone in your voice trying to make sure he’s comfortable too, even with thousands of eyes on you.

he smiles, the tenderness in your voice unfailingly melting him even more. “we don’t,” he agrees with a small shake of his head. “but i’ve never not wanted to kiss you, and i’m not starting now.”

your lips part slightly, eyes flickering up to his. the shift is almost imperceptible, but you feel it—his sudden insistence, the way he’s making this moment so much more than just a joke. the kiss cam, the crowd, all of it suddenly feels like less of a spectacle and more like something personal. something you didn’t expect but, deep down, have always wanted.

it’s strange, this feeling, and for a second, you almost don’t know what to do with it. the uncertainty that used to cling to you in moments like this is fading, replaced by something that feels surprisingly soft, sure. jake’s not just trying to make a spectacle of you; he’s actually trying to share this with you, to let you know that this is something he wants too.

your heart skips a beat. there’s no need for words, but you’re caught in the moment. a quiet nod is all you can muster, small but certain. “okay.”

his smile spreads before he even realises it. jake leans in, movements slow but purposeful, drawing it out just a moment longer. the kiss is tender, soft at first—he feels your breath mingle with his, the warmth of you close, the way you fit against him. it’s not rushed, not for the camera. it’s real. it’s something he’s wanted to do for so long, but this—this feels more like an act of love than just a kiss on a jumbotron.

you smile into it, and jake can’t help but grin too, the way your happiness settles deep in his chest. he knows the crowd is cheering, but all he can hear is the soft, breathy sound you make, the one that means you’re happy. the one that makes everything inside him flutter.

when he pulls away, the roar of the stadium hits him like a wave, but it feels distant, almost muted. you tuck yourself into his side, the sound of your laugh soft and light. there’s no turning back now. the world can know, and in this moment, jake couldn’t care less.

‘operation: no hate, just date’ has done its job.

he presses a quick, sneaky kiss to your temple, his grin still lingering, all warmth and love. he wraps his arm around you, pulling you just a little closer, the moment between the two of you nothing but pure joy.

alright. maybe jake is not the chill guy he thought he was. but in this moment, he doesn’t need to be.

all he’s ever wanted to be was a lover boy, and now it feels like he’s finally on the right track.

taglist: @jakeslvt @username-111222333444555 @pjselee

[im-not-a-ghost]

Pick a kpop song and I'll tell you who is having naughty thoughts of you [18+]

Minors do not interact. This is part 1 of a series of 3 posts. We will try to get a bunch of details that will help us identify this person. This will be a lengthy reading, so I may have to publish several posts. If that's the case, I will write down the link to the other parts so that you don't get lost.

Slow it down make it bouncy ~

Threads of fate oracle cards | The Void, Underworld, Patience, Fate

This person may be someone you share a very special connection with. One that is very intimate, and that doesn't mean that you necessarily had physical contact with this person. You are very close with this person, closer than you've ever been with anyone else because you know things about each other that no body knows. That's the intimacy I'm talking about. Another thing I am picking up on is linked to the egg represented on the fate card. It reminded me of the drama series "Alchemy of Souls". In the series, Naksu/Mudeok and Jang Uk share a "private joke" about birds and their eggs. Jang Uk compares Mudeok to a fragile egg that was left alone at the top of a tree and that needs to be taken care of and protected at all costs to be able to survive and see the light of day. Thus, he compares himself to a surrogate bird mom charged of watching over that egg until it can soar high in the sky. This comparison may be significant to you and this person. The dynamic of the two characters overall may be similar to the one you share with this person. Jang Uk and Naksu/Mudeok both need each other desperately at first and their relationship is mainly one based on a mutual accord to take advantage of the other's position and skills, as they're aware they have no other option but to cooperate to reach their personal goals. But the more the plot progresses, the closer they get and the more special their bond becomes. With the combination of Void, Underworld and Patience, I really get that vibe of two people that were forced by external circumstances to meet each other and learn to cooperate because they have a common destiny. In doing so, they have to learn patience and to face their shadows while keeping their relationship hidden. This feeling of secrecy comes off very strongly. If you know this person, you may not be in contact with them at the moment and whatever happened between the two of you is a secret that both of you share. I also got the message that either one of you could be a psychic. The purpose of that person then may be to awaken the other's psychic potential. We will get further details with two different decks to see if these intuitions are further confirmed. In terms of zodiac signs, I was mainly picking up on Scorpio but there may be other signs that come up later on in the reading.

White Numen Tarot cards | page of swords, 7 of cups, 2 of cups, page of pentacles, knight of wands, Black Numen, back of the deck Moon

In terms of zodiac signs, we have the following being represented : Scorpio, Cancer, Leo, Pisces, Gemini, Virgo. I am getting a clearer picture of who this person could be and what is going on between you. I am shown that they are close to you in age and in energy. Their path and maturity when it comes to their spirituality is similar to yours. This is a person that tends to mirror you. You could have met this person at a time in your life where you were feeling a bit lost or unsure about your future. This was a turning point in your life and it was also the case for this person. I get a perfect place perfect timing vibe from this spread. You or they may be a student. You learn a lot from each other. Though you are very similar, your differences allow you to grow drastically and question your beliefs. This is a person that you may feel very attracted to on a physical level. This person may have several centers of interest that keep them busy. You may be contacting them a lot using social media. You could have met them through travelling or they could come from a different culture. With the energy of the Moon I get the message that this person may have brought a lot of old stuff to the surface when you met them. Fears you thought you had overcome. Worries about the past and future. They could also be someone you dream about a lot and/or a person you met at night. This person definitely is linked to you through the force of karma. Your souls knew of each other before. As for the type of bond you share, I feel like putting a label on it wouldn't be relevant. What you need to know is that this meeting happened for a reason and that you felt it coming. You knew right away that this person would play an important role in your journey, and they probably felt it too.

Crystals oracle cards | Meteorite, Citrine, Moonstone, back of the deck Tourmalined Quartz

First of all, I feel compelled to mention the colors that were associated with these cards. Soft browns, beige and pastel purples/pinks seem to be relevant. What comes first to mind is how soft this person can be. I will know focus on each card individually as some details on those caught my attention.

Meteorite - Connect to your "star stuff" : this card mentions that meteorite comes in three forms and that people who may need to work with their energy are "children of the stars". The majority of the messages revolved around cosmic and galactic energy. This made me think that this person could spend a lot of time stargazing or looking at the clouds as a way to feel connected with you. And you may be doing the same. The other thing I was picking up on is that maybe your souls come from the same original place. If you believe in concepts such as starseeds, light language and such, this may resonate with you. I also thought of Saint Exupery's The Little Prince.

Citrine - Manifest your masterpiece : this card revolved around dreams and artistic endeavors, of doing everything in your power to manifest your wildest dreams. So you and this person may have a common creative project that you work on, a common goal or dream that you talked about. This may be the secret we were mentioning in the beginning. (I also heard "in the beninging" from that meme lmao so maybe you share a lot of private jokes and memes)

Moonstone - Find your natural rythm : this card mentioned travelling as well as star gazing. So your person may travel a lot in their daily life. It's a stone ment to increase empathy and intuition among other things. So it wouldn't be surprising if this person was a healer in blooming, a natural empath. I also got the message that they were incredibly sensual. Taurus energy came in strongly here.

Tourmalined Quartz - Restore your perfect light : with this card I was told that your person is often surrounded by a lot of people whom may not have the best intentions towards them. A lot of people look up to them but also envy them and wish for them to fail. Your person may be struggling with impostor syndrome as well as social anxiety.

All these cards combined lead me to believe that the person we are talking about is someone that is quite popular and radiates a lot of light and love around them. They have a pure heart and soul, are very loving and generous but may face a lot of backlash and challenges, because their light tends to trigger people's shadows. This may be something that questioned them and made them think they were a bad person, or that maybe they deserved to be treated badly. This may be something that you have struggled with as well. Which would explain why your paths crossed.

In another reading, we may be enquiring about the content of this person's thoughts and maybe why you met them. I hope that this reading was insightful and helped you figure out who this person was. I would be more than happy to get your feedback in the comments. Stay tuned to get the tea about this person ~

Mr. Rover, I'm coming over ~

Threads of fate cards | back of the deck The Void, Death, The Alchemist, The Explorer

This is really interesting. Your energy may be tied to group 1 as well. If you hesitated between the two groups, you may want to check out group 1's reading. With the Void card, I am told that you are not in contact with this person. They likely live at a distance from you. Sometimes, you may feel like you and this person are worlds apart and that there is no way you could understand each other. Yet, you do. You are polar opposites. And everything may look like you wouldn't match. However, this person gets you like no other. With this spread I am picking up on fixed sign energy mainly, especially Scorpio and Aquarius, as well as Pisces. The Alchemist card makes me think that this person could be a tarot reader or at least they are interested in forms of divination. Butterflies and stars seem to be relevant to this connection. The Explorer card denotes an energy of being restless, feeling like you don't belong where you are and wanting to broaden your horizons. Both you and this person may have connected over the feeling of being different from the rest of your community, of feeling like where you are isn't what's meant for you and more is waiting elsewhere. Of feeling like your body is too small for you. Like you are not truly comfortable in your skin and wish you were something or someone else. You both may have struggled with anxiety and severe depression. You both may have gone through a dark night of the soul. You both are good manifesters and have big ambitions. You both tend to uproot belief systems and push yourselves beyond your limits because you have a deep desire and need for expansion. You could have met this person while travelling, this travel could have been an unconscious one. Meaning, you could have met this person in the 5D before you met them in person. For some of you, you don't know this person yet. But you feel them energetically. Especially, if you practice meditation or lucid dreaming. We will get further information with two more decks. Hopefully, this could confirm what we've been talking about for now. I also get the message that both of you could have the capacity to communicate with spirits/ghosts. Another thing that could have brought you together could be the passing of a person. This is very specific, but for some of you I get the message that the spirit of a loved one interfered in your favor to get you to meet this person. They did so with the hope that it would help you cope with their passing.

White Numen Tarot cards | back of the deck High Priestess, Queen of cups, 8 of pentacles, Hierophant, knight of pentacles, 9 of wands, White Numen

Taurus energy is heavily present here, as well as Leo and Scorpio. So fixed sign energy definitely. With the High Priestess, this person is definitely into the occult and likely to have psychic abilities. This is a person that gives off a very mysterious vibe. They are very secretive and closed off, they mind their own business and don't share their secrets with just anyone. They are very protective of their space because they just know how people's envy can sometimes affect the outcome of their manifestations. This person is highly intuitive and sensitive. They are caring and nurturing. A natural healer. They have a lot of feminine energy that they gladly share. They are dedicated, hard working, patient. This is a person that doesn't give up easily. The word "failure" is not a part of their vocabulary. This person is determined to win and learn no matter what. This person is aware that whatever outcome they get, they will always be victorious one way or another. This is a person that is traditional but also very spiritual, they are well educated and incredibly wise. They could be a teacher or a mentor of some sort. They are extremely cautious and may sometimes be slow to act. But you can be sure that whatever this person does, they will reach their goal. They like to create and work with the Universe. They follow their path slowly but surely, one step at a time and make sure that they learn their lesson. This is a person that understands how the Universe works and goes with the flow. They are not afraid to take a turn or face struggles because they know that at the end of the day, they will get what's right for them and meant for them. They have a lot of confidence and inner knowing that allows them to navigate life peacefully. People could say that this person is married to their work because of how dedicated they are. They are loyal to a fault and are not the kind to abandon people out of the blue. They are very respectful of others and always try to include everyone. This person is also naturally beautiful and sensual. They instantly make you feel safe and understood. You may have met this person in a work or educational setting. Again, for this group I am getting a very fated meeting. Your energies were aligning way before you met. And this person may have consciously manifested you into their life.

Crystal oracle cards | back of the deck Epidote, Libyan Gold Tektite, Malachite, Kunzite

Right off the bat I get a very charming, exotic vibe from this person. Most of these stones are mined in hot countries, especially African ones. The colors also felt very sensual. They kinda reminded me of Egypt and Cleopatra specifically. This person could be a history nerd. They could be of African descent. I will focus on each card individually to point out certain details that caught my attention.

Epidote - Upgrade your version of you : this stone is mentioned as the "get what you give" stone. Which highlights this person's spiritual nature and generosity. This is a person that works on themselves a lot, that constantly tries to be better and do better. They have a bit of a workaholic attitude.

Libyan gold tektite - Banish your "blahs" : this stone forms in the Sahara desert. So this person could have North African to Central African origins, especially Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt. This peron is goal oriented and pretty stubborn. When they have something in mind, it's hard to get them to change their point of view. Sometimes this person can exhaust themselves pretty quickly because of how hard they work. They tend to work extremely hard at a high frequency very early on and thus burn their energy very quickly.

Kunzite - Open up your love channel : they have trust issues because of past relationships. They tend to be hard on themselves and blame themselves for past failures when in reality they were not responsible for what happened. They tend to put others' needs first and forget their own. This person is very loving and can sacrifice themselves in the name of love.

Malachite - Claim your success : this person is humble. They may tend to bring themselves down or attribute their success to others because they may feel like they don't deserve recognition. They have a very altruistic nature. They are very creative but have a hard time following through with their ideas. They tend to be all over the place sometimes, especially if they've been giving a lot of their time and energy to others.

With the combined energy of all these cards, I picture a woman with a motherly nature, that tends to be the mom of the group. Someone very discreet and quiet that always encourages others and shows affection through acts of service. Someone that can do benevolant work just for the sake of giving. A person that is very sensitive to people's struggles. The kind of person that would cry seeing an animal being hurt and out in the streets. The kind of person that would give out their clothes and money to a person in need. A person that was raised in a religious household and taught to never look down on people and never forget where they came from. Someone from a modest family that rose up to success through their hard work and strong inner belief. A person that has a strong moral compass and lives according to their principles, regardless of what people may think of them. Someone that, because of this mentality, tends to be alone and has a hard time connecting with other people.

