#but I couldn't find another workaround it

[sorrinslays]

Belobog Roleswap AU

So this is a small thingamaching I've been thinking about sometimes. Truthfully, I just saw some versions of the same concept and while they were certainly interesting, they weren't really my style. So, I decided to try and make my own version.

To start off, I wanna say that I gave myself a few 'rules' to keep it consistent and whatnot. Specifically, I want it to be a true roleswap, so that means no true personality changes, at least not when it's unnecessary. The roleswap should make sense, like it should be able to happen realistically. Nobody expect the people of Belobog are roleswaped.

So I'll start by who we meet first and work my way down until we get all the characters.

We meet Gepard first. He is a petty thief/vigilante that fights fragmentum in his free time, mostly because nobody is willing to offer him a job. At some point, his parents were arrested for really huge crimes (up to interpretation). Due both Gepard and Serval being over the age of eighteen, they are in legal care of Lynx.

They have trouble finding a job due to their reputation and moved to the Underworld because the rent is cheaper. Soon they are forced to steal to get by. When the Underworld was sealed off, Gepard was in the Overworld, pickpocketing, separating him from his sisters. So, for ten years, he was forced to do petty crime to survive, abandoning his "dream" of becoming a Silvermane Guard.

All that changes when the Astral Express comes to Jarillo VI. After the Supreme Guardian "becomes suspicious" of the trailblazers, Sampo comes to Gepard, offering to show him one of the secret pathways to the Underworld. In exchange Gepard has to be the guide for the Express. (Sampard/Gepo fans rejoice, a canon interaction!)

Of course Gepard accepts. So when Seele is chasing after the trailblazers, Sampo sends a few smoke bombs and, with Gepard's help, gets them to the Underworld, reuniting the Landau siblings.

Next, we see Sampo and Luka. Sampo is the Captain of the Silvermane Guards. He's still a Masked Fool but after coming to Jarilo VI and seeing that the role of the Captain is basically empty (the old one is on his last breath) he decides to take up the role.

The first impression we have of him is that he is one lazy Captain. Always slacking off and "going with the flow". He doesn't do his paperwork or listen to anyone all that much. He kinda does his own thing and bothers everyone.

He's still the only one who can travel between the Overworld and the Underworld freely, but he does so in secret, behind the Supreme Guardian's back. He is still helping the leader of Wildfire and he's still the one to plan everything behind the scenes.

We learn that he's the one who got us to the Underworld through Gepard when Seele almost kills him.

When we get back to the Overworld, he greets us and we have to hold Seele from trying to murder him. He doesn't outright reveal anything but he does tell us that more soldiers have been dying under Natasha's rule because of her orders and he's been trying everything to find a way to prevent more soldiers from losing their lives.

He helps us sneak past the Guards, lying smoothly when something happens. Soon, they reach Natasha for the Boss Fight.

Luka is the Intelligence Officer. He used to be in the frontlines but he lost his arm in a very big fight and was "demoted" to a desk job. He hates it and oftentimes does Sampo's neglected paperwork so that the Captain owes him and takes Luka to the frontlines with him as "payback", which is why we see him when we first arrive.

When the crew is back from their adventure in the Underworld and he sees Sampo helping them, he questions the Captain. Soon enough, he joins the crew in fighting the fragmentum.

Followed by those three, we meet Natasha. As an orphan, she was picked to be the Supreme Guardian instead of Cocolia, so she never got the chance to live the life she could've actually enjoyed. When we meet her, she has a faint smile on her face, her voice are gentle and her words kind. Yet, something is eerily off about her, it's just very hard to put a finger on it.

Unlike the lies the Stellaron fed Cocolia of the world dying and everyone getting to live somewhere else, in "the new world", they tell Natasha that by killing everyone, they are gonna resurrect everyone and change their biology to be able to withstand the Eternal Freeze. The cold never bothering them ever again. They say that the moment all of Belobog dies, the life of the fragmentum would be transferred to the people, so they will never again be in danger of either the monsters or the cold.

Her story ends just like Cocolia's in the original timeline, losing her life to the Stellaron and the Astral Express.

Next in line, we have Seele. We meet her during the same scene as Natasha. She doesn't really question Natasha, at least not as much as OG Bronya. Not because she's stupid, no, but because she trusts Natasha whole-heartly. She just follows orders. It doesn't help that Natasha is hiding all the orders that are made specifically to kill as many soldiers as possible.

So, later on, when she finds out that Sampo, a somewhat of a father figure to her, went against Natasha and even kidnapped Seele herself with some "criminals"? She almost mauls Gepard, the "messenger", on the spot.

Of course, she gets her reality check when she sees how bad the situation in the Underworld really is. She sees Gepard in tears after finally reuniting with his sisters after 10 years, she sees kids who never ever went to school, she sees the lack of medical supplies, she sees how dirty everything is and she sees how the fragmentum has been affecting them too.

Just like canon, her romance with Bronya still happens and soon they are back in the Overworld. After a brief conversation with Sampo, she heads off to confront Natasha, and the rest follows canon.

Following Seele, we meet Oleg. He works at the Neverwinter workshop, the adoptive father of Luka. He used to be a Captain but after openly questioning Natasha's rule, he loses his job, leaving him to tinker at the workshop.

He's somewhat aware of what Sampo is doing, which is why he humours him and follows his orders of assisting the Astral Express. He isn't present during the Boss Fight, keeping the fragmentum at bay with Luka's help, he's devastated to learn about Natasha's death though.

Up next, we have Cocolia. She's a very smiley and kind doctor that greets us when we wake up from Sampo's smoke bombs. She is, gasp, in a happy relationship with Serval.

Competent is her middle name, and she mostly follows canon. Instead of Natasha, that doctor couple adopted Cocolia, which is why she becomes the Underworld's main doctor.

Not much to say about her, so let's move on to Bronya. She stops a fight from escalating when Seele causes a scene. While she still is very kindhearted, the Underworld has roughened her edges a bit.

We get bonding scenes between her and Seele and everything pretty much follows canon expect dialogue changes. I don't have much to say about her to be honest.

Pela! She works in the fight club, not because she wants to, but because she fell into debt due to trying to get her hands on the Tales of the Winterlands. Not much about her, sadly, Hoyo wasn't too keen on given her and Luka much screen time, I fear.

She helps us deal with the mine situation that happened in canon.

Now, we get to see Serval. She has an emotional reunion with Gepard and we learn that she is a member of Wildfire. Unfortunately aside from that nothing changes canon (blame the lack of Oleg in the story not me).

Now, we meet Lynx, who has befriended Svarog, the robot acting as her father figure. While Serval isn't a fan of Svarog, she doesn't discourage her little sister from befriending him.

Since day one, she is trying to get Svarog to agree to let people pass through the Furnace Core, she yearns for the outside and tries to find and all possible ways to change Svarog's calculations.

Of course it doesn't work until we, the variable, come to the Underworld.

Lastly, we meet Hook and Clara. Both are orphans adopted by Fersman, whose a Lieutenant under Sampo's command, send by the Captain. "The Moles", we learn, is a specific group of kids that wish to join the Silvermane Guards and, Sampo, to not break their hearts, made them honorary members.

Basically, he tells them sometimes to look out for any suspicious people, maybe follow one (if the job is not at all threatening), or the super duper important mission of getting lunch for him and the other soldiers. In this instance, he used them to lead the gang to Oleg and then to Sampo himself.

And that's it! Let me know your thoughts! If you have any questions about the AU, want a more in-depth explanation or wish to see scenes written about some of the things that happened feel free to ask!

[lassieposting]

Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.

Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.

Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.

Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.

For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.

And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the

✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨

Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.

Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.

Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.

Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.

Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.

Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.

Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.

Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."

Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.

Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.

Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.

[gleamingtempest]

Who do you think is the culprit?

Ace or a third party.

Eden is completely clear IMO, not only because I don't believe there would be a fully illustrated sequence of CGs just for a scene where Teruko chooses to trust Eden only for it to end up not mattering, but also because she couldn't collect the fish & I do not believe anyone is Eden's accomplice.

In regards to a third party:

If the glove was used, there was a reason it wasn't put back. One of those reasons could be that the glove was destroyed beyond repair. Ace & Eden wear gloves. Why wouldn't they just use a spare pair of their own gloves?

That being said, the only people who could've collected the fish and committed the murder which aren't Ace, are Rose & Levi - who, IMO, both have obvious reasons it isn't or couldn't be them.

Levi could not wear that glove. A workaround for Levi could be that he modified the glove using the dress up room but I don't know the logistics of that. There is a sewing needle in the trash can so IDK - maybe?

Rose is less tangible; I just don't believe it's makes sense to give her that scene with Teruko only for her to be the killer.

The tape is also an issue, because how could anyone other than those two even access the tape? If Eden took it and isn't the murderer, she would tell. If Ace took it and isn't the murderer, he might keep silent to save his own ass but, he definitely didn't directly give it to anyone at least.

The closest party to the tape immediately after the gym scene would've been Levi, which is another coincidence lining up for him to be the killer. That being said, would Levi kill? That would be "bad" right? Unless he was just lying. Which, wouldn't be out of character either.

Another thought is Hu - since she could still be lying about her alibi. Nico would call her out though unless they had a reason not to. The only reason worth considering why they wouldn't IMO is that they hate Ace so much they're willing to die to kill him but I feel that's kind of extreme. It would be kind of funny though.

Occam's razor dictates Ace. Nothing solid clears him & the fish clear Eden. I also don't know how much longer this trial is going to be so, it's really dependent.

If we're almost done, it's Ace and we'll find out next episode. If we're not, it's a third party. Those are my thoughts.

I hope this was helpful, insightful or engaging. : ) Everyone is free to leave their own thoughts on this as well.

[ceritops]

I havent finished on all my nura bios but

I did start another project

I'm making concept designs for a minecraft texture pack, did you know you can change the minecolonies mod models with a optifine texture pack like vanilla minecraft models? I found it out after using the etf/emf mods and looking through the models in game

So i decided to make some creatures to switch out the models with :

I used swans, lizards, and pigeons as inspiration, ive also been experimenting with colouring

I plan on making different ethnicities and subspecies for the npcs from another mod (the roamers mod)

I'm using blockbench to make the models after i finish brainstorming the ideas for their culture, clothing, and the things i mentioned before

I hope I'll get somewhere with this soon 😅 I've tried to do this with mods before but quickly got distracted by other mods i deemed more suited to my tastes (and considering making my own mod with my own creatures)

Some of my past attempts :

This was for the otherworld mod by the same person who made the roamers mod

I might work on this more later but I got distracted by minecolonies

This was for minecraft comes alive: reborn after i found out i could turn off the custom models (unfortunately i couldn't assign textures to different sexes so i made a workaround by making a hermaphrodite species), I quickly gave up on this after finding the otherworld mod

And this is a model i made for a mod i made, it was on mcreator but i have a short attention span and got distracted, starting over again on just making texture packs

[snugglesquiggle]

I was thinking about CC again, and realized something very interesting - Uzi, at the start of MD, doesn't have solver powers. In terms of CC, it means she hasn't undergone combustion. But given the nature of her parent's work, she probably knows about how zombie drones work.

which leads to another interesting tech thing, if she tries to hunt zombies pre-combustion - she has to figure out how to detect them, which could come in a manner of ways, but would no doubt be something JCJ would want a look at.

one thing that didn't make it into the outlines yet but i've been tossing around, is that instead of opening immediately on "nori's average tuesday", the very beginning of the fic is highly edited and redacted version of the "dead drones explode" exposition

then it scene breaks to uzi & doll giving a group presentation to the class. "And what have our parents done for the past forever while the world's in a frickin zombie apocalypse? Hide our powers behind this lame as hell masquerade? Anyway, that's why my project is this totally game-changing error blaster!"

still workshopping the name, but the idea is it's a gun that harnesses corruption to allow ordinary drones to damage zombie processes.

(thinking when i flush out uzi & doll's first excursion, uzi might be still trying to find a source of corruption for the error blaster. doll ignites her core in the fight with the zombie, and that might be what lets her use the error blaster where uzi couldn't)

that said, right now the notes are written as though solvers with unignited cores can still perceive corruption. (an easy to miss detail, but when doll & adam encounter the zombie, doll reacts and adam can't perceive it).

(alice, though, does need a way to detect zombies. i was going to give her glasses, but a friend suggest perhaps this is what her antlers are for. like radio antennae)

anyway, i think it's more interesting if pre-ignition drones need a workaround to detect them, but it does present difficulties for the planned plot. because one of the major sources of tension is that even when the action is in full swing, no matter how many times uzi steps into the line of fire, she doesn't initialize a core driver.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: To Woo and to Wed by Martha Waters

3.5/5. Releases 2/6/2024.