I'm the charmer ~

Threads of fate oracle cards | back of the deck Paradox, Love, Self Love, Play

The person we are talking about is someone that may confuse you a lot. With this Paradox card, I get a Star vibe from it, which reminds me of Aquarius. So this person could have Aquarius as one of their main signs. This also tells me that you could have met this person online or if you met in person, your main mean of communication is the Internet. I also get the vibe of someone being a bit popular and very busy with their work and hobbies. This person could be very active on social media and thus investing in many projects with different people. The spread also gives me a feeling of two friends walking on the line of romance. The lines may be blurred with this person. At some moment you may feel like they only perceive you as a friend but other times things they say or do may make you question their feelings for you. And this could actually be because this person is feeling the same toward you. I feel like both of you aren't sure of what the other means to you and what you want out of this connection. This could be a FWB situation or just a mutual crush that both of you kind of ignore for some reason. Peacocks and dolphins may be significant signs. Overall, I get the vibe that you and this person get along very well and have a lot of fun with each other. No matter the distance or the time spent apart, whenever you see this person again or interact again, it always feels like you never really were separated. It's like the last time you spoke was yesterday, even if you may have been in a no contact situation for decades. The affection you have for each other is never dying off. I get a very good vibe from this spread and this person. This is someone who's intensions are pure and loving. I kinda get a starcrossed lovers vibe from this group. But more importantly, I feel like the main reason why this person is special to you is beacause they are a part of your soul tribe. This is someone that uplifts you and supports you no matter what, though you may be complete opposites and have different opinions about the world. This person just respects you deeply and appreciates you for who you are. I pick up on a lot of affection and gratitude for each other. It's like both of you only truly feel at peace with one another. Not only does this person give you love but they also gently nudge you into loving yourself more instead of constantly nurturing others. When both of you are interacting, a lot of healing is happening. One thing that may really help you identify this person, I feel, is that this is someone you share a lot of laughter with. You may have a lot of private jokes, secret codes that only you know of, memories of deep conversations that you couldn't have had with anyone else. Honestly this really gives me a best friends to lovers vibe. I also pick up on Pisces energy.

White Numen tarot cards | back of the deck Judgement, Hierophant, Emperor, 2 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, 5 of swords, 2 of wands

Before I dive in any further, I wish to point out that while I shuffled the deck cards kept falling in big groups and it felt like the energy was all over the place. This gave me the impression that there may be several people that are thinking of you. So if you were drawn to different piles, this may be a confirmation that this is your case. Also I felt like one person specifically was doing their best not to think of you but it's just something that they can't help. If this person ends up thinking of you despite their resistance, then things get out of control and they feel like they can never get their composure back again. In terms of Zodiac signs, we have Scorpio, Taurus, Aries mainly. For some of you I think your exes could be potentially among the people that think of you. Whether those were just friends or actual lovers. I feel like many people who may not have manifested any sign of attraction for you ar now reminiscing about you and wishing that they had given you a chance. Which to me is further confirmed by the spread. With he Judgement card and the combination of the cards, I am given a message that this person or these people could be coming in and out of your life lately and some of them may be trying to find an opportunity to express their attraction. I particularly pick up on the energy of someone you may have had a fallout with because of external circumstances, that is now realizing how much you mean to them and wanting to come back into your life. This person I feel misses the feeling of being with you and more importantly they feel like their chance was stolen from them. Like something happened that prevented them from truly giving your relationship a chance. Like, for example, let's imagine you moved into a city and met a person. Things were going well and this person developped feelings for you. When they were about to reveal their feelings to you, you announced them that you were moving out of the city because of your work. This kind of feeling. For some, it could even be that you got into a relationship with someone else before they could even confess their feelings to you and they were cut short by that. Out of respect for you, they chose to remain silent but now they just can't hold it in anymore. This is someone that envisioned a future with you and wanted to commit to you, but they may have taken a long time to find the courage to make the necessary adjustments in their life to enable this connection to flourish. Another possibility is that your faith or your family were a main obstacle in your connection, which caused you to separate ways.

Crystals oracle cards | back of the deck Smoky Quartz, Sapphire, Labradorite, Herkimer Diamond

First of all, I picked up on very specific details that may not resonate with everyone. One person may be a smoker. One person may have a pet cat or a pet dog. One person may have blue eyes.

Smoky Quartz - Arm your spiritual warrior : this is a stone that speaks about protecting your energies from energy vampires and people that may stand in your way. So maybe the person we're talking about may have been someone that wasn't always good to you.

Sapphire - Find your tranquil place : this stone speaks about freeing yourself from the judgmental opinions of you others may have as well as grudges you may hold. So this person could have helped you with your self confidence over the years but they could also have hurt you in other ways. This may be a person you have mixed feelings about because of your common past.

Labradorite - Protect your magic : Canada may be significant. Pisces is coming up again with this card. This person may have helped you with reconciling with love and romance. They may also have helped you realize your own worth.

Herkimer diamond - Power wash your energy : this is a cleansing crystal. Despite its name, it is not a diamond. This person may thus have been someone that you mistook for something they were not. People may underestimate or overestimate this person. They could be someone that enjoys travelling or you may have met them while travelling. New York may be significant to some of you.

With all that being said, I feel like many energies are being mixed within this group but the overall vibe seems to be that most of the people we're talking about are people from your past that you may not be in contact with anymore on a daily basis. Some of them you may not even suspect of having such thoughts about you. You may be happy that some of them are not in your life anymore but others you may miss and wonder about.

[n0tamused]

A/n: I sort of strayed a little with this one I feel like, but thank you sm for the request, and I hope you enjoy this!

Contents: Mortefi x GN!Reader, jealous reader, reader is very stubborn I must say, not proof-read. lemme know what you think!

Words: 3059

It’s suffocating. Uncomfortably warm and slimy. This feeling that roils within your chest and throat, you’re sure you’re about to start feeling sick from the thoughts spiraling within your mind. And the lab papers in front of you and the endless sound of the machine’s beeping is not enough to distract you.

Beep-beep-beep.

Have you done something wrong? What could it be? Only minutes prior were you looking at these papers with some sense of pride, imagination running wild with the possible outcomes of this hypothesis, positive ones. Yet, they were so easily shattered when Mortefi breezed by, catching a glimpse of the words printed on top, leaving several comments of where you could improve - how you should improve if you want to go through with this. Had you had a clear mind you would’ve done as he said, taken his words as helpful advice and not as an attack on your work. But his tone remained the same as always, it didn’t soften nor did it grow warm. So it made you wonder what he meant, or rather - what he really felt towards you. The latter was a question that occupied your mind for a long time.

He moved past you to the center of the lab, nearing one of the many lit computers, just where Baizhi stood. From afar you could see them greet one another and begin to talk. And that feeling in your chest only expanded further, pawing at your ribs and making you frown at the helplessness. Mortefi looked interested in whatever their topic of conversation was, and it lasted some odd few minutes. Odd minutes you couldn’t keep your focus until both of them left to their own stations, and far out of your sight. 

A heavy breath fell from you, irritated but also… sad. 

With your mind in a strewn about yarn, threads hanging, you began to think if this work was even worthy for you. God knew you wanted it, you signed up for it, you spent nights studying and working to be better and get better than that but all that effort seemed to fall short and small within Baizhi’s shadow. And you don’t even blame her, she is excellent in her work, you don’t hate her. But you’d give a questionable amount of things to have a fraction of that sweet attention Mortefi was giving her. Perhaps you were being unreasonable, irrational - and you don’t argue with it - you’re seeing green and red everywhere, and with hasty hands you collect your papers after making small adjustments, crossing out lines of text and noting down new words. And moments later you’re off to another part of the Academy, away from Mortefi and Baizhi.

What little glimpse Mortefi caught of you as you left shows disappointment and, and in the way you held yourself he saw traces of turmoil that he didn’t fully understand from that one look. He remained at his station, engrossed in his research and unaware of the burden you carried in your heart. 

It wasn’t until the time for your report came and went. And when your break time came and went. And you were nowhere in sight.

That made an odd feeling settle in his chest, a vibration of an unknown bass playing amidst the bones of his ribcage, waves of it washing up to his neck. Unable to ignore it any longer, he bid farewell to his station for the time being, one hand buried in the pocket of his lab coat, playing with the lighter. Flick..flick..

There was not one spot in this wide and vast Academy that you could hide from him, not when he wasn’t particularly looking for you and even more so when he was specifically looking for you. He could spot you in a crowd by one lone look, to him you stood out like a flower amidst grass, how could he overlook you? Following the path familiar to him, he comes into a lab room smaller in contrast than the others, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the center room and the halls. It is clean, it is comfortable. His eyes land on your back, your nose buried in your papers, your hands hastily fiddling with the apparatus in front of you. You barely acknowledged his presence.

As if to avoid startling you, Mortefi clears his throat, but he fails and watches as you flinch at the sudden disturbance. 

“Mortefi? Uh- What are you doing here? Did you need me?” the questions tumble out from your mouth out of habit rather than genuine curiosity. You turned to face him, brows lightly knit together and eyes regarding him with a mix of feelings and inquiries. 

“I grew curious as to where you vanished off to. Has your research been so indulgent that you forgot to eat or report in? It’s been 3 hours and some odd minutes since you began on this project this morning” he began, the nail on his thumb grazing underneath the lid of his lighter within his pocket, keeping still, yet tense in his hand. His sharp gaze moves from your eyes and down to the table you were working at, noting the sharpie marks across your paper and thinner lines from your pen, and giving a small nod at them he said: ���You made those adjustments I told you about, I trust”

This pulls your attention from him and at the papers, and taking his words as some sign to move freely you begin to stack pages back on top of another. “Yes. I made the necessary changes to it all. I just need to put it all into practice and, hopefully, get the results I want” you respond, clearing your parched throat. His gaze is intense, you can feel it at the back of your head like two sharp points of a stick. 

“You’ve been pushing yourself today, unnecessarily so. I sense some growing frustration from you” he says, leaving the topic open ended, expecting you to explain yourself, but where do you even begin without looking like a fool? Like a child? 

You sigh, looking around the table yet searching for nothing as you shrug your shoulders. “No, no.. I just haven't been sleeping too well lately, and it seems that all is catching up to me” you offer a empty excuse, before reaching for a blank sheet of paper, a part of you yearning to keep him here, and the other wishing him to leave you with your own emotional burdens. “If a report is what you need, I can only offer what I have from the experiment thus far, but it is not concluded, I apologize”

“Ah, yes.. sleep. One thing that is most underestimated in its importance” he mused out loud, tone flat and ignoring your latter statement for a moment too long. He was pressing deeper into the crux of the matter, not letting you shift the topic too easily. “The report for an unfinished work will not be necessary, it’s much more preferable if you take a bit longer to get end results than to hand over a half-baked product”, he sighed, pushing his golden rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Your dedication is admirable, but we can hardly expect progress if you're operating on insufficient rest and mental fatigue”.

You have to stop yourself from either chuckling or spinning around to stare at him as if he was speaking backwards. But no matter what you tried, you couldn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest.

“Perhaps you should have Baizhi take a look at you. She can prescribe you some soothing medication to help you sleep. But as for work.. You’re done for today” he stated plainly, looking to the side and barely missing your shocked eyes.

“What? Are you dismissing me?” you blurted out, suddenly afraid you have done something wrong or that you offended him in some capacity. He’d never send you home, especially not when you were in the midst of a project. 

“It's not a matter of dismissiveness, but rather a practical decision. If your exhaustion is hindering your ability to perform optimally, what benefit is there in insisting on your presence here?” he replied, his tone cool and detached. You blink at him owlishly, confused and, quite frankly, afraid. Previous anger, sadness and jealousy all melting away from your bones like wax over a flame. The flame being Mortefi himself. An eternal blaze that swallowed everything in its wake. You were wondering how it didn’t engulf you by now.

But in that thought alone you missed the point of it all. His flames didn’t touch you, didn’t scorn you because he willed them that way. The warmth of them kept you warm, kept you alive, kept you in this field and as his coworker, a place most others wouldn’t be able to handle. He would soften it all if he knew how, to show you he cares.

Sensing a shift in your emotions, Mortefi softened his gaze, a subtle nod of understanding replacing the usual aloofness he carried. He saw the confusion and fear in your eyes, and it pained him that he had inadvertently caused it. He knew that his words could often come across as cold and dismissive, but it was never his intention to harm or offend.

“Rest is not a punishment, but a necessary part of the work process. To push oneself to the point of exhaustion is unproductive. It only inhibits progress. Trust me when I tell you this."

Softness is undeniably present in his voice now, and your mind goes blank. Your mind was still stuck on this morning, on your project, but here he was breaking all illusions and thoughts by simply being kind. 

“I can’t say I don’t appreciate your concern, but..” you look up at his eyes only to find a scowl curling the corners of his lips, and you sigh again, looking away in embarrassment. “I can’t argue with you either, can I?”

“No, you cannot. Now, go pack up what you have. I’ll go contact Baizhi and see if she can get a check up on you before you leave”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary..” you wave your hands before you, shaking your head simultaneously to deny the offer with your entire being. “I already have some tea at home that can help me with this, no need for a check up. I insist” you try, but only get a cocked brow from Mortefi, you can already tell what he’s thinking. 

“Tea alone cannot be sufficient in treating issues related to poor sleep. Besides, it goes without saying Baizhi is well versed in medicine, and her prior check-ups of your health have been of great help to you, have they not? If tea was that simple of medicine, why have you not seen improvement?” he shot back sharply and you grew quiet, not wishing to prolong this argument further, but staying silent wouldn’t be the way to go either.