Vibes: second chance, fake dating, gentle pain, and what ifs

Heat Index: 5/10

Years ago, West and Sophie were on the brink of an engagement. But a curricle accident killed West's friend and rendered him insensible with a fever--and when he came back to consciousness, Sophie was married to another man. Now, West has an ultimatum from his father hanging overhead, while a widowed Sophie's sister refuses to get engaged until Sophie has found happiness for herself. The solution? Fake a reunion. At least for now.

When I read Martha Waters's first Regency Vows book, To Have and to Hoax, it was very clear to me that the hero's older brother, West, was the real man of the hour. And I can't resist a second chance romance, especially when the heroine--gasp!--actually sees people between her dead husband and the hero. This was a softer kind of second chance, big on the character focus and less so on the plot. This results in a very talky, quiet book, though it comes with no small amount of humor and wit. I can't say I was bowled over by it, but I know it will more than satisfy Martha Waters's fans, and if you're looking for a gentle book to curl up with during Love Month, I think this will fit the bill.

Quick Takes:

--I have to note... In To Have and to Hoax, it's mentioned that West can't have children as a result of his accident. I was honestly really intrigued by this. What did it mean? Was it the fever, with the doctor telling him it had boiled his balls and rendered him incapable of producing sperm? Was it an injury in the accident? Did he... lose something?

I wasn't against any of these things. I feel like we don't have enough romance novels wherein one or both of the characters experiences real physical sexual dysfunction. And I get why. But, you know--people experience that, and people can still have enjoyable sex. There are workarounds, and I'd kinda like to... see more of that?

However, I wasn't disappointed with the followup, because like... This isn't a spoiler for this novel, as it's like, a known thing pretty much immediately. But West did in fact lie to his dad and tell him he couldn't have kids, simply so that his father would focus on West's younger brother producing an heir and allow West to live mope-ily ever after with no pressure to get married. (Part of the plot impetus here is that West's dad finds out he was full of shit, and is now HEAVILY pressuring West to marry and have kids. Chop chop, your dick works, GET A MOVE ON.)

This did not feel like a cop-out, because it's simply so outlandishly petty and dramatic that it made me like West... so much. He was so angry at life, so pissed at his dad, so heartbroken over Sophie, that he literally faked infertility (and maybe impotence?). What a champ. Truly a "if I can't have her, I don't want anyone" move, but in such a RIDICULOUS way that... Dude. I would. And it contrasts to the rest of his character, which is kind of smooth and gentlemanly and intellectual. Like, this makes him seem a bit WACKY. If anything, I think the book could've used a bit more wackiness.

--Similarly, Waters did some interesting stuff with Sophie. Like, she's introduced in the series having an affair with another (prominent!) guy. She isn't put behind glass because she's West's one true love. Honestly, you don't see enough of that in not only historical romance but romance in general. West and Sophie were on the outs! They had no obligation to each other.

This book also had a discussion about infertility and being childfree that is... not often seen in any romances, again, let alone historicals. That was super refreshing.

--Like I mentioned, this is a very talky book. And it's full of supporting character action from previous heroes and heroines. In some ways, this was cute and fun and I think hardcore fans of the series will love that. However, as someone who liked To Have and to Hoax and (uncharacteristically for me) skipped to this one... It was a little much.

I think there's a fine line between having previous couples as supporting characters--which is often natural and feels right--and feeling like they're propping up the new people, or taking attention away from them. They took up a lot of time that could have been spent on West and Sophie alone, and that felt odd, especially since this was clearly such an anticipated couple that Waters was building to even in the first book (and I love that build, even though I did just read the first book before this one).

--I also was a little dubious on West's father being, once again, such a big conflict-starter in this book when he was just that in the first book. Like, yeah, the heroes are brothers. It makes sense in real life that he would be consistently shitty. But this is a book. We needed more variety.

--West and Sophie do have a very emotional connection. They talk a lot, they get deep. It feels very much like a relationship between two people who know each other on a bone deep level, even if they aren't totally familiar with each other's lives these days.

But... it is very dialogue and conversation heavy. I felt we needed a little more than that. A bit more passion, a bit more--well! Bigness. (That's not shade towards West. He seemed plenty big in all the ways he needed to be.)

--As a heads up, West does use a cane as a result of his accident before and resulting chronic pain and mobility issues. It's not a big thing, but I did appreciate it.

The Sex:

Martha Waters writes a nice, romantic sex scene that is what I would call low-mid-heat. There are a few, and they aren't super explicit, but they're definitely sexy. I'm not mad at 'em, but I do think we could've used a bit more passion between West and Sophie.

While I wasn't quite as invigorated by this book as I think I could have been based on the premise, it was a well-written, romantic read. And like I said--if you're a big fan of Martha Waters, you'll be super into it.

Thanks to Netgalley and Atria for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[cathy-pso2]

Another batch of screenshots! I tried to cosplay Pneuma from Xenoblade Cronicles 2! The color synch feature allowed me to nail the colors better than expected! I also did some Pixelart of Luxray and Agumon back when Creative Spaces first came out!

Digimon is a big love of mine! I never had a gameboy and thus havent grown up with Pokemon but I did have a PlayStation and I loved Digimon World to bits! too bad I couldn't beat it as a kid because the German version had a nasty bug in it but I did eventually find a workaround!

[writeouswriter]

hiiii sorry if this is Super weird !!! but i know some people look at their past writing n cringe a little yet also still love it a little but (n this goes out to anyone tht wants 2 answer too!) have u ever cringed at like. recent writing? bc i cannot 4 the life of me look at smth i wrote even seven months ago bc im just so embarrased..... do u or anyone else have advice on how u could overcome smth like this? i know cringe is dead be free n live ur life !!! but sometimes i cannot. help but just. Explode

Not weird at all! Though I'm not great with the advice personally, (clear and concise answers? Idk her), maybe someone else can help a little more as I have lots of lovely brilliant people following me!

But I definitely have cringed at some of my recent writing. I'm always going to cringe at some of my writing and be like what was I thinking, I can't write, while other times I'll be like, wow I actually can write. It's forever in flux. Sometimes, that's just how it is because even in the smallest intervals of time, you're constantly growing as a writer, learning new things every minute, every second, and with every new thing taken in, every new experience or reading or etc. under your belt, you see further into how the gears of writing turn, and occasionally that means you start to perceive more flaws in your own writing, whether real or imagined, because you're looking for them now, you're looking at the embroidery from behind with all the loose strings and stitches, you're looking at the clocktower from between the gears on the inside, watching them shudder and jolt a little unnaturally when most other people just see the face.

For recent writing, it's an especially tough beast because unlike writing from the further past, you're not far enough removed yet, so you still can't really look at it objectively, you're still stuck inside the clocktower, unable to see the view as an outside observer. So, maybe everything is going to look a little wonky regardless of whether it really is or not, and there's not much to do but keep learning and improving from it in the meanwhile, step back for a second, give it time and space, and be kind and patient with yourself as you take a walk around back to the front of the tower and see whether you can still see the gears and everything from there.

My analogies tend to get out of hand and may not be the most solid or helpful, so I'll drop that... but you feel me? Maybe you will still be cringing at it later, but that means you've come further as a writer and can pinpoint how to fix it/improve it or use the experience and observations for your new work, honing in on what exactly about it is making you cringe, maybe it's something with an easy workaround, or maybe with fresh eyes, you'll see it's not as bad as you thought and there's some good in there after all, maybe a mix of both.

Usually, it really is a matter of time. When I posted my first ao3 fanfic last year, I couldn't bear to look at it again, the thought of it made me sick. I had reread it multiple times at various stages to the point where I was just like if it's bad, it's bad, it's out there and there's nothing I can do now, and the thought of it haunted me, like people are gonna think the style is weird, it's ooc, it's this, it's that, etc., aah, but I reread it finally again last week and... it was fine. It was totally... fine. Meanwhile, another story I had been working on, I came back to it after a while and realized the dialogue was stilted and the prose repetitive, so I had to rework it, but that's fine too, no shame in that. It takes a while to find what works.

Anyway, I'm starting to ramble and repeat myself, and my keyboard keys are all sticking because I spilt milk on it the other day, rip, so yeah! That's all I can tell you personally, but if anyone wants to jump on and add something else, feel free! And I wish you all the luck in your writing quest! Take care.

[risu5waffles]

i have no Ten jokes today, sorry

So many things to do, v. busy squirrel, me. i suppose these will fall on Fridays every now and then, but, really...

Bright and cheerfull, if maybe a bit on the kludgy side of things. i've always been a fan of chonky, sticker cut materials wiv a bit of wobble on them, which seems like a goofy, tiny thing to point out, but i feel like it really brings the vibe of LBP1. Like the level is actually put together from bits and bobs lying around. i almost prefer that that a more perfect "this is a place" environments.

This level is really pretty in places, but gosh is it just all over the map. You can tell that it was updated wiv each new game, and additions were made wivout much consideration to how they would fit into the feel and flow of the existing level. Still, when a scene works, it really does work well.

We talked about this one last week, and it is still so, so good. Right up there wiv Neon Dimension: Rush as one of my favourite racers.

i was listening to someone go through Saya No Uta's story while i was playing this, and wow, that game is sure a whole kind of mess. Also, that was an Urobuchi jam? i honestly had no idea. This level is... well, it's also a mess. Not in the same way Saya No Uta is; it's just early LBP1 kludgy. i do like it for that, but beyond that, there's not much to it. The multistage boss was a nice touch, tho'. i almost (almost) miss bosses in people's levels. When they were done right (which is not always the same as done well), they could have a lot of charm to them.

Ahhhhhhhhh! i fucked up the title card! And the overlay! It's Flourishing Islets, not Floating Islets. i am the worst archivist, and need to crawl into a very deep hole somewhere. Maybe if i could find a hole that had a whole hole inside of it, that would do. The level is actually pretty nice tho'. Good environment, decent gameplay. Level_Tester says it's unfinished, but honestly, it's a lot better done than any number of other levels i've played. It just needs a bit of falling action and a nice wrap-up.

i really couldn't bring myself to get into this one in the end. It's overlong and overstuffed, even if i did like the lumberjacks. i think a big part of it was the pseudo-Skulldozer bit at the end. Making the player re-do the entire sequence (wiv cutscene!) everytime they die is really asking a lot. Especially right at the end of such a chonky feeling level. i appreciate where the creator was going, but i feel no need to take the trip a second time.

This is another one that just feels like it goes on forever. Like, it's cute. Not, perhaps Miami, but very neon. It's definitely a level. But it feels more like a collection of poorly playtested bits?

i actually wound up mostly liking this one? The presentation is pretty pants, but it does a decent enough job getting the feel of the Canyons. The invisible walls in the Serpent Shrine sequence were pretty uncalled for, tho'. The cameras could have done wiv some tightening as well. It was really hard to tell where the hitboxes (hurboxes?) on the spikes were in relation to me, because of how the cameras were angled. It's why i ended up just stickering the walls in the end to mark out safe zones.

For all the goofiness here, this really is a nice level. i like how it builds itself out as you go along. That's always something i've liked seeing levels do, and is one of the things that really made me cotton to Chronos' levels before we really knew each other. Since this was done in LBP1, there're all kinds of wonky physics interactions, so the level can be broken pretty easily if you're not careful. It's funny, but the one i showed in that preview video the other week actually has a workaround, so it's pretty clear even the creator knew things could go sideways. i kinda love that?

Yooo... we just talked about this five minutes ago. Are you telling me you can't remember 5minutes ago? Are you me? Could you pay the rent this month?

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

Right. That's another ten down, and i super have to run. Later Slaters! Love ya! Stay safe!

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖

╰┈➤ ❝ kieran x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot), (but like. there’s a lot of smut), angst, yearning, friends with benefits, forbidden love, secret love, hints of betrayal, teasing, heavy petting, clit play, oral (f. rec), fingering, handjob, dirty talk, praise, closet sex, vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, multiple orgasms and slight overstimulation, mentions of masturbation (f), use of pet names “miss hunter” “pretty” “angel". lmk if i missed any tags! ((unedited!))

wc : 7.7k (. whoops)

an : "whoah roxie’s using 'angel' for someone other than xavier?!" LISTEN. IF IT FITS IT SITS!! also this one's kieran-centered because i found his character fun to pick apart for the concept, and if you want to get a stronger feel of that, i'd say read up the english lyrics to DLMLU <3

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valvinny @rafayelsheart @hunters-association (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 LINK 🔗

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. None of it was. But how far can the chains of loyalty and devotion really take someone… before they finally break?

This was not in the plan.

Your breath stuttered, hands gripping the silken sheets below you.

Sylus would be back soon.

Your body jolted at the touch of his fingers over the plush of your thigh—

The two of you were not supposed to be doing this.

Your heartbeat quickened at the thought, a whine falling from your lips, yet the head between your legs remained unhurried in his ministrations. His hands pressed down against your hips to keep you from moving, insistent on taking his time, allowing his mouth to place wet, open-mouthed kisses around the clothing still covering your clit. The contact was there, but it was barely enough.

You squirmed in his grasp.