“I don’t want to see Baizhi right now” you said plainly, tone low and softened involuntarily. Your reply was met with a skeptical look, Mortefi’s head tilted in question. “And why not? Do I need to pull you to her office myself? You’re not a child, (Y/n)” he countered, not low on his arsenal of words and snappy remarks. He approached you closer, closing the distance between the two of you until he could peer into your avoidant eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

“I just.. Mortefi, I don’t know. I don’t want to see Baizhi and that’s final. Don’t make me go see her. I’ve seen enough of you two this morning” It slipped from your mouth sooner than you could pull it back, and immediately you regretted your choice of words, cursing the ability to speak. “Uh-”

Mortefi froze in his tracks, his sharp eyes widening subtly in surprise. The mention of Baizhi and himself seemed to strike a chord in him, and his stoic façade cracked just enough to betray a hint of confusion. “Hm? Have we done something to offend you to this degree of avoidance? I wasn’t aware of any discomfort inflicted upon you” he knitted his brows, looking at you for answers, his turn to feel on edge now. Were you implying he was acting out of line with Baizhi? He knew of how he behaved around others and he saw no flaws in his dealings with other colleagues, so it all left him in a more twisted maze. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lips pressing into a thin line. “Mortefi- no. You haven’t done anything to offend me, I am not offended. I just.. uh.. No, it’s all too silly. I just meant that you two just seem to be too busy with your shared workload, and I just got tired of seeing it all” It’s a badly written lie, and the truth is bleeding through the cracks in neon colors. You’re cringing at yourself, really.. The lies you were uttering, however poorly woven, were evident in the way your face creased. He could almost hear your thoughts, almost see the jealousy and insecurity that plagued you through the lies you were trying to hide behind.

He paused for a moment, considering the situation carefully, before responding. "Is it really about our workloads, or is there something else that you're not telling me?" He asked calmly, his voice low and measured.

A pregnant pause befell your ears, only being interrupted by a distant hum of a machine outside of the room, and the footsteps of other workers in the halls. He does not push you to answer swiftly, instead he waits, patient as ever with you.

“I suppose…”

“You suppose..?”

It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t taut as a bowstring, ready to hear you out, anticipating your reply. His heart was squeezing painfully in his chest.

“Ugh..I just.. Promise me you will not be angry at me, and that you will not think ill of me after I tell you?” 

“Well, this must be big if you’re asking that of me” he breathed out. Your hesitation was palpable, and the silence between them dragged on, only adding to the palpable tension. Finally, the words came, and he felt a strange mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

“I'll promise no such thing will come from me. Your words cannot change the way I feel about you” he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

With a heavy breath you closed in on yourself, arms folded over your chest. “I was just.. watching how close you and Baizhi are this morning and for a long time now. You always spend so much time together, and despite you and I being direct coworkers and more than that outside of this Academy, I feel.. left behind”

“You are jealous?”

“If you wish to put it that bluntly - then yes. I am”

Mortefi’s coldness and stiffness seemed to melt, the answer finally clearing up the brain fog that had started to develop in his head. Things were looking clearer at long last, and with that he also felt as if he failed you. He has failed to make you feel appreciated as you deserved, and that makes his gut twist in on itself.

“I fail to see why you’d be jealous of Baizhi, even with the time we spent together. Baizhi and I are strictly work colleagues and nothing more. You are the one that gets to be in my presence, sharing stories and desserts after work hours..” Mortefi says out loud, moreso speaking to himself than you, as if trying to figure out your point of view. He wasn’t dismissing your emotions, but he failed to grasp them within his own two hands. He had been so preoccupied with his own work and responsibilities that he had failed to notice the toll it was taking on his relationship with you. His focus had been so singularly on his research, on his partnership with Baizhi, that he had unintentionally neglected the depth of the connection he had with you.

“I do have to apologize” he cuts you off before you can speak. “This.. area is not within my expertise, per se. If I had neglected you, I would’ve liked if you openly communicated this with myself” he offered, and the lighter in his hand feels like it will break apart under pressure.  “And while I can’t limit my time with Baizhi, as it is all just work, I can accommodate you as well by spending more time with or around you, if that will help you feel more.. at ease” 

There is clarity ringing its bell over your head as he speaks, already offering solutions to this problem you made out of irrational thought. Bless his heart, for all he is cold and aloof he is ten times more kind. Snappy as he is, he means well.

“Mortefi... Mortefi, I am sorry too. I did want to keep this with myself, it shouldn’t have come to this point where you try to resolve my issues by yourself”

At that he scoffed, almost chuckling but no laughter came from him. One hand perches itself on his hip and he looks at you with a look that screams of his desire to see this through. 

“Oh, but how can I ignore it now that it is in front of me? No, that will not do. Especially since it is you who we’re talking about. You go ahead now, I’ll think of something until the end of my shift. I’ll give you a call later this evening”

Afterwards your company would leave his presence and the lab, having left with more reason than conflict, and with a mind full anticipation of his words.

And just like clockwork, by the end of his shift he’d give you a call, telling you to come meet him at your favorite dessert place. 

Mortefi is special in his way of showing affection..

He is yet to learn his way with words when it comes to sweet nothings, but until then he can take care of you and help you out with work. Whatever helps you see that you, indeed, do matter much to him. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @pinksaiyans

[gold-rhine]

so i finally watched the nod krai livestream, and it has some talk about nod krai, inspirations, factions, etc, the usual stuff, but the interesting part to me was about narrative reasons behind adding nod krai at all and also strategic change in storytelling direction

so, they said that basically they realized that they have shitton of unexplored lore and a lot of plotlines and character arcs that were planted in all the regions, but not advanced bc hoyo were rushing things. so they decided to take time and dedicate the nod krai timeline to "tying up loose threads". which is huge win , they should have been doing it long ago, but better later than never i guess. this also means mond quest is not a fluke, but a part of this direction and i think lantern rite that explored hu tao's backstory also fits

also, they said that they are reevaluating their methods of presenting lore, that long descriptions hidden in books are inaccessible to most players, and and they want to instead give players lore through gameplay experiences, and also they want to clarify their lore bc they see a lot of batshit theories. HUGE WIN, I'VE BEEN SAYING FOR AGES THEY NEED TO DO THIS. the dark souls method of storytelling doesn't even work for dark souls, the youtube DS\elden ring lore videos industrial complex is clear indication - like 95% players are not engaged in game, they either ignore it altogether or watch youtube videos with conspiracy theories. the puzzling together lore and plot from hidden descriptions is valid storytelling method, but not for all games. i love sunless sea, cultist simulator, book of hours where main gameplay is doing conspiracy board from cryptic texts and metaphors, and even more narrative oriented games like disco elysium and planescape torment can pull it off bc text is already the main gameplay medium in these games, but genshin is just completely different genre and they are not using the medium to its advantage with long text lore dumps in random shit.

also, they said they want to move away from sequestering stories into world quests and character quests, and have overarching interconnected main narrative. which is a tentative W depending on execution. isolating lore in story quests and so this lore not being able to to be used in main quests is a long time problem. in fontaine its excellent world quests would simply be fun to be included, but natlan id say suffers enormously from locking all saurian and dragon related lore in world quests. both archon quests and world quests end up feeling shallow. what the fuck was that abyss pyro dragon fight out of nowhere. but if they turn it into long ass boring blah blah sessions like hsr's amphoreues then no thank you. really will depend on execution.

they also said they want to explore things that only genshin can do, like having characters be present in the world and tell stories through interactions with them. previously they couldn't do that bc devices couldn't handle it, but now its possible. the traveler tales event was their first experiment with that. if you've been there, you know i LOVED that event, the way they weaved several interconnected narratives from casual quick encounters, explored characters' relationships, including the ones i never knew i needed to see, like cloud retainer and razor. or gave depth to previously only hinted things, like i always assumed qiqi and yao yao were hanging together bc they are two liyue kid characters, but their plotline really opened it up and the finale was so bittersweet and touching, and all that for characters i frankly never gave a fuck about.

but that type of storytelling will depend hugely on execution, you need to have a very firm handle of the narrative direction, pacing, sense of what is enough set up and when pay it off. if they do it right, this will be a BANGER, but with bad execution it might end up worse than traditional boring quests. idk we'll see

[isagrimorie]

It’s always frustrating whenever the BAU tackles a case where either the victimology or UnSub has similarities to Prentiss’s background/upbringing but the writers rarely use it to give insights on Prentiss or have Prentiss’s background provide some insights into a case.

As an example, The Performer is an episode featuring Gavin Rossdale as a rockstar whose kayfabe was being a Vampire ala Lestat but fake.

The show could have dove a little into the goth community, a community Emily Prentiss used to be a part of. Did they do that? Unfortunately, no, they hung a lantern on it. The writers had Penelope tease Emily about how she used to dress Goth. Even though, Emily still dressed like one but corporate style.

In the episode, Pleasure is My Business. The UnSub grew up around wealth and privilege and then used sex work to lure her victims.

We discover in Lauren that Prentiss was in a similar enough situation re: Operation Valhalla.

Ala The Americans show, Prentiss used intimacy to get close to Ian Doyle.

Emily Prentiss became Lauren Reynolds because she matched Doyle’s type.

I know the writers had a vague idea of Prentiss’ past only that the writers had breadcrumbs pointing to a rich, mysterious past. They don’t have a crystal ball, but the privileged background could have been a jumping off point for a discussion, an insight to the UnSub’s thoughts.

In the season 16 episode, Orpheus Wrecks, the writers could have again used that case as a way to get more insight into Prentiss’ hidden personal life. As a Politician’s kid, and a somewhat savvy political operator herself, Prentiss would have been as familiar, if more, to the DC wonk space as Bailey was.

Prentiss would also be familiar with the Beltway Elite app even if she didn’t use it herself.

(As a former Spook, the idea of having an app like that in her phone would give Prentiss OpSec paranoia. She would not want her photo distributed everywhere. Being on Politico was enough of a headache for her tbh).

I know Prentiss’ whole thing is she wanted to distance herself from her mother’s political life but she would still have friends and would have known more people as she climbed up the ladder in the FBI.

Other shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Elementary, and Person of Interest almost always use a kernel of similarity/parallelism in their various cases of the week as a jumping-off point to tell a richer story about their characters.

Criminal Minds does but selectively.

This is what makes the show frustrating. You can always tell when the show could have threaded the Case/Monster of the Week and connected the case to one of the characters.

Morgan and JJ also needed more exploration. The only one the writers they consistently use this with is Reid.

To the writer’s credit they have vaguely gestured at Emily’s mysterious past— setting up Emily’s existential crisis about her morality in the face of what she’s done while she worked for CIA and JTF-12.

But then the show goes several episodes mentioning the problem, an arc villain, and it’s frustrating!

(I sometimes lowkey wish some Whedon trained writers joined Criminal Minds to establish a good character-to-case ratio. Like, Jane Espenson. Or someone from Person of Interest writers room joining the Evolution writers team. The idea of Denise Thé writing for the CM ladies makes me yearn because delicious character development + inventive messed up twists. Erica Messer does a good job showrunning— a different job altogether than just writing for the show. But also— I yearn! Think about a POI caliber writer in a CM writers room! It would be so good to have, IMO. Not that PoI was entirely perfect either, I have my frustrations too!)

——

Chris Mundy seemed interested in delving into the internal lives of the characters, especially Emily’s. Demonology was really important for our understanding of Emily Prentiss.

Her guilt, her low-key self-loathing— the way she runs from the people she loves because she thinks she’s not worth it. The way she can conform to be anyone to fit into a situation and not stand out.

Her casual regard for sex as a tool to help her get accepted. All things that were helpful for Prentiss when she became a spy.

As Michael Westen from Burn Notice said: “People with happy families don’t become spies. A bad childhood is the perfect background for covert ops.”

TLDR— It’s just frustrating because they’re always nearly at the cusp of a great character driven procedural but then almost always back off from giving us really good food.

[headspacedad]

High Society

I've recently gone down the manhwa rabbit hole and I thought I'd share a few that I'm enjoying in case anyone else was looking for something to occupy their brain space. First off is High Society by Gyeonu and Surreuk Comics.

The premise of this story is that Caesar Bounaparte, the highest ranked noble on the island of Santenare, is, though the usual manhwa legal highjinks, engaged to marry Lucrezia Della Valle, a woman that's been obsessed with him for years. He's deeply opposed to the marriage but because its an old contract that someone of House Bounaparte must marry someone from the Della Valle family - and he's his family's only child, there's no way out for him. Enter Adele Vivi, a woman that's disguised herself as a man to survive in the slums of Santenare. Unfortunately for Adele, her secret has recently been discovered and there are people who intend to make a profit selling her to a brothel. What's a problem for Caesar, Adele sees as an opportunity and proposes a solution to benefit them both. She will pretend to be his long lost sister and marry Lucrezia's brother, fulfilling the contract. Its still selling herself but its a solution she's willing to take. And so begins our story of Adele's lessons to become the high society lady worthy to be called Caesar's sister - and Caesar's growing desire to keep her for himself.

So - yeah, it has the delicious premises that most bodice rippers of the 80s did with an updated way of dealing with it and I would eat that stuff with a spoon because the dynamics can be so delicious but what really sets this story apart is how non-route the parts are.

First lets talk world building. Santenare has this wonderful New Orleans feel to it deep in its bones. This is an island where beauty is worshiped, where the glitter is brighter and so the shadows are so much darker in response. The island is beloved by a goddess of the ocean, so the saying goes and there's the faint hint of salt and too deep dark water that threads under just about everything. High society glitters but they're cruel in an almost ravenous way. There's hints of shark's teeth under their smiles and they're much colder - and more accepting of that cold response - than most 'high society' setting are. The ocean, and the hidden goddess, is the flavoring of everything they do from their greetings to the way they punish traitors. Life is cheap, from the highest reach to the lowest and beauty and violence are the only powers that matter. The story doesn't shy away from darker tones, the 'fairy tale in the raw' vibes.