"Kieran...!"

His only response was a low chuckle, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. You could really only let out another whimper; what else could you do? So easily would he have you at his mercy, his touch and his attention having become something that you craved.

"Kieran, please..." You tried, with no avail, to buck your hips up into him. His grip on you was stronger than you'd anticipated—unrelenting in the pressure, and enough for him to let out a scoff.

"Hey, easy, pretty," he mumbled. You could hear in his voice the mocking roll of his eyes. "As nice as it is hearing you beg... You really need to stay still."

Merciless, for certain.

You didn't know what else you should have expected from him.

Your fingers tightened their grip on the sheets as his tongue poked out against the crotch of your panties, leaving short, kitten licks that only made the damp spot on the fabric grow larger—

And you wished you could see him.

His mask, placed slanted over his head, covered enough to keep you in the dark. You could see tufts of his hair peeking out from behind it... but you couldn't see his eyes. He would never let you see them. Not like this. Not when it was never supposed to be like this.

The limit imposed was always a reminder of that.

"Kieran..." you reached over to lay a hand atop of his, the only workaround you could find. And you felt his movements pause at the contact. By now, your underwear was thoroughly soaked through, the fabric clinging to your folds enough to outline the shape of your cunt. "Kieran, why won't you just take it off...!"

You felt him smile.

He didn't answer; it wasn't as if you particularly expected him to. Instead, he settled for pressing his tongue flat against your entrance, slowly licking up a long stripe that lingered over your clit, parting your folds more obviously for him—and he did it again.

The thin fabric dipped slightly into your hole, only barely serving as any more of a barrier from the friction and heat of his tongue. Your hips struggled against his hold, thighs trembling over his shoulders—"W-wha—anh—! Kieran—!"

You felt his nails dig slightly into your skin almost as a warning, and the slight sting of pain had your moan clamping down into a sharp hiss.

"Why, huh?" he mumbled against you, and you could hear the laugh in his voice. He brought his teeth over to graze over your clit, the sensation making you shiver and gasp. "Mmm... 'Cause I like it this way."

He spoke as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. As if you'd been stupid for asking such a question, as if he were reiterating the power he had over your body in this moment... Because he did. You could only submit to his ministrations as he took your clit lightly between his lips, only to let it go and do it again.

And again.

And then the slow movements became quicker, gliding his tongue up and down the sticky mess seeping through your panties, lapping at your slit as if to coax out more.

You could barely take it.

Your head threw back as his name fell from your lips in a litany—a breathless chant of "Kieran, Kieran, Kieran!" that had him grinning against you. You could feel it, the sheer delight with which his tongue moved against you. And despite his own words, it didn't take long before he finally pushed your panties to the side, savoring the trail of slick that connected the fabric back to you, and reveling in the sight of your wetness.

You panted desperately at the exposure—waiting; anticipating. Though you couldn't see him, you were nearly certain of the way he would lick his lips in approval of you.

And then—

"Shi—shit!" You cried out when he finally, finally buried himself into you, the direct contact of his tongue against your walls making your head spin.

"Mmmm. S'good."

It was a muffled moan you could barely register, but the vibrations against you had your body jolting. And as if to grant you a moment of reprieve, his hands slid down from your hips to push your thighs further apart.

"Ki- Kier—iera—n—! Kieran—!" Broken moans of his name left your lips in desperate cries, finally able to arch your back into him, lifting your hips to grind against his mouth.

"Mhm? 'Most there, hm?"

Your eyes glazed over as your mouth fell open, feeling him knead at your thighs in encouragement. He didn't stop. His tongue kept working you, dipping into your hole to have lewd, sticky noises resound in the bedroom.

"Close... close, Kieran, m'gonna...!"

You could hear a proud grin from him, as he pulled away from you and whispered a low command:"Yeah, cum for me, angel."

It was enough.

Your head fell back, a wave of pleasure tearing through your body as your thighs tensed around him. His hand moved to rub gentle circles over your clit to ease you through your orgasm, whispering soothing phrases into the plush of your thigh.

Your chest heaved, eyes drawing up to the ceiling in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Holy shit," you breathed. And it was all the words you could really bring yourself to say.

Your vision felt too hazy to process. You didn't look as Kieran got up to adjust himself, leaving your side momentarily before running a damp cloth through your folds to clean you up. He was always nice enough, gentle enough, to be thorough with your aftercare. The faint sensation of your undergarments being changed didn't feel unfamiliar to you anymore. Not with him. It was enough for you to get your breathing evened out again, and only when you felt the mattress shift beside you did you turn—

A warm hand was placed over your eyes.

Soft, almost coaxing.

And you knew the voice that spoke.

"Don't look yet," he mumbled.

It was a softer tone than he had used with you earlier. It was a softer tone than what he would use with you, in general. A hint of desperation, a masked sort of regret laced into it...

But almost barely there.

In truth, you couldn't have known if you were deluding yourself into it or not. As much as you were inclined to believe that there was more behind the way he said those words, more behind the gentle kiss that was placed upon your lips—you knew that it was likely not the case.

It couldn't be the case.

In the same way all of this was never supposed to happen in the first place.

"Just let me stay here for a second..."

He sighed against you, trailing fluttering kisses over your jaw, placing another against your lips. There was a silence, only the rise and fall of your chests moving nearly in sync, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall a reminder of the time that ran forward. Because no matter how time seemed to slow down for you in his arms like this, you knew that reality would prove otherwise.

A fickle illusion, just as all of this had become.

He pulled back.

You knew, and he knew, more than anyone, that the leisure of time was not available to you. And once the hand uncovered your eyes and you adjusted to the light, his mask was back on, his fingers reaching to pull his hood back over his head.

He looked at you.

You could have been imagining things, but you could have sworn that he was smiling. You'd seen his face before. All things considered, you could picture the way he looked at you—no more than a figment of your imagination seeing how adamant he was never to show himself to you like this, but it was the only solace that you had.

"Boss's back," he tilted his head, "got a message from Luke, soooo... M'gonna go. He might want something."

You sat up quietly, drawing your knees up to your chest. You couldn't help but pout.

"Kieran..."

He shook his head.

It was enough for you to swallow your words.

The empty feeling in your chest continued to thrum—unspoken words solidified the limit he'd insistently put between you. It always ended this way. You'd be fool to think otherwise.

So instead of speaking, instead of saying unnecessary things that you didn't have to put out there, your eyes fell towards his hand as he reached over to give yours one last squeeze.

"Seeya later, Miss Hunter."

—❀

Kieran was cruel.