And then you've got the characters themselves.

Caesar is a bastard - but he's a charming bastard that doesn't hide the fact he's a bastard. He's the only one that matters in his world and he's not shy about enforcing that. He'll do what needs to be done to get what he wants and he'll never apologize for it. And yet he's written so well that you end up liking him because its so much fun to watch him dominating the society around him. He gets what he wants because he's both clever and charismatic and its just downright enjoyable to watch him work. And yet you're entirely comfortable disliking him at the same time for being such a jerk. As a matter of fact, its kind of fun to watch him be a jerk because he always gets consequences that hit him in the heart when he does and that's very rewarding to watch. You can watch him getting wound, one twist at a time in deliciously slow pacing. Several chapters back he badly damaged Adele and I have been enjoying watching him suffering with her response to that action for multiple chapters now. I am looking forward to more suffering on his part because his actions always have consequences and he's intelligent enough to recognize what they are when they hit him.

As for Adele, she's a quiet heroine. She's got fire in her but she's also come to a place in her life where she's willing to accept a great deal, things dropped into the deep ocean that simply get swallowed up and fall forever. She will push herself before she pushes others. It makes her a bit more passive than I usually like my Female Leads but it works with her and the story because she is also written so darned intelligent. She recognizes before she even makes a move that each action will have consequences and she carefully weighs whether those are consequences she's willing to suffer to reach wherever the action causing them would take her. She's still a bit naive, she's still a bit vulnerable but she's an observer and while she's in a new life and struggling to adjust, each chapter she gets closer to learning how to survive - and than manipulate - her circumstances. She doesn't have pride to get in the way - she's a survivor and whatever that takes is her priority. She started the story off by weighing being sold to a brothel or being sold in marriage to an aristocrat and she approaches each new situation with that same level mindset. She wears the masks necessary to protect herself and she'll switch to whatever one suits her best to survive. Currently, we're in the 'withdraw who I really am from you because you can't be trusted to protect me' part of her relationship with Caesar and let me tell you it is delicious watching him bleed during every interaction just because her eyes have gone hollow for him.

Also I'm half-rooting for the bodyguard and her. I know the story won't go that route but in another universe I want to read their story (the horse race just got to me, okay?).

She's also got something else going on with her that she doesn't seem aware of but the story is dropping wonderful hints about.

Now lets talk about how pretty this story is drawn

the bodyguard who makes her smile

Lucrezia who is not even trying to hide the obsession she's got going on

and Caesar's current favorite memory of Adele. Yes, she was threatening to cut his throat with a pair of scissors.

Rating: PG13+

Finished: no

warnings: blood, sexual situations threatened/implied, ML is an asshole, physical abuse (people get beat up, the governess is an asshole, talk about dying and the above threatening with scissors, etc), fear of crowds/being touched in crowds, child neglect

dimples?: yes

[itchywebreviews]

Exit/Corners - a game review

Are you looking for a game to scratch your Zero Escape itch?

Exit/Corners, by Canadian-based Moon Moth Games, is a free visual novel/puzzle game available on itch.io and playable in web browsers.

You play as Ink, a student who wakes up alongside four other strangers to find himself kidnapped and locked inside a mysterious abandoned hotel that's rigged to explode. They can escape, as long as these 'Contestants' solve a series of riddles and puzzles within a 24-hour time limit. Or, they can die.

Without spoilers, this game surprised and delighted me. It's 29 episodes, takes several hours to complete, and has detailed art and a custom soundtrack. I can strongly recommend it to anybody who enjoys character-focused mystery stories and simple but satisfying puzzles (and who doesn't have an issue with dark themes or depicted violence).

None of the puzzles felt 'unfair', as the game has a great hint system where you can ask the other Contestants for advice or their opinions, which gives you extra insight into their characters as well as providing hints. If you get really stuck, ask them enough times and they'll eventually spell out the answer for you.

The relationships that develop between the Contestants, positive and negative, form the emotional core that the plot needed to keep the reader invested. At first most of the characters are abrasive, stressed, and either insulting to or dismissive of each other. The only friendly face is Aether, the girl who woke up in the same room as you, but she has her own secrets she's keeping. As you can imagine from people picked to play a deadly game, all of them have hidden depths that they're unwilling to trust the other Contestants with—including Ink. Uncovering the pasts of each Contestants is as much part of the mystery as who brought them together, and why.

Generally I found each backstory reveal satisfying, placing each character's previous actions in new context. There was one particular reveal that worked so well on a meta-level that I felt genuinely called-out by the fact I hadn't realised what was happening. Actions that felt unrealistic or confusing could often be explained through later information, as well as the high-stakes situation revealing the best and worst sides of each Contestant.

The mystery plot was excellently foreshadowed. As new information is revealed, through Ink's internal monologue the reader is also gently reminded of relevant points they may have forgotten—allowing them a chance to put the clues together as Ink does without being excessively heavy-handed. Many of the biggest twists were hard to predict, with enough clues that I could guess some of the elements, whilst the actual unveiling left me staring at my screen in shock as my mind went over all the clues I'd overlooked or missed. The plot started slowly, picked up the pace as revelations started stacking on top of each other and revealing the shape of the plot, and in the last few chapters definitely sped up as the different mysteries converged together. The ending felt a little rushed, but each major plot thread and mystery was neatly resolved when the true purpose of Exit/Corners was explained.

This won't be a game for everybody, but for a completely free game that doesn't even require a download? If any of this interests you, give it a try. It might surprise you.

Spoiler-free warnings: This game includes depictions and discussions of graphic violence, depictions and discussions of mental illness and suicide, derogatory language, and internalised bigotry.

What's next for Moon Moth Games? Although they have a demo for an upcoming game called 'Séance: Spectral Noise' on their itchi.io page, there have been no official posts since March 2022. A twitter post from January 2023 stated the project ran into legal difficulties. There have been no subsequent updates.

[mumms-the-word]

In the Company of Wolves

Characters: Solas x fem!Lavellan Summary: Solas spends part of the evening at Halamshiral admiring Iren and pondering the similarities between an Orlesian masquerade and ancient Arlathan. When he's not being grim and fatalistic about it all, he's imagining a few naughty things he would like to do with Iren, should the evening give them a chance. Basically it's a whole lot of Solas pining and pondering and wishing, at least for one night, that he were not the Dread Wolf after all. A/N: Some of this is inspired by information we learn in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, but does not contain any Veilguard spoilers. Also, tried something new with verb tenses and flashbacks. I haven't decided if I like it yet, but an attempt was made! AO3 link if you want to read it there! MDNI 18+ even though most of the smut is relatively tame (teasing and such, you know)

Solas cradled a glass of wine in his hand, lifting it to his lips as he watched the Orlesian nobility wandering past. Each one was dressed in their finest silks and brocades, buttons and buckles gleaming, feathers floating, jewels sparkling. There was more wealth in one antechamber or narrow hallway here than in whole towns and villages around Orlais and Ferelden. And as was the fashion, the requirement of Orlais, every single one of them was masked, their faces covered with thin plaster or porcelain, paper-mâché or paint, imitating lips and noses and mustaches and carefully plucked brows. Faces upon faces. Falsehoods upon falsehoods.

It was as familiar as it was foreign. Had he come here alone, had there not been any threat of Corypheus and his Venatori conspirators, he would have been content to watch and observe. Smile to himself at the frivolous concerns of a nobility that cared more for their appearances than anything else and stand unseen and quietly amused at how seriously they conducted their clandestine affairs in half-hidden alcoves and darkened stairwells.

In this sea of masks, it was all too easy to believe they were little more than mindless animals, prettied and painted up to appear as intelligent creatures. If he wasn’t careful, everything would seem as a dream, each person drifting by as no more than a blur of meaningless color. Not real. Completely beneath his notice.

But then she would appear again, sweeping quietly through the hall, and the world would sharpen into focus again.

Iren. His vhenan.

She stood out among the crowd as easily as a single star in a void of night. Whereas everyone else here was dripping with color, turning about the room in their jewel tones, vibrant satins, and complex patterns, she was dressed simply and elegantly in a white dress of soft linen and breezy chiffon that left much of her sides and all of her arms bare. A brushed gold collar and matching thin belt gave the dress shape and held it close to her body, preserving all the necessary modesty that the court required, though her bare arms and sides had already been the subject of several scandalized whispers. Solas alone had overheard a handful of remarks here in this hall where he lingered, so he could only imagine the talk that went on in the ballroom proper. The court was undecided on which was the most offending detail, the sight of her bare skin or the dark red vallaslin she wore so boldly on her face, a vallaslin that also adorned her back and curled gently beneath her collarbone, faintly visible even beneath two layers of chiffon over linen.

She was ornamented lightly with gold in the same brushed finish as her collar and belt—a golden armband around one bicep, a set of simple thin bangles around both wrists, earrings that threaded thin chains between her earlobe and piercings that sat halfway up the line of her pointed ears. And of course the thin ring she always wore in her lip, the gold indenting her bottom lip and drawing the eye there every time. She had painted her hands with dark henna, a pattern of swirls that matched the markings of Sylaise on her face and darkened the tips of each finger to a shade of dark rust red. Crowning it all was a gold headdress of sorts, shaped in curving lines to form a pair of halla antlers that stretched back from her head.

She looked like a long-forgotten goddess among distracted mortals, a being from an ancient empire whom nobody could remember. She appeared simultaneously as a creature out of place and a being that rose above as something more.

She looked like one of the ancient elvhen.

No. He smiled to himself. Even among the nobility of ancient Arlathan she would have stood apart. There, the nobility had been just as opulent and colorful. More so, in fact, when Arlathan was at the height of its power. Iren, in all her simplicity, wearing only white and gold, would have appeared not as one of the Evanuris, but as something set apart. Something not even they would know what to do with.

He doubted she knew the effect her appearance had on those around her. She had wanted simple and she had gotten it, for better or worse. For here, simplicity was an outlier. Here, simplicity was rare.

Simplicity meant every eye was on her now, rather than passing over her.

As she drifted by him again, offering him a small smile that he returned as she made her way toward the gardens, he recalled how nervous she had been in the days leading up to this ball.

She paces his rotunda restlessly as she frets over the ambassador’s choice of fashion and uniform. “She’s talking about corsets and laces now, Solas.”

“Oh? Has our ambassador already selected your outfit for the evening?”

“She’s working on it.” She stops with a sigh, resting a hand on a stack of books that stand on his desk. “I requested her to go as simple as possible, but I’m not sure she understands what that word actually means.”

He laughs at that and takes her hand from his books, raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Lady Josephine can be reasoned with, after a fashion. She will honor your wishes if you communicate them clearly.”

“I just want to be…comfortable,” she says. But he knows that isn’t the word she wants to say. She wants to be helpful. She wants to heal hurts and move on. She wants to be invisible. She wants to be herself. It is, in part, why she is so drawn to Cole, and so protective over him. If she were a spirit, she would be Compassion.

But she is flesh and blood, and the Inquisition needs an Inquisitor. Who better than the woman who heals the sky and who stops the pain of every conflict ravaging the land?

He gently pulls her in close for a soft kiss. “Whatever you wear, you will be beautiful, my heart. You always are.”

And she was. The light of hundreds of candles illuminated golden light over her warm, dusky skin as if to cast her in polished bronze. The dark red of her vallaslin and henna added an enchanting, otherworldly effect to her natural beauty that these Orlesians, in all their paints and powders, didn’t know what to make of.

So as with anything they did not understand, they warped fear and curiosity into scorn and hostility.

Primitive. Rabbit. Savage. Knife-ear. Witch. The nobles used these words so carelessly, as though the sight of her bare skin and unmasked face were an open invitation. Like wolves, they surrounded her, thinking they scented blood, ready to sink their teeth into her flesh and tear her to shreds. They saw the halla antlers that adorned her head and thought her a prize beast to fell in a hunt.

She had predicted that.

He steps into her rented room in the city of Halamshiral, nodding quietly to the assistants who are putting the final touches on her face. A subtle dusting of shimmering powder on her eyelids, a line of dark kohl around her eyes, and a dark red stain on her lips, just a shade or two darker than that of her vallaslin and henna. Iren sees him in the mirror and dismisses the assistants with a smile.

“What do you think?” she asks, standing as the others file out of the room, leaving them alone. “I doubt I’ve ever worn this much finery in my entire life. This part in particular seems a little excessive.”

She touches the golden horns that curve and curl back from her head, an elegant mimicry of halla antlers to remind the court of her proud Dalish heritage. Her dark hair has been carefully arranged to cover the headbands that keep them secure on her head, the rest of her long tresses left to fall loose down her back and over her shoulders. He clasps his hands behind his back and smiles.

“You wear them well,” he says. “And the court will certainly have opinions about them.”

“Of course. I can’t wait for someone to call me a halla rider and think it’s a compliment. I’d almost rather they just insult me outright.”

Her eyes drift away from him, toward a painting that hangs on one wall. A group of Orlesian nobility dressed in the fashion of the age long since passed, gathered as a hunting party, their bows drawn. At their feet and beside the fine horses, sleek gray hunting hounds lead them through the forest. Their prey, a white halla with silver horns.

“They hunt them for their pelts and antlers, you know,” she says quietly. “In Orlais, a single halla is worth a fortune. Dead, of course. No point in capturing the creature alive.”

He says nothing. He is all too aware of the destructive tendencies of a people who would rather attack first than seek to understand, to appreciate, to learn. After a moment, Iren purses her lips, playing idly with the bangles around one wrist.

“I wonder what they will think of me.”

“They will think you are simple and easily defeated.” He smiles. “And like the stubborn, clever halla, who has no doubt felled many an arrogant Orlesian hunter, you will prove them wrong.”

She had said nothing to that, but he had seen how she entered the main ballroom, how she had navigated the first hour of the masquerade. As they thought, the nobility here watched her with predatory stares, eager to pounce on a single mistake. They tittered behind their fans and perfumed the air with cruel whispers. They murmured ridicule just low enough to sit at the edge of one’s hearing,

She had acted as though they hadn’t spoken, keeping her back straight and her chin high as she entered the ballroom on the Grand Duke’s arm. She had curtsied to Empress Celene, walked a confident circuit of the ballroom, and made it out into the hallway where Solas had taken up a place in one corner. It wasn’t until she had slipped her hand in his that he noticed the tremor in her fingers, the fine trembling tension that sang in her body as her blood thrummed with adrenaline and fear. On the surface, she had kept all of that hidden away.

He was the only one who knew how terrified she was.

“You will be fine, vhenan. And I will be here if you need me.”

But she didn’t need him. Or at the very least, she had no need to rely on him as a wounded man might rely on a crutch. She was, above all, adaptable and clever, and she had a natural grace and elegance that made her seem nearly at home among the more civilized Orlesians. They still derided her, of course. But they found very little purchase for their barbed words and veiled insults.

He watched her through the window as she perched on one of the railings that lined two sides of the Winter Palace garden, only a few feet away from him. The only things separating them were clear glass panels, but she didn’t look his way. She sipped from a glass of wine and pretended to find something interesting in the statuary of the fountain, but he knew she was listening for secrets. Feigning indifference or boredom to lure others into a false sense of security, where they may let slip something vital within earshot.

But then, as he watched, she lifted a hand and traced one finger against a spot on her neck, beneath her hair.

Ah. He smiled again. Perhaps her mind was not as much on the mission as he thought.

She turns to look again in the mirror of that room in Halamshiral. Her eyes are on the halla horns she wears, contemplating his words about proving the court wrong. He comes up softly behind her and wraps his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Beside her, he looks pale and sharp, his indigo eyes darkened by the falling evening light. Still weak. A shadow of what he had once been. A humble disguise he didn’t even have to fabricate.

He focuses on her instead, admiring the curve of her brows over her dark brown eyes, the shape of her lips when she purses them faintly as she considers the two of them in the mirror.

He presses a slow kiss to her bare shoulder. “You will be the envy of all the court, ma vhenan.”

Her lips flicker with a darkly amused smile. “No, I won’t. Even with all this finery, I have no doubt I’ll be the most underdressed guest at the masquerade.”

He hums into her skin as he brushes another kiss against her shoulder. “But you are beautiful. You are enchanting. I doubt even the empress herself could compare.”

“Only to you, perhaps.”

To that he says nothing. Instead, he carefully moves aside the long, dark hair that trails over her shoulder, pushing it back to bare her throat above her golden collar. From his place behind her, he has easy access to the space just below and behind her long, slender ear, and it is there that he kisses now, lathing his tongue against her neck before gently taking her skin between his teeth in little nips. She relaxes against him, nearly melting, listing her head to one side to give him better access.

“Solas…” His name is a sigh, a breath from her lungs.

“Relax, my heart,” he purrs against her throat.

One of his hands finds purchase in her skirt, slowly and carefully drawing it up until his fingers brush against warm skin rather than cool fabric. He brushes his fingers up the inside of her thigh, inching closer and closer to her heat, only to smooth his touch back down and away. Teasing and tempting, the game they play, have played, since that first kiss in the Fade. She shifts, parting her legs to give him better access as she leans back against him, but he ignores the invitation. They don’t have time for what he wants, what he has planned. It would have to wait. For now, though…

He flicks his gaze back toward the mirror, watching her eyes flutter closed as his fingertips brush featherlight against her inner thigh again, close but not quite where she wants him. He sees himself in the reflection, too, his lips pressed against her skin as he sucks a dark mark onto her throat just below her ear. He watches them both, his gaze hungry, intense, while she relaxes back against him with her head to one side. The halla antlers curve back over their shoulders, glinting in the warm evening light. As the last of the daylight falls, shadows creeping into the room, his pupils reflect gold-green, a predator’s gaze in the dark.

If they had a few moments more…

A knock at the door brings him back to his senses.

“Are you ready, Inquisitor? We are gathering outside at the carriages now.”

The ambassador’s voice. Iren shifts as if to draw away, but Solas wraps an arm tighter around her, determined to finish what he started with the mark on her neck. “Y-yes,” she calls. “I’ll be down in a moment!”

He listens for the telltale sound of a latch being thrown at the door, but instead they hear footsteps drawing away. Satisfied, he finally lifts his head, brushing her hair away to admire his work.

There, just below her ear, a red love mark almost dark enough to match the red of her vallaslin and henna. By the end of the night, it will be bruise purple. A semi-permanent mark of his own making. One more adornment to add to her finery.

He smiles and rearranges her hair to cover the mark, hiding it from view. A secret, just for them.

Back in the garden, she seemed to catch herself and dropped her hand in her lap, idly rubbing the fabric of her dress between her thumb and forefinger. She had chided him when she caught a glimpse of the mark in the mirror. But her hair hid the bruise, so long as she kept it over her shoulder, as she did now. No one knew it was there, except for the two of them.

She turned her head again, following the sound of some whispered secret or another. With her dark profile set against the white and blue of the Winter Palace, he was free to admire the curve of her aquiline nose and the plump shape of her lips. Strong features. Regal features. You would not have found them among the nobility of the ancient Elvhen, who favored delicate noses and pointed chins, large eyes and small mouths. But the ancient Elvhen had not made her.

She was a product of this world. The world he had been forced to create and had hated with each step in its hollow realm. Millennia of elves fighting, surviving, fleeing, dying, carving out an existence in a world that should have been their ready inheritance, all funneled down to the happy accident of her birth, her creation. Solas hated the Dalish for the same reasons he hated the Orlesians—their arrogance in thinking they knew the world, knew their own history, better than any outsider might. But for all that he disliked the Dalish, they had done one thing right.

They had made her.

She was so beautiful. But that wasn’t the only thing that had drawn him in. She was kind and empathetic; she felt every emotion too deeply, raw and ragged, even as she was forced to suppress it all to maintain her solid facade as the Inquisitor. And she was stubborn, too, as immovable as a rock in a churning sea. She didn’t stop until a task was complete and someone got the aid they needed, whether that be healing a wound, clearing out bandits in a fortress, or saving a wayward druffalo. She sought wisdom and guidance when she needed it, but once her mind was set, there was no persuading her.

But she wasn’t reckless. If anything, she was patient, selfless to a fault, watching everyone else and planning ways to help them, often at the expense of herself. He recognized these traits easily. He shared them, or he had once, when the world was different. When the Evanuris ruled, and these traits were what he had aspired to. Kindness. Patience. Resilience. Selflessness. She bore these traits better than he ever had.

His stare must have been more piercing or intense than he intended. She turned her head, as if feeling the weight of his gaze, and their eyes locked through the panes of glass that separated them. He offered her a light toast with his goblet, a smile playing on his lips.

To your hunt, ma vhenan.

A hint of a smile flickered on her plump lips. She pretended not to notice his toast, turning her head away again. But then she gathered her hair carefully over one shoulder, bearing her neck toward him. Bearing the side that was, as of yet, blemish free. He saw her dark eyes flick back toward him, trying to gauge his reaction in the corner of her eye.

An open invitation, or a tease. Solas suppressed a smirk.

He wasn’t certain whether it was the wine or the atmosphere or some other terrible influence that was weakening his resolve, but the sight of her skin, offered so freely, tempted him almost beyond his control. He longed to pull her aside into some hidden shadowed corner and make a mark to match the one she already wore beneath one ear. To guide her away, his hand on her hip, fingers brushing over her bare waist, while the eyes of the court followed them and whispered about how dreadfully forward the Inquisitor’s elven serving man was being, to touch her so openly and boldly. Then to find a private corner away from all else and press her back against the cold marble of some column or wall, inhaling her surprised gasp as he closed the distance between them for a kiss, slipping his hands through the opening of her dress to the smooth planes of her back.

If this were any other party, if they were there for any other reason than to stop a madman’s agents from threatening chaos over an entire nation, he might give in to such fantasies. It would be all too tempting, once he had her there in those imagined, stolen moments, to lose himself to her henna-stained touch. To guide her fingers to the buttons of his coat and press in close, hiking her skirts up just enough to slip his thigh between her bare legs and leave her with nowhere to go, save closer to him. Her sex against him. Her perfect breasts heaving against him. Her panting breaths mingling with his.

They’d have to get rid of the halla antlers, of course, if he was going to make such ample use of the wall to satisfy them both. Pull them free from her hair and toss them aside as he caught the skin of her neck between his teeth again. A halla caught in the jaws of a wolf…

His smirk faded as the thought, unbidden, bitter, sarcastic, invaded his fantasy. What was that old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf take you? And now the fantasy was ruined, as reality crashed down around him. A reality of his own making.

Not that she had any way of knowing the irony. Here, she thought the Orlesian nobility were like wolves, crowding around her on the hunt for blood. If she had any idea who he was, who he had been, would she bare herself so openly to him? Would she look at him the way she did these days? With nothing but tenderness and care, and perhaps more than a little hunger of her own? No. If she ever truly knew…

There was no one here to warn her save himself. And he could not. It would risk everything, ruin everything, and it…it was too soon.

Even so, he could all too easily imagine the whispers that would follow her if his secret was known. Old Dalish warnings and snide comments from the ancient elvhen, allies of the Evanuris, mingled together in his mind.

See how the Dread Wolf stares at her, so lurid and open. See how his great, fanged jaws salivate for a taste of her flesh. Cavort not with wolves, young elvhen, lest you fall prey to their charms. For He Who Hunts Alone may devour you, if you let him draw close, and then where will you be?

He tightened his grip on his glass of wine and then, after a moment, set it aside. This masquerade brought too much of the old Solas out of him. All this courtly intrigue, this heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex, it all felt so familiar that he could easily conjure the sort of talk the elvhen would have said, had said, about him.

Some things never changed. The scorn was the same, it was only the words that differed. And here, just as it was then, the powerful preyed on the weak and boasted their victories prematurely, while others lay in wait for their chance to usurp, to upset the balance, to rebel and create change.

Like his Inquisitor, he supposed. For all his wine-muddled thoughts about wolves and halla, predators and prey, Iren was ultimately neither. Though she wore the halla antlers for the sake of costuming and carried herself with the elegance of nobility, and though she was on the hunt for agents of the Elder One to stop his plans before they even began, she did not fit so easily in these categories. She was neither halla, nor noble, nor huntress.

She was what she had professed to be from the start, when she had first introduced herself to him. A shepherd guarding her flock. A Dalish Keeper in training.

Therein lay the true irony. He should have seen it from the beginning.

“I am surprised you offered to stand watch,” he says, approaching her as she sits by the campfire in the midst of the Ferelden Hinterlands. After only two weeks of knowing her, she remains a mystery. Beautiful. Gifted in magic and in healing. Quiet, but stubborn. She is the bearer of the Anchor, a gift that should never have been hers, but which she has learned to use with surprising rapidity. But as with so many others in this world, she still seems a little unreal. Unfinished. Unrefined.

Yet he can’t help but be drawn to her, at least a little. The warm tones of her skin, the soft fall of her dark russet hair, the ring she wears in her lip that never fails to draw his gaze. The way she tilts her head, listening closely to his words when he speaks. The way her eyes flash with surprising anger when someone attempts to dissuade her from a path she has chosen to take. There are hints of cleverness within her he wants to see more of, despite knowing that what he ought to do is keep himself distanced and aloof.

At his casual remark, she looks up at him, the glow of the firelight warming her dusky skin. “Pardon?”

“I would not have expected one of the Dalish mages to be accustomed to the task,” he says, by way of explanation. “I suspect most of them sleep comfortably while their hunters do all the watching…and lose all the sleep.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” she says, smiling dryly. “In my clan, the Keeper, the First, and the Second each take one of the three night watches with the hunters. The Keeper always takes the first watch, then the First takes the middle watch, and the Second the third watch early in the morning. In Clan Lavellan, there is always a mage awake and relatively alert every hour of the night. Just so you know, the middle watch is the worst.”

He tilts his head. These Dalish clans never do the same thing twice, he’s found. “Fascinating. And what do you keep watch for? Bandits and wolves, like your hunters do? Or are you there to watch for demons?”

Her dry smile is still on her lips, but it shifts. “Any of it. Among other things.”

She twists a thick sylvanwood ring on her first finger, carved to depict a wolf flanked on either side by delicate elven figures. The elves face away from the wolf, as if marching toward a destination not depicted on the ring. He recognizes the scene instantly. A depiction of the Betrayal. Or at least, how the Dalish remember it.

It was a gift from her Keeper to guide her on the way to the Conclave, she had once told him, the first time he had noticed the ring. A reminder of the people she left behind. A people she hopes one day to return to and eventually to lead.

“Anyone can watch for bandits,” she continues. “But we were meant to watch for something else. Someone else.”

She twists the ring on her finger again. He knows the answer even before the name crosses her lips, a title he will never be able to escape, not even in death.

“Fen’Harel. The Dread Wolf. It is our job to keep him from leading our people astray.”

If she only knew…

No. It would shatter her. She would be left ashamed and embarrassed, or worse, betrayed. He would lose her in an instant.