You were never sure what the nature of your relationship truly was, never sure of the feelings that swelled in your chest everytime he so much as looked your way. You couldn't even recall how things turned out like this at all, only that a single moment alone with him had thrown you into this spiral that you couldn't get out of.

... But he was so nice to you.

His presence had become a comfort—as much of it as you could find in this god-forsaken place they'd made a home of. The N109 zone wasn't your favorite place; it was far from that. And yet, everytime you found find yourself going back, you owed as much to the twins to have yourself stay.

You owed it to him.

And it hadn't always been that way.

You always thought that if there would be one of them you'd grow more attached to, it would be Luke—Luke was always much sweeter with his words. He was quick to notice any discomfort, quick to offer words of reassurance that—on the surface—could easily have been dismissed, but they meant something to you. It was easy to relax around him. You knew that regardless of the situation that you found yourself in now, Luke had already become a friend that you treasured.

But Kieran was different.

Kieran was more... quiet, more subtle.

Equally as infuriating at his brother when they'd put their heads together just to get on your nerves, but—calmer. More bearable, in a sense.

And even if his words tended to be harsher in comparison, he was gentler in the way that he treated you. Especially when Sylus was absent. Because he did tend to speak less than his brother, seemingly content to let him do most of the talking, but his actions spoke volumes. He would help you with things—offers he would follow through with. The whole debacle with the brooch was an entirely different matter considering their intentions, but it the first that you'd felt a little appreciated on his part nonetheless.

Now, you knew, that whether it was as silly as getting things off of the shelf for you, or as bold as helping you sneak into Sylus' bedroom to borrow Mephisto for the day, he could help you. Because he would do things—rather than say things. And silence from him became less daunting; more welcomed, when you realized that he acted outside of it.

He'd swing the windows open whenever possible—because he knew that you hated feeling trapped in their base, despite multiple words of reassurance from Luke that you weren't.

He'd throw an orange at your head so you didn't have to peel one yourself—he'd seen you struggle once, taunted you to take the matter to the chef, but never seemed to offer you an unpeeled one ever since.

And he was quick to draw the lines where they needed to be drawn. Keen to notice when his brother had crossed it, bold enough to chastise him for it and offer you a moment of solace.

Most of all... the calmer tone in his voice, harshness aside, made it easy to fall under his spell.

Because that was what you would call it.

A spell.

He could get you to fall into his arms with such ease, but you were never quite sure if he would be there to catch you. It was always just enough to keep you guessing, always just enough to hold you close... Yet he would simultaneously keep you at a distance that nearly had you questioning if any of his behavior ever meant anything.

As if he were toying with you.

Your mind flitted back to the first time you'd gotten intimate, and it was he who had breached that boundary first, yet also he who'd kept the offer just out of your reach.

It was torturous. He was cruel.

Yet you had scarcely the courage to ask him about it.

—❀

"Arguably, it's a lot quieter around here without Luke around."

It was a rare occasion to see the twins separated, but that night seemed to be as such. You recognized the figure in front of you with ease.

"Where's your brother?"

The first question you asked had him letting out a laugh, absentmindedly tossing a coin into the air and catching it back into his palm. He didn't get up from his seat on the couch, but he turned to you. The earring on his hood made a soft tinkling noise as he did so.

"Out on an errand. You know. Boss's orders..."

You noticed him regard you for a moment, a contemplative silence you'd become familiar with from him, before he stood up.

It had been your instinct to immediately take a step back.

But that didn't phase him.

It never truly did.

He was a little less difficult to shake up than his brother, especially when he was alone. Unfortunately for you, as you watched him close the distance between the two of you a little bit more— this was such a case.

"The boss told me to watch over you, you know. You're here to see him, right? So... I guess you could say I've been expecting you."

It was your turn to look him over, folding your arms over your chest, and whether because of their influence—just as much as Sylus'—or not, you were pushed, a little bit, to be bolder. So with a smile, you decided to play coy."Kieran, are you trying to intimidate me? Is that something Sylus would approve of?"

It gave you an inkling of satisfaction to have him pause in thought, because there was one thing you'd noticed about him—

He was obedient.

Careful.

Dare you say it; a lot more calculating than whatever impulsive decisions Luke was more prone to making.

"Hmm... No, maybe you're right."

He replied smoothly, but it seemed almost too easy. A pause ensued. Neither of you moved. It was a while before you realized that he wasn't quite... finished.

"Boss isn't here, though."

These were words you didn't think you'd ever hear from his own mouth.

"Huh? Yeah, but... You..."

You could have sworn he was grinning under that mask of his, and the sharp laugh that fell from his lips was as close to seeing it as you could get. You were almost certain you were in for something—until you weren't. He plopped back onto the couch with ease, and you let out a sigh of relief. You would gladly grab the slightest bit of mercy he would show you.

"Wasn't trying to intimidate you, Miss Hunter," he waved it away. "Anyway, like I said. The boss isn't back yet. So... Whatever business you have with him's gotta wait."

"...Yeah." Your shoulders relaxed. Kieran would rarely ever do anything against Sylus' orders. This wasn't one of those times. "Right. Of course. I'll just, uh... I wanted to look through the books..."

You cleared your throat, and your gaze moved from the figure in front of you to the shelves that lined one side of the room. You, yourself, let out a contemplating hum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kieran lift his head again.

It couldn't hurt to ask.

"Kieran, could you—"

"Nope."

His answer made you blink.

When you turned to him, he had stopped fussing with the coin.

"You ask me every other week or so. Come on. You can learn to do it yourself too, right?"

"...But you're right here."

"I'm sitting."

"You could—"

He shook his head, turning towards the shelves and away from you. It worked well to cut you off, and you had concluded to abandon your hope of convincing him—it was much more difficult with Kieran.

But he added,"Which one this time?"

Your eyes lit up, and you walked over to one of the shelves, pointedly raising a hand. "That one up there! Feel like I haven't seen that anywhere in Linkon. You guys sure have a lot of—"

Your eyes widened.

His hands slotted themselves easily on your waist, but you had barely a second to process the heat of his body so close to you before he hoisted you in the air.

Your breath hitched. This was a first. You didn't know Kieran to be the touchy one—that was Luke. Yet his grip on your waist was firm, nearly reminiscent of the way Sylus would hold you, and for a moment you couldn't quite do anything but look back and stare at him.

He let out a scoff.

"Why're you looking at me? I said I wouldn't get it for you, but I didn't say I wouldn't help."

It took a while before you could turn away from him and back to the shelf, and you cleared your throat. "Um... A little to the left, then. I can't reach it from here."