He would never be able to tell her the truth. No matter how much he longed to. No matter how much he saw in her the traits and strengths and the determination that he himself had once exemplified in his early days of rebellion. If this were another time, another place, perhaps then he could bring himself to trust her with the truth. But those days were long gone. Elvhenan was gone. He had destroyed it.

How different would things be, would things have been, if she were there in the days of the Elvhenan empire? Would she have sided with him in rebellion, or clung to Sylaise as a devoted follower or slave? He doubted sincerely that she would be content in slavery, content to sit idly by while people suffered the whims of the powerful and the corrupt. If she had been born in the time of ancient Arlathan, if she had been part of his rebellion against the Evanuris, if he had been drawn to her in the days after Mythal, would she have been able to find a better solution that he could not see at the time? Would her wisdom have shown her better paths?

Would he even have listened?

That was the real question, and he knew the answer. He wouldn’t have. He hadn’t listened to the friends he’d had. And even now, seeing what world he had created, he wasn’t entirely certain that if he had the chance to go back and correct his mistakes he would choose any differently.

All this, to stop powerful tyrants and would-be gods…

“Solas?”

He blinked, drawn from his brooding thoughts by the sound of Iren’s voice. She stood now just a few steps away, waiting for him to see her. And as before, the world crystallized with her at the center. Everything made a little more real.

He softened his brooding expression as best he could. “Ah. My apologies, vhenan. My mind was…elsewhere.”

She fought a smile, but he could see it twitching at the corners of her mouth, her lip ring glinting in the candlelight. Unbidden, his thoughts were drawn there, focused and warm. He wanted to catch the ring between his teeth and tug gently at her lip while his hands pulled her flush against him. He wanted—but then she smiled, amused, and he realized how brazenly he stared at her mouth.

“I can guess where your mind was,” she murmured. “But…later. We still have work to do.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice even further. “No matter how much I might wish otherwise.”

“Indeed,” he breathed. Better that she thought his mind wholly distracted by her than to suspect him of other treachery. And, if he were honest, it was all too easy for his mind to turn, again and again, to the subject of her beauty, in praise of her figure, lost in fantasies of what he would do if he didn’t fear the consequences so much. He cleared his throat gently. Back to work. “How goes your search?”

“Something is happening in the servant’s wing nearest the ballroom,” she said, keeping her voice quiet, lest anyone try to overhear. “It has me worried about the elven servants…”

“You think they are involved?”

“I think they’re being killed, and that worries me.” She gnawed at the corner of her upper lip a moment. Then she forced a little smile, as if they were once more flirting, their words meaningless and shallow. “Can I interest you in a distraction soon?”

“You are already a distraction, ma vhenan,” he said softly, taking the risk, despite all the eyes and ears potentially turned their way, of taking her hand and lifting it for a brief kiss. “But I understand your question. I would be very interested. And I am ready whenever you are.”

“Good. The door in the next room, down the stairs, to your left. I’ll have it unlocked soon. Meet me there in a few moments.”

“As you say.”

“And…Solas?”

“Yes, vhenan?”

She hesitated, the first obvious sign of reluctance or even doubt he had seen in the time since they’d entered the grounds of the Winter Palace. Her hand was still in his. In her hesitant silence, she gave his fingers a fierce, firm squeeze, as if she were nervous and seeking reassurance.

“Nothing,” she said quietly. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re here with me. That’s all. I don’t think I could do all of this without you.”

And just like that, he remembered just how mortal, how fragile she was compared to the elvhen, the Evanuris, compared even to himself, weakened as he now was. This was not Arlathan. She was not one of the People. She was Dalish, part of a quickened race of elves who forgot everything and clung to legends and fanciful stories as if they were true history.

And he loved her. His foolish bleeding heart couldn’t help but love her. Try as he might to harden his heart, to remain callous, distanced, cold, neutral, he couldn’t. With her hand in his, drawing strength and courage from his touch, her warm brown eyes earnestly seeking his to convey not just gratitude, but love, her plump lips holding the hint of a smile meant just for him and no one else, how could he do anything but love her? As she was. Mortal. Dalish.

Real.

He wished he could be anything but the Dread Wolf in that moment. That he could be nothing other than an odd, wandering, elven apostate, a scholar of the Fade. That he could set everything aside and be what she needed him to be, nothing more, nothing less. That this night would end with a victory, in some form or fashion, and her hand once more in his as he led her to a private room to celebrate. No more danger of the Dread Wolf leading the Dalish Keeper astray. Just a man in love with a woman and proving his love with searing touches and whispered words. He would give anything to be just that, to be the man she believed him to be.

She saw the best in him. He wanted so dearly to live up to her vision.

Perhaps, for tonight, he could try.

Let there be other wolves. For one night, let him be as he began, simply Solas, and as he wished to become, a man devoted to his heart’s desire. His Inquisitor. His Iren.

He lifted her hand to his lips for another kiss, reverent and slow, a silent response to her remarks. Then he let her go, watching as she slipped her hand reluctantly from his and drew away; watching as the eyes of Orlesian nobles and elven servants alike turned to follow her as she left the room.

She had nothing to fear from them. She had already faced worse than an Orlesian court. Like so many other obstacles she had already faced and overcome, she would find a way forward, a way to help those who needed help, a way to stop the Elder One from sowing chaos. She would succeed, one way or another, because that was simply what she did. She could handle a few predatory glares and poisonous whispers, in light of all that.

She would be fine. She had grown accustomed to the company of wolves, for better or for worse, whether she knew it or not.

But for tonight, he would not be another among them.

[memento-morri-writes]

Carrion Backstory Chapter 4 - "Fear & Hunger / Human Nature"

Chapter 1 [+ author commentary] / Chapter 2 [+ author commentary] / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 [+ author commentary]

pov: Carrion wordcount: 2.3k character(s): Carrion Vice (D&D), Arran (random backstory NPC) canon status: canon backstory trigger warnings: violence, blood, non-graphic injury mention, mentions of animal death, non-graphic discussion of hunting summary: Arran teaches Carrion several important lessons

Carrion and Arran threaded their way through the trees, their path lit by the fading light of the setting sun. They’d lost several hours lying in wait for a herd of elk, only for Carrion to startle them at the wrong moment, and now they had nothing to show for the day’s events. Guilty and regretful, Carrion had been the one to remind Arran of the snares they had set that morning, and they’d set off, hoping to get their hands on something to eat for dinner before the day’s light vanished completely. 

There were things back at camp, yes, but they were already dressed and packaged, waiting for Arran to take them back down the mountain to be sold. Cutting into one of them would be cutting into his profits, and Carrion didn’t want to do that to his new friend. So they made haste, walking as fast as they could without making too big of a racket. 

Trusting in his companion’s sense of direction, Carrion allowed his mind to wander, considering the events of the past few days. It had been almost a week since he’d woken in Arran’s camp, and he couldn’t help but feel that he had gotten very lucky. Not only had the hunter saved his life by tending to his injuries, but he had also allowed Carrion to stay with him and continue to recover. Despite his initial wariness, Carrion had quickly realized that if Arran planned to hurt him, he would have done so when he found him, beaten and barely breathing.

As the days passed, they had fallen into something resembling comfort. Still recovering from the wounds and infection that had almost killed him, Carrion had been glad for a safe place to sleep and someone to watch his back. For his part, Arran seemed glad for the company, despite Carrion’s refusal to talk about the mysterious circumstances that had landed him half-dead in the middle of the road. 

As Carrion’s condition had continued to improve, Arran had offered to take him out into the woods and teach him a bit about survival. Carrion had gratefully accepted the offer, hopeful that the knowledge might prove useful. The initial lessons, which began even before Carrion could leave their camp, went well enough. He learned how to clean and dress a carcass, and how to cook almost any kind of meat. He learned what meats cooked up soft and tender, and which were better suited to a char. Arran taught him about herbs, both flavorful and useful. Once he was well enough, Arran took him out to set snares and traps. Carrion absorbed all of it eagerly, his appetite for knowledge almost as big as his appetite for food. 

Secretly, some part of him started to dream of living a life like this. Hunting in the woods, staying away from people for days or weeks at a time, before returning to civilization to sell his wares. It would be perfect, he thought. No one would ever have to know about the monster lurking under his skin. 

But then had come their first hunting venture. They’d waited for hours, hidden by a camouflaged tarp that Arran had put up. When a suitable target had finally shown its face – a beautiful herd of elk, grazing in the forest – Carrion had ruined it. It had only been the slightest of movements, but his weight – much more than Arran’s slight form – had caused a twig to snap, and the elk had bolted. Their chance was lost.

And now here they were, trekking through a quickly darkening forest. Arran had reassured him that no nighttime predators would be out yet, and that few animals would be willing to tangle with a pair of humanoids. “They’re more afraid of us than we are of them, really. You don’t have anything to worry about unless they get real desperate,” he had said.

He was jolted from his reverie by Arran grabbing his arm. Carrion wrenched it free. “What?” he hissed. Arran knew well enough by now that he didn’t take well to be touched, which suited both of them just fine.

Arran tipped his head in the direction of the grove of bushes ahead of them. Blinking, Carrion realized they had reached the place where they had laid their snares. The bushes obscured anything within the grove, and Carrion turned back to Arran, opening his mouth to question him further. Arran held a finger to his lips and gestured towards the grove. Look.

Irritated, Carrion turned back to the thicket of bushes in front of them. They were still maybe thirty yards off, and in the dying light, he had to squint to make out any details. Letting his eyes relax in the way Arran had taught him, he scanned the thicket for movement.

There. A rustle of movement, a creature in the bushes. It was inside, the thicket, too deep to see what it was. Carrion turned back to Arran, eyes questioning. What do we do? 

Arran hesitated, clearly weighing his options. He gestured for Carrion to stay put, then pointed towards himself, then the grove. Stay here. I’ll go look.

Carrion nodded. If there was prey to be had, he didn’t want to fuck it up again. He stood stock still, afraid to take a single step, as Arran slunk off in the direction of the thicket. Slowly, ever so slowly, he inched closer and closer. 

He had made it maybe two-thirds of the way there when he froze. Turning back to Carrion, he gestured frantically. The light had almost completely faded, and he stood at the edge of Carrion’s darkvision, making it hard for him to make out his gestures. 

Cautiously, he took a couple steps forward, keeping his eyes glued to the ground for any stray twigs that might betray his presence. When he glanced up, he saw that Arran’s eyes were wide, and he was frantically shaking his head. He pointed urgently back towards the trees. Back up, now! he seemed to be saying. 

Carrion’s heart began to race. Whatever was in those bushes, it wasn’t the tasty dinner they had hoped for. Without thinking, he took a step back. 

SNAP!

The sound was quiet, yet somehow it seemed deafening in the quiet forest. Its sharp, harsh crack clashed with the gentle rustling of leaves. Carrion stared at Arran, frozen. Was it better to keep moving backwards as he had instructed, or was any movement a risk?

The motion in the thicket stopped. Was that a good thing? Arran had said most forest creatures were more afraid of humans than we were of them. Maybe it was waiting for them to leave.

His hope was shattered as the leaves of the bushes were pushed aside and Carrion was able to see the creature that had been hidden within. A mountain lion, its tawny fur studded with rocks. The ridges above its narrowed ears gave the impression of horns, and its yellow eyes seemed to almost glow in the deepening gloom. The fur around its mouth was matted with fresh blood, the large canine teeth stained a matched red. Distantly, Carrion realized it must have been eating something caught in one of their traps.

It stared at them, sizing them up. Did mountain lions have darkvision? Carrion didn’t know. He watched as it took a step forwards, then another, moving with soundless grace that he would be envious of if he wasn’t so terrified. 

As the creature stepped further out of the brush, he realized why Arran was so afraid. The creature was thin, ribs visible under its sagging skin. Scars across its body interrupted the growth of fur. This creature was old, and it was hungry. 

Carrion’s heart pounded in his chest as he remembered Arran’s words. “What do you mean, desperate?” Carrion had asked. 

“I mean starving,” the hunter had replied, “There’s one thing that drives animals above all else. One part of their nature that they can’t put aside, no matter what. And that is hunger. It drives them mad, makes them forget their fear. So if you ever meet a creature in the woods, you’d better pray to all the gods – old and new – that it isn’t hungry.”

Carrion hadn’t grasped what the man had meant at the time, but looking at the creature in front of him, he understood. The only thought on the mountain lion’s mind was food, and they had just interrupted its meal. Not only that, but in place of the measly rabbit it had been feasting on, now there was bigger prey. 

Please, Carrion pleaded. Let this animal be a clever one. Let it understand that there are two of us and one of it. Let it decide to walk away so we might all live another day. He had no idea who he was addressing, and as a cool breeze sent a shiver down his spine, he felt certain nothing had heard him.

Heart in his throat, he watched as Arran slowly turned to face the mountain lion. They stared at each other, eyes locked, a lifetime stretching out between heartbeats. 

“What if I do come across something nasty in the woods?”  Carrion had asked what felt like an eternity ago.

“Don’t look them in the eyes,” Arran said. “It only makes them angrier. And whatever you do, no sudden movements.”

The tense silence was broken by a gentle shiiiing as Arran slowly drew the shortsword he kept at his hip. There was no time to string a bow. This was a time for steel.

The mountain lion tensed its muscles, legs gathering beneath itself. No one moved. Carrion could have sworn none of them breathed. 

A flick of the tail was the only warning they got before the mountain lion exploded into motion, launching itself through the air towards Arran. 

The creature may have been old, but it was still fast. Carrion wanted to cry out, give him some kind of warning (useless. He was certainly aware of the creature barreling down on him), but he barely had time to draw breath before the creature landed on Arran, knocking him to the ground. It snarled and spat as it clawed at the man struggling beneath it. 