"...Seriously?"

He grumbled a complaint, yet did as you said, anyway. You reached a little further to grab the book, and—

Perhaps, seeing you struggle still made him shift to bring you closer to it, but the movement caught you off-guard enough to wobble slightly in his hold. His grip adjusted to keep you steady, the pads of his fingertips riding slightly up under your shirt, brushing against your skin. "Whoah, there," he clicked his tongue. "Easy, pretty. I'm sure you can handle heights just fine, so relax. It's just a bookshelf."

The contact, combined with his casual use of a nickname you had never heard from him before, had you reeling. And though the book was then grasped safely in your hands, you couldn't help but be hyperaware of the thrumming heartbeat in your chest as he slowly let you down.

"There we go. Not so hard, huh?"

You nearly jumped at the proximity of his voice. The coolness of his mask pressed against your cheek slightly; he could have well been whispering in your ear, his thumb having moved to rub gentle circles into your skin.

This was unnecessary.

You knew that it was.

And yet, something about it made you want to lean into it a little bit more.

His voice was so nice to listen to. His touches were so... gentle.

"Hm? What's wrong, Miss Hunter?"

You could have sworn his voice dipped an octave lower when he spoke next, and subconsciously, you allowed yourself to fall back into his arms.

The quiet chuckle in your ears made your knees weak.

"You're getting worked up over this? Huh? Funny... You never act like this when Luke touches you."

Your eyes closed.

He was mocking you.

"This... It's just—Luke has never—Not even Sylus has—" You stumbled over your words, feeling your face heat up as one hand snaked over to your front to rest just below your navel.

"So what are you saying, Miss Hunter? Do you still want something of me? You have the book. I can let you go."

A choice.

He was giving you a choice.

You could feel him loosen his hold on you at the mere mention of Sylus, and you knew that he was aware he was treading on thin ice. Now, in this moment, the most logical option was clear to you. It was probably just as clear to him, too.

Yet—

Your words fell silent. Logic, as you knew it, didn't seem to be at the forefront of your mind.

"Why so quiet?"

His voice became a whisper, and his hand dipped lower. With the other, he tilted your head back at him, and you could have sworn that he was smirking.

"Kieran..." you mumbled. "What are we... What are we doing?"

"What do you want to be doing?"

"...That's..."

"I know what you want. But I'll let you go if you don't say it. On the other hand, if you do..."

Throw away all morality and compassion, and this place will become a paradise.

His words from before rung clear in your ears, and it was almost ironic to recall them in this moment. Quiet, obedient, dutiful Kieran... You should have known to expect that there was still a reason he stayed loyally at Sylus' side.

You closed your eyes.

"Touch me, please?"

Another low chuckle fell from his lips, and then he was quick—you were pressed up against the wall, palms flat against the concrete, the book in your hands falling to the floor with a little thud. His hands dipped underneath the waistband of your clothing—

"Don't. Turn. Around."

His voice was more commanding than you've ever heard it, clearer-sounding than usual, and once his lips suckled on the exposed skin of your neck, you shivered with the realization that he'd taken off his mask.

"Kieran..."

His hand cupped your mound, a finger slowly sliding up your slit to gather your wetness.

"Mmm... So wet, angel."

Your eyes squeezed shut at the nickname, almost feeling as if none of this was even real.

Yet it was.

Kieran had you caged aginst the wall, his fingers rubbing slow, frustrating circles over your clit. He would slide his hand down to dip into your hole before moving back up, teasing, teasing, never quite giving you what he knew you craved. But he did it so... Well. He had the power to allow you to feel every second of pleasure he'd bestow upon you, that despite the teasing, despite the restrictions, despite the clothing he hadn't bother to remove from you... It felt better than if you were doing it yourself.

"Five minutes, Miss Hunter," he whispered. You could feel one of his fingers prodding your entrance, and you sucked in a breath to hold. "So I'll make this quick, and you have to cum. Got it?"

You barely nodded before his finger slid in, your face flushing at the wet sound of his intrusion. So warm, and long, and slender—you felt yourself clench around him, and he grinned, the laugh against the shell of your ear raising goosebumps all over your skin.

"K-Kiera—"

Your moan choked back when he curled his finger, and you knew that you were long gone. Faster. Quicker. He'd added a second finger to add to the sensations, pumping them in and out at a pace that had your legs trembling.

"Easy, easy."

He mumbled soft praises of encouragement into your ears, almost a stark contrast to the mockery and harshness you'd been exposed to just moments ago. It made your head spin—soft pads pressed up against that spongey spot in your walls with each thrust, and it truly didn't take long for you to come undone.

You could have slid down the wall if Kieran wasn't quick to hold you up, pulling his hands out of your panties to let you catch your breath.

His phone buzzed.

For a moment, a tense silence surrounded both of you.

"...Well, they're back."

And that was it.

He sighed, leaning over to give you a soft kiss on the cheek, and then he let you go. He took a step back, leaving you to scramble for support against the wall. When you turned around again, Kieran was holding out your book—his mask was one again, and he pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

He leaned in slightly, and you could see in your head, just as well, the wink that he was giving you.

"Our little secret. Not a word about it to the boss."

—❀

It never felt as good without him after that.

Perhaps, he knew it too; perhaps, he felt it, too.

But even recalling that moment—recalling all the moments that followed soon after—often ended with your fingers between your legs, desperately trying to mimic those sensations, only to fall short.

So it was you, who would go to him often. You who would initiate, you who would ask—it was never the other way around. Kieran was adamant in acting nonchalant about it. There wasn't a single moment that his mask would slip, in contrast to how you could barely keep up with how he carried carry himself. Because although his attitude towards you hadn't changed in the slightest, it was still the little things that had caused the room you had for him in your heart to only expand.

It was more than just pleasure for you. It quickly became your excuse to spend time with him.

Despite a majority of your encounters being quick, sporadic—the times where you both would take your time pleasuring each other were different. Softer. They felt more real. From the way he would ensure your comfort, to the way he would always make sure to clean you up properly—you didn't know what to think.

Because once the moment was done, you would go back to normal.

Friends.

Acquaintances.

It didn't help that Kieran had rules for your arrangement: One, that you were never allowed to see his face; two, that neither of you would ever speak of it to anyone else; three, that you would be quiet if anyone else was home; four, that the line was drawn, he wouldn't be inside you.

And, five, that you wouldn't dare to fall in love.

Rules.

Limits.