Its head reared back, mouth opening to sink its massive teeth into Arran’s throat, and– 

Carrion slammed into its side, his massive claws – now comparable in size to the creature’s canines – ripping into its fur. One hand skidded off of the rocky studs embedded in the cat’s flesh, but the other found its mark. Warm blood coated his fingers. 

The cat yowled in pain, tumbling off of Arran. Carrion wanted to look down, make sure his friend was still breathing, but his attention was fixed on the creature in front of him. He bared his teeth and let out a growl of his own, a deep rumble that radiated from his chest until he could feel it in his bones.

The mountain lion pinned its ears back and snarled, but it seemed uncertain. It had banked on two fleshy humanoids. It had not been expecting Carrion.

He took a step forwards, raising a clawed hand, and the cat made up its mind. With one last spitting hiss, it turned and ran, disappearing into the forest.

Carrion stared after it for several seconds, making sure it was actually gone, before he turned back to Arran. The man was struggling to his feet, holding his bleeding sword arm in one hand. Several gashes and claw marks were visible on his arms and shoulders, but none of them seemed particularly deep. It seemed like his tough leather armor had protected his vital organs.

Shrinking back to his normal size, Carrion rushed towards him. Arran scrambled backwards, waving his shortsword wildly. “G-get the fuck away from me!” he panted. His eyes were wide and his face was pale.

Carrion held up his hands. “Arran, it’s me! Carrion! Are you alright?”

Arran shook his head vigorously. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not Carrion. You’re some kind of monster!” He spat the last word with such disgust that Carrion recoiled as though he had been struck. 

Fear gripped his heart. His chest began to constrict as though bound in chains once again. “I’m not a monster!” He screamed. Against his will, his voice deepened to a near-growl and purple began to bleed into the edges of his vision. His muscles strained, aching to expand. Arran backed even further away. Carrion pulled his body back under control. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“S-stay away from me. Don’t follow me. Don’t fucking follow me.” Arran brandished his sword with a trembling arm. “If I see you anywhere near the campsite, I’ll kill you.”

He backed away, stumbling over roots and branches, eyes still fixed on Carrion. Carrion watched him, motionless. Once he was a few dozen yards away, Arran turned and ran, glazing occasionally over his shoulder to make sure Carrion wasn’t following. Within seconds, he was gone.

Carrion stared after him for a long, long time. After several moments, he fell to his knees and dug his fingers into the mossy forest floor. He’d lost control again. He’d been abandoned again. A wave of fury and grief washed over him, and he screamed. The sound shattered the still evening, and he heard a flurry of movement as the forest’s inhabitants fled. He kept going, sustaining the sound until there was no breath in his body left to expel. 

Gasping for breath he slumped forwards, bracing his weight on his arms. The ragged breaths turned into sobs as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He’d had a second chance, a chance at being human, and he had failed. Maybe Arran was right. Maybe he was a monster.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The real trouble with Shadowstruck is that I've got two plot threads that are working against each other.

The story is supposed to be about Clara changing her father's views toward shades.

The story revolves around Clara fleeing from her father and living among people who do everything they can to keep her out of his grasp.

She's twelve! Her new friends are going to do everything they can to keep her away from the people who want to kill her. Even if we say she decides to go against their wishes and meet with her father to try to get through to him--well, why? Why does she have to meet him in person? Why would she risk putting herself in his power again? Why would he listen to someone who he not only thinks isn't a person, but who is working with his enemies?

There are some options for how they could interact:

Moments where her father comes to the activists' headquarters, and she's able to interact with him while several activists are protecting her. (They might not speak as openly with witnesses, and the activists are likely to jump in and take over the debate).

Clara could write letters to her father trying to explain herself, and to her surprise, he starts to show signs of changing views (either at public events or in responses to her letters). This is not very dynamic storytelling, though--instead of scenes illustrating the point, we just get people talking about the issues. (Also, this seems to require Clara to have an adult's understanding of the issues.)

Clara could be taken out of the country for her safety, then we can let several years pass, and she comes back as an adult who is has the freedom to take her own risks and make her own decisions to try to reconcile with her father. (Maybe a deathbed moment?) This makes the story much less focused. There's some compelling emotion, and it does seem to be a realistic way to get him to change his views, but it doesn't have the same dramatic impact as him making a decision to accept the daughter when her shade status is still new.

We can make some use of option one, though it can't be the whole of their interactions. The letters are also a compelling possibility. Perhaps when she's among the activists, being paraded around a political tool, and hidden away all other times for her own safety, she finds that she doesn't have any more agency than she did when she was tied to her mother's heartlight. But she remembers how her mother connected with people through letters, and she decides to write to her father, talking about her struggles with this whole situation--how she doesn't want to be part of politics, but she also doesn't want her dad to hurt anyone. Maybe she offers to stop speaking out against him if he stops speaking against shades. It could be possible to have her talk about this in a very innocent, childish way. And maybe the sheer fact that she's writing, not as a political opponent making dazzling arguments, but as a young girl talking about her feelings, starts to get through to him.

It wouldn't even need to be a long correspondence. A letter or two, to set up the possibility of him softening, before the climactic moment when either he or she or both of them have to act to help the other one, showing that they see each other as people and accept them as father/daughter.

There's a lot of other fuzzy areas in these arcs that will need developing. But maybe this shows the story isn't irredeemably broken yet?

[goattypegirl]

So I was looking through my drafts and found this post about Project Skybox and the Interloper ARG from a few months ago. I think I wrote it after Part 9. Part C came out yesterday and some of the stuff I yapped about became slightly relevant/aged... Strangely? I have more thoughts about Part C but I'll save those for later.

I'm going to use Anomidae when referring to the series creator, and Anomi for the in universe character and Project Skybox to collectively refer to Anomi, Lucy, and anyone else involved.

So with any in-progress story with any element of mystery or intrigue, people make every single possible permutation of "X character is actually Y" theories, and I don't buy them. Like I don't think Anomi is actually Eida or whatever. There's mayyybeee one person who's involved with both Anomi and Eida's investigations, and that's JMan from the forum thread (first guy to make a demo, actually). He's also Eida's channel partner/voice actor. The only "evidence" for that is that Eida's crasher video is really crusty on the archive channel, but is a lot clearer in Anomi's video, which could mean Anomi had access to the original recording? It's also kind of weird that the annotated copy of the forum thread on the project skybox site gives JMan and only JMan the role of "Expert". There is also the mysterious JJ in the hidden text in the graffiti with the commands? Idk, I dont think this is anything.

Speaking of generic theories I don't like, I don't think Anomi is hiding information from the audience. At least, not maliciously. I think he's just omitting information that he doesn't think is currently relevant. Anomi and Eida are foils to each other. They're investigating the same thing, but they have very different approaches and theories about what's happening, and they both have their own blindspots which keeps them from seeing the bigger picture. So like, yeah, some of the Tuesday manifest demos are really weird, but Anomi had more pressing things to do, like poking SkyGhost for several months. There is literally a curated playlist on the channel of people dissecting the demos. He knows about the weird stuff in the demos, and he knows that we know he knows that. It's just not important to bring up right now.

Also, I don't think this is a petscop situation where the investigation gets coopted by other people. Lucy and project skybox's introductions seem sudden, but it's always sounded like Anomi's talking to someone off screen or in a discord call or something imo. The FourTwo/title card, Ravencheck/Gris connections, and Olive/🔴Live things are a bit weird, but I think they're just coincidences or dramatic irony. If there is a diagetic reason for them, it's not malicious. Like, what's more likely, Anomi was a member of this small CGI startup in 1991 that evolved into the server hosting/ai developer FSky during the 2000's-2010's, then in 2021 started a YouTube series about the weird things his company did and has been playing dumb this whole time... Or did Anomi pay homage to this weird computer graphics urban legend which he hosts on his site? Like if he's trying to hide this information, Anomidae could have hidden it better.

That all being said... Theres one thing I can't make sense of. Episode 5. The editing is really rough, sometimes Anomi gets cut off mid sentence, and Anomi's notes to cut things out of the video arent removed. The beginning of the video is what really baffles me though. It's the first draft of a video about the flashnuke. At the end of that segment, he lingers on the umbrella man graffiti in ravenholme. The entire first half of the video is Anomi reluctantly moving on from the interloper investigation after portal rtx broke last time.

Except. The dates are really weird. The successful fall test was on July 2nd, and the probe launch on the 10th. The flashnuke first draft was recorded on July 9th. Why would Anomi start a new project and look at the umbrella man graffiti so wistfully the day before the probe launch?

Hi hello so welcome to the post Part C part of this essay. My updated theory about Part 5 and the flashnuke was that the weird editing and tone was all intentional. Anomi did that on purpose, made it seem like he gave up, to make the probe launch even more dramatic. It was weird seeing the Xbox port and the flashnuke actually become relevant in Part C tho.

I feel vindicated that Eida made contact with Anomi, proving that they aren't the same person (probably. Hopefully.). Eida is very insistent Anomi watches his demo, but if Anomi has watched it all the way through, or has done cubemap extraction* on it or anything, he hasn't told us. Meanwhile Eida refuses to give any straight answers. Like what the fuck is a gris.mp4 dude. The two of them are immovable object vs immovable object.

*cubemap extraction is weird. I think part B established you could do cubemap extraction to *any* demo, but non interlope demos have random stuff generated by skyghost? Idk. The whole series follows a pattern of gaining access to one tool, losing access to it, but then finding another angle, another tool. The console commands, the portal rtx void, the probes, the VRAD entity photos, project skybox and the Tuesday manifest, skyghost, then cubemap extraction. Of all of them, cubemap extraction just feels out of place to me. At the very least they proved skyghost was still somehow connected to the fsky servers. Maybe they'll turn out to be like mission critical in the future, idk. But with Part C, Anomi finally entered and explored the source engine void, and project skybox crashed, maybe taking skyghost with it. It feels like we're nearing the end.

Let's talk about the elephant in the room. Spisefourx6. In Part B, random characters in Anomi's explanations are highlighted red, and put together they spell that out. At first I thought it was somehow skyghosts doing, but apparently, other messages starting with "spise" are hidden in parts 9 and A.

I have no idea what to do with those, or how to end this post.

[legitidvleaks]

Alva Lorenz [Hermit] 2nd Year Character Day

A Page of Notes

Before I was to fully immerse myself in the sacred duty of examining the ritual, Lord Alva, in his great wisdom, gathered me and a select few followers for a final briefing. It was a session that revealed the ineffable beauty of the divine gifts and refinements bestowed upon my soul. The enlightenment of the Eye of Darkness manifests itself to each individual in different and mysterious ways. It often shapes the very essence of one's being with a precision and thoroughness that transcends mortal comprehension, answering the deepest, most fervent yearnings of every soul burned by its inner fire. The eyes—those clear, feline orbs—removed from me the tangled web of emotions that had once obstructed my path. In their stead, I was granted clarity, a singular focus, that allowed me to serve the greater, transcendent work with unwavering devotion. The affections, the pains, the turmoil that had once bent my will, all were stripped from me. In their absence, a serenity unlike any I had ever known overtook me. As for Lord Alva, his consciousness had long since become a serene and perfect void, in which the wheels of order and the delicate threads of causality moved in quiet rhythm. His transformation seemed far more absolute and deep than my own, and I could not help but perceive in him an aura of something holy. Perhaps this is the very thing the venerable one had longed for, but had never fully attained? …… The tasks I have undertaken in these past days are but a small part of the larger preparations for the ritual to come. While I lack the standing to truly partake in its heart, I nonetheless find myself honored by my involvement. According to Lord Alva's design, all actions that can ensure the ritual's success, no matter how seemingly small, are essential. One reason is Lord Alva's distrust of the ritual's sponsor. The invitation promised all necessary "materials" and assurances for the ceremony, but this also suggested that the sponsor may have known far more than we anticipated—perhaps even the recent operations I had conducted in the Netherlands. Thus, I was ordered to journey there, to retrace the steps of the jailbreak and scrutinize the lingering traces and details of the event. I place my full trust in Lord Alva's judgment: even if the invitation is generous, the sponsor's underlying intentions are undoubtedly at odds with ours. The vague assurances of "beneficial outcomes" may well conceal ulterior motives—hidden conditions that demand a cautious eye. And I know that Lord Alva, ever vigilant, will never go unprepared. Upon my arrival in the Netherlands, I conducted a thorough investigation of the area surrounding Het Arresthuis. Here, in this very place, the great divine presence had imparted its revelation, and it was from this very jailbreak that the perfect candidate for the forthcoming ritual had been chosen. The traces of the escape plan, once carefully laid by several of our brethren, had been meticulously erased. From the scant testimonies I gathered, it seemed that other unknown parties had been involved, their fates now shrouded in mystery. Strangely, the nearby cemeteries, where our fallen comrades were said to rest, had been emptied. I relayed these findings to Lord Alva, and a swift reply came—indicating that I must soon set forth once more. However, there is one detail I withheld from my report: during my investigation, I happened upon a cemetery near a small village. There, I discovered a gravestone bearing the name of Lord Alva. It was an unadorned stone—bereft of epitaph, untouched by the rot of decaying leaves. Only a thin layer of ash lay upon its surface.

(The notes are accompanied by a brief reply, an order to proceed to England and await further instructions.)

[missingstarter]

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE ; almost everyone know about this

while his reputation back then wasn't the best, he quite famously beat all the Johto Gym Leaders with relative ease

he's in a quote public relationship with Gold // @allthingsglittergold and Lyra // @kotoyin

he's both super polite or terribly rude, with no in-betweens

SEMI-PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE ; selected groups of people know about this. Ask if it's okay for your muse to know just in case!

he has a sister, Strelizia // @darkestaken

he stole Feraligatr, back then a Totodile, from professor Elm's lab; he was also pardonned by the professor himself

he lived in the Dragon's Den for little more than a decade

he has a part-time at a Pokèmon Cafè in Goldenrod

even if he tries to step away from Rocket business, he still attacks on sight any grunt

he beat the Gym Leaders with ease -- except Whitney. He has a particularly big vendetta towards her

PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE ; very, very few people know about this. Unless your muse knows about this canonically or Silver told them during threads, please ask before assuming your muse knows about these

Giovanni is his father

his full name: Silver Zamia Sakaki-Nicolai. He's recognized as Silver Yamamoto-Nicolai right now.

he was kidnapped and tortured for a week, and has a R-shaped scar on his back after that, hidden behind a tattoo

he technically knows how to kill a man with his bare hands

he was an active partecipant to the Radio Tower attack; only Gold, Lyra, the Rocket Executives, Giovanni and Lance know about this

he was an active partecipant to a ( blog canon ) mission on the Bell Tower alongside Willow // @soardived

the burn scar on his right arm was caused by Ho-Oh during said mission

he keeps tabs on Rocket as much as he can, and even attacked some of their bases in the last few years

he suffers of severe panic attacks, selective mutism and depression, mostly caues by PTSD

he doesn't like having his hair touched, and cutting them might lead to severe panic attacks

he's currently in therapy

to this day, he still has very conflicting feelings regarding Rockets

anything that happened in Tohjo falls is between him and Giovanni. And a pair of time-travelling Champions he didn't see

even if he knows what he did was for the best, Silver still has a lot of mixed feelings towards Red for defeating Giovanni. He knows they're wrong. But he sure does.

same with Green still holding his father's Gym. It fucking sucks actually

while he will still act aggressive towards them, he's openly terrified of Giovanni, Archer and Proton especially, with Ariana and Petrel following right after.

PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE, ROCKET ONLY EDITION ; only people who were in Team Rocket or were told by their superiors know about this.

he used to be particularly attached to the Executives, first of all Archer // @reiketsui

he was taught to shoot when he was six. Killed a man when he was seven.

he witnessed some of the Mewtwo experiments and battles

he was forced to always cut his hair short during his time in Rocket, and that's why it's a trigger for him now

he was also forced to use honorifics and call his father with titles from a very young age. Generally, he was "trained" to be the perfect prince for the Rocket throne, or at the very least a very obedient one. he tries to bark back, but the lessons still linger.

[midnightcatharsis]

Liars- the worst kind of Astarion haters and fandom

I really didn't want to make my blog about Astarion haters and didn't want to make 3 long posts about them. Yet I've recently found such a contemptible individual I simply can't stay silent. I need to vent and paint a bigger picture. Especially since I can't properly do it in replies on yt as it's impossible to add images in yt replies and comments with links are usually either deleted or hidden. If you have read my 2 posts - yes this is the same person but I've obtained more pieces of information that create an alarming image of how this person thinks, operates and lies on purpose and blatant confirmation of my previous suspicions. I've also decided to share it because I believe we should be more aware of this new more malicious and vile type of haters. We all know how "normal" haters and stakebros continue to post hate, we mostly know their motivation. But I tell you this person is much more evil and sinister than them. I want to establish and confirm certain facts first because the singular comments of that person may seem innocent at first glance. It's only the bigger picture that shows how bad it is. If you prefer more chronological order that shows how they escalate: part 1 - Example of a lie. That individual claiming Astarion doesn't approve of saving the gnomes and me debunking it. part 2 - That individual admitting to liking torturing, murdering and using mods that make Astarion into a slave, yet claiming Astarion's fans are toxic ones

For those who haven't read it, I will try to make a brief summary in this paragraph (sorry, I've tried) : The story goes like that, for quite some time under various Astarion-related videos and threads I've been seeing one and the same username very often accompanied by the second one. Their modus operandi and comments were pretty similar - they've been saying things like "I'm not an Astarion hater but..." insert here a blatant lie made to paint Astarion as evil, that can be easily debunked by playing, looking at clips, videos or Wiki with Astarion approval... The fact that they were lying was confusing because... like Astarion's not an angel, you really don't have to lie about him... Besides why even lie about a fictional character? Why with such vitriol and obsession under so many videos about him 1 year after the release? Why target neutral fans (of course to make them hate this fictional character :( )? Why lie that "you're not an Astarion hater"? Not a hater wouldn't have reasons to lie... Under different videos, I've also seen the same user celebrating hurting Astarion... What was the most frustrating is that often normal people were being deceived only since they assumed that individual didn't have ill intentions and because they believed they weren't being lied to. After seeing one comment from that person under yet another Astarion video from several months back, about how Astarion deserved to be brutally abused and murdered because "he only ever approves of bad things" and also listed some things that weren't really even true (like the gnome at moonrise, or ascending), I finally decided to answer and correct them citing some of the good things he approves of (saving an abused hyena, saving the gnomes, saving Vanra etc. ) I also added that while sometimes Astarion talks shit he doesn't actually DO anything evil on his own free will until the ritual unlike some other companions that they consider "good" and that holding a belief that an escaped slave or basically a victim of human trafficking who doesn't remember any other life but constant torture deserves to be tortured and murdered only for talking and being angry is evil. And that is when the insanity started. They kept lying, saying that Astarion's canon approval is not real, that he doesn't approve of those things (gnomes, vanra etc) and made even more lies and taking things out of context. Maybe I shouldn't have engaged. I probably shouldn't have, but hey, I don't like the idea of them deceiving anyone... I tried to debunk their lies, but of course, they doubled down on it and made new ones, blatantly refusing to check the sources, saying that the abuse options are there because the devs too think Astarion should be abused, and even going as far as trying to vilify not only Astarion but also Neil. Of course, the same account that almost always keeps backing them up almost immediately after their post appeared again and started spewing similar bs with the same arguments. They even decided to harass me on my own channel for correcting them...

At least I managed to get indisputable proof that: 1. those two accounts belong to the same person. (Establishing this fact is important so I started with those screens) 2. they lie (it was obvious before (in part 2) but here's another proof, 3. They use those multiple accounts to create false narratives by talking to "each other" and trying to create an illusion that someone who disagrees with them is "outnumbered" and toxic.

Re: So I don't have any video or content on my channel on yt. Literally nothing. And somehow still got 2 subscribers, I made a post 2 weeks ago asking my subscribers why even subscribe? Not relevant? Yeah totally, but after I corrected some lies of that Astarion hater, they went on my channel for no reason to try to vilify Neil under that post... At that point, I was 100% sure those 2 were the same person so I called them out (btw I may seem a little harsh at first glance but this person: 1. keeps going under many Astarion videos-comment to shamelessly lie, 2. was insulting all astarion fans, 3. was bragging about playing slave-owner simulator by putting a collar on Astarion and murdering him which I find repulsive, 4. went under my post to harass me under an unrelated post, while despite everything I have NOT gone on their channel.) and they exposed how pathetic they are:

This paragraph is basically the same thing as what I wrote to them. *btw they assumed I was a he, but whatever, I don't really care that's not the most important thing for me I've only 2 subscribers and I had them before interacting with that individual which meant they were not one of them. They were using one account to harass me but when I said I knew they were the same person who was behind the first account then even though I had not tagged the second account and even misspelt the username of the second account, despite getting no notification, it replied to a small channel with 2 subscribers barely 1 hour later, under the same post? That is NOT a coincidence. That's clearly one hater. Though they claim.

Nice try, except that was my channel and the only comment under the post belonged to their second account so no notification for kiririkiri account. Besides as shown (part2) those "two" accounts keep commenting almost back-to-back, both are under the same comment/video that is ofter several months old and with barely 1 hour of break. They also share all opinions and have the same habit of sending the same message several times.

As you can see they also started talking with themselves to "outnumber me" again. They even left themselves a like because it definitely wasn't my subscriber. I have 2 and I bet they don't spend 24/7 waiting for me - somebody with no content to post or comment.

Since I think I have already established this is the same obsessed person. Let me go back a little and once again gives you some evidence and perspective why I called them evil twisted and pathetic.

2. Well for once as I stated before they frequently lie. Exhibit I And I have given some examples in part 2 (astarion is evil because he says he embraced the darkness in the epilogue when talking about missing the sun, canon in-game lines from the narrator that describe how companions are feeling in different situations are not canon because their hc should be believed instead, Astarion wants to kill not help Vanra despite giving approval for saving her and despite having a line " "be careful, if we kill the hag the girl might die", the nightmare doesn't happen and a vivid dreaming about being enslaved again by your abuser can't be a clear sign of ptsd, Astarion wants to murder PC even though in his origin canon lines say "you try to wrench your head but your jaw refuses to obey" and that the fact that he has to do checks for not killing the companion proves his story - that he just lost control and other lies). But for the purpose of this comment let me remind you of that specific one from part 1 the gnome one

I've already debunked it, but as that person refused to check it and acknowledge it, and since they decided to come to my account to harass me I decided to use this opportunity and I posted the same screens from my part 1 to make that person see it and comment so that I can get further screens of them lying and denying canon. They did. They still said that the screens from the game and wiki are not canon.

I got the screens :D. Also jokes on you hater, cause I already got more than 20 likes under the same post on tumblr (part1) Exhibit 2

They are doing the same things with ascension...

Meanwhile reality:

This guy is so confused and complicated he doesn't even know if he truly wants to ascend and his approval of you trying to persuade him depends on a roll. One thing is clear. He does NOT approve of ascending.

Toxicity.

This is also in a way not true. This comment itself is mild, next ones are worse still... before the crash, he was mind-controlled and even refers to it as being a puppet whose body is controlled by his master and after the nautiloid he immediately joins the players and follows his lead till the end of his quest. He doesn't actively DO anything of his own free will to "torment innocents" he just observes, talks and approves/disapproves. A belief that a victim of human trafficking or slavery who doesn't remember not being abused and who has been enslaved and tortured for decades (or centuries) deserves to be murdered, tortured and humiliated because they are not well-adjusted 1 day after being freed because they say things that you don't like, are angry at the world and disapproves of your actions is fundamentally evil. He has never even been given any chance to heal. But hey if you've read part 2 you know that this comment is very mild because they in fact love playing the slave-owner simulator, murdering Astarion and helping Cazador.

As can be seen on the screens from the very beginning when they came to harass me after I've corrected them but accidentally exposed themselves for having 2 accounts they also made a special point to tell me how they'll enjoy hurting him and will "do their worst" specially for me in multiple messages.... It made me think about the comments they made under a different video

Last time I cut only the part about the streamer, how they called Astarion fans toxic because some people disliked how he put him in a collar and made him crawl... I did this to show how implausible that is that it was done by accident and to show their hypocrisy because as you can see that person's 2 accounts were bragging about downloading the mod specifically for Astarion, knowing his history and were both proud of playing a slave-owner simulator. But it was point 1. However, there were also points 2 and 3:

Interestingly: when said more was compared to male Aylin or whitewashing Wyll mod. That person failed to address Aylin at all and despite admitting that Wyll's is racist also said it's ok to play with this mod... But for the purpose of the post I think it's more important how they stated that "they're not an astarion hater" and that they never killed him and yet previous screens clearly show that they are a hater and LOVE to murder and torture him. They also were crying that a mystery streamer was "bullied" without showing any proof other than "trust me bro" but when I corrected some of their lies and told them their behaviour and reasoning is evil they immediately started to harass a channel with 2 subscribes... with 2 of their accounts, because they're so insecure they thought one account will not be enough... Yes, playing slave owner is ok, but being corrected is not. Them responding to an Astarion fan calling all Astarion fans toxic is ok, but somebody else telling them that their mod and ideas of "you disapprove therefore you deserve to die" is evil is not ok. etc.

I don't usually think that age should be brought up but this person is not young at all.

One of their accounts is almost 19 years old. I created my yt account when I was a teen but that person has videos from 12+ years ago... All things considered. I think they're probably at least in their 30s. For such a person to behave like that is not normal. 30+ years person individual lying online about a fictional character, bragging about hurting them, thinking it's ok to murder for talking, and harassing people for correcting you is deeply concerning.

Also considering that several years ago that person was posting some videos with game fragments makes me think that the probability of them being a "mysterious streamer" who got backlash for doing exactly what they were bragging about doing is even higher.

I'm ending this post because it's already quite long and summarizes the most important points well.

P.S. It has been brought to my attention in a wise comment under part 2 that this individual seems to have some problems and that's not normal behaviour. Upon reflection, I still think that certain behaviours and opinions should be openly called out as twisted and evil regardless so they won't be normalized in society. That being said I agree from an objective point of view that I probably shouldn't have engaged in the conversation or insulted them by calling them "pathetic" or "a loser" to their faces despite them being that things (I still by an evil and twisted). Then again it's very frustrating seeing accounts of the same person under so many Astarion comments or videos celebrating hurting him, attacking the fans or trying to make people hate a fictional character by lying especially because their initial comments/replies under some threads sometimes seem innocent and because they state "they're not an Astarion hater" some people believe them (unless those are fake accounts too:/) It's even more frustrating that when corrected they double down, spam with more lies and go under your own channel to harass you. Despite that, I don't think they should be harassed themselves. I've decided to just erase all their comments on my page, ban them and stop engaging. But I'm not sure what should be done if I ever see them lying or trying to portray Astarion as toxic in public discourse under anything related to him :/ They spiral after being called out and things get nasty but the alternative is allowing them to deceive people... No matter what I still wanted to share this story as I think we should be aware there's a new kind of haters. If you ever see or encounter this person, their second account or somebody else who says "I'm not an Astarion hater" and then proceeds to say something insulting or suspicious be wary and check the sources instead of believing blindly because there are strong chances it's an obsessive hater. I'm going to reblog and add some new screens of their lies... Check the first reblog if you want to see them.