He made it clear to the both of you—it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"I'm not one to be playing with the boss's property like this." He admitted it to you one night, lying on your pillow. It was almost a silly thing to say; you wouldn't have considered yourself to belong to Sylus, not when your relationship had been anything but strictly business.

But to Kieran, it meant something else.

You knew enough about him to conclude as such.

Quiet, obedient, dutiful Kieran...

Between him and his brother, he was always the one you'd seen closer to Sylus. There was never a question about it; his work came first. His duty came first. Rare were the moments he would ever put his loyalty anywhere but first priority.

"...You know, Miss Hunter, boss is really fond of you."

It made sense to you, then.

He'd broken just as many rules to be doing this with you. And his own rules, the limits he'd set, the boundary he'd built for the both of you—they were for him, just as much as they were for you. The reason this had all become a game, the reason he would never approach you of his own will, the reason he would only wait for you to ask him another favor, the reason he would torture himself for it—

"Don't let me love you."

He's never said it out loud, but he might as well have.

For to the both of you, this was only an illusion.

Reality was cruel.

Just as he was.

Because in this picture, it didn't matter what you felt.

He would play with you to ruin you. And you would come back to him. He knew that.

He's never truly stopped you.

—❀

"Kie- Kiera—nnmmf—!"

One hand pressed against your mouth, the other busy between your legs. In the tight space surrounding you, though your own hand was wrapped loosely around his cock, you could barely bring yourself to move. Your head was thrown against the wall, eyes rolling back into your head with pleasure.

"Gotta— be— quiet—" He grunted as his hips thrust into your hand, voice low and raspy as he chased his own pleasure. His fingers were unrelenting, driving you closer and closer to the edge in the way he knew exactly how to, and the movements of his hips seemed to match that pace eagerly.

The confines of the closet did nothing to hinder the state you were in, long gone and putty under the control he had over you.

It was dangerous.

You could hear the faint voices of Luke and Sylus conversing on the other end of the room, and this was the riskiest that the two of you had ever done with this arrangement.

You'd expected Kieran to stop.

You'd expected him to usher you out of the room, or to keep his distance from you until it was safe, but he didn't.

Today seemed... different.

He rest his head on your shoulder, hot, panting breaths reverberating in his mask as he continued to rut into your hand.

His fingers curled, and the hand against your mouth tightened its hold—he knew the effect that he had on you. He always knew. Telltale signs of your knees giving out from beneath you, of your legs trembling... Your eyes prickes with tears as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, bringing you well past your high for the second time that day.

"Good. That's a good girl," he breathed. His fingers pulled out of you with a wet schlick, but the hand on your mouth didn't leave.

You shook your head, barely holding yourself upright—

"Move your hand, angel."

There was a certain desperation laced into his voice, hips stuttering against your hand. You barely had the energy to move, let alone the space. The closet was unforgiving.

And, yet...

"Please, Miss Hunter... Please..."

You had never heard him plead you like this before.

It was enough.

He struggled to keep his own grunts and moans in check as you gripped him tighter, pumping your hand up and down over his length. Now that you were focusing on it, you were able to feel every vein and ridge, the pad of your thumb gliding over his tip to spread down more of the precum that had been leaking. Hips undulating, the friction over his cock seemed to drive him insane—you felt his body weight fall against you, and the wall of the closet remained the only thing managing to hold both of you up.

There was something about this that gave you a rush of exhileration.

You heard footsteps, and the door, and silence, before—

A louder groan seemed to fall from his lips, and his hips stuttered, spilling over your hand. Thick, and warm, and sticky, your own breath fell out in pants as he pulled away from you and your eyes were drawn to the mess he'd just made.

"Kieran... We gotta—"

Your eyes widened.

He was quick to settle his clothing before promptly carrying you out, and you gasped.

"H-huh?! Hey, wait! Kie, we need to— the closet stil—mmf!"

"Later. Later. I'm not done with you. Just— shit. Just be quiet."

His hand was back on your mouth, barely minding the fact that your hand was gripping his clothing if only to steady yourself in his hold. You knew the steps he was taking, the carpet leading straight to your room. And suddenly, the plush of your bed felt welcome—

But this atmosphere was a lot thicker and heavier than you were used to.

You couldn't help but crawl backwards until your head had bumped against the headboard, watching as Kieran's figure loomed over you.

You could sense it.

He was fighting to keep himself under control.

He fisted your sheets,

"Shit. Fuck. It's so hot."

Annoyed. He was annoyed.

You could only stare like a deer caught up in headlights, unsure of this atmosphere, unsure of what move he would make next.

And you should have expected it.

Immediately his hand whent to your eyes as you felt him shift to throw his mask elsewhere in the room, and then his lips were on yours.

You had kissed, a few times, here and there—but never like this.

You would doubt it, sometimes. What else could have been there behind all his kisses, what else he could have meant when he took your lips into his so gently, so lovingly, so... unlike him, in a sense, that you wished he meant something more.

It was more obvious this time.

His lips crashed against yours with a need to, and he was anything but gentle. Anything but composed.

It almost didn't feel like him.

All tongue, and teeth, and desperate breaths of air—he would barely give you space to breathe before he was back on you, his other hand moving to hold your chin, deepening the kiss as much as he possibly could. He kissed you as if he couldn't get enough. He kissed you as if he'd been deprived of it, all his life, that this was the culmination of the past several months of this game that you would play with yourselves.

"Kier—"

You couldn't speak; he wouldn't let you.

Your chest tightened with the overwhelming outpour of his passion, your legs tangling together enough for you to feel him press against you.

You couldn't do this.

Not like this.

"Kieran!"

Every breath you'd take was only swallowed back into his lips, as if he wasn't really listening to you.

"Kiera— Kieran!"

You felt him shake his head, his hips beginning to grind against yours.

"Kieran... Kie—Take off— Get your han—"

He spoke, this time.

"Can't," he rasped. You could feel him panting against your lips, before he cupped your face and dived in once more. "Can't."

This was stupid.

You couldn't understand why he would put himself through so much, when he had obviously been keeping every little bit of his own feelings sealed behind whatever composure he carried himself.

"Don't let me love you."

You could hear it in the way he kissed you, the way he moved against you, the way je almost seemed to have lost any control he had in his body and his only thought was to consume you.

"Don't let me love you."

But it was too late.

You tugged at his hair, a feeble attempt at pushing him off of you—and when it didn't work, you bit on his lip.

He was off of you in an instant, sitting up in the sheer shock of it all, his hands leaving yours to rub on his lips.

A mistake, perhaps.

A rule broken, perhaps.

His eyes met yours, and immediately, you sucked in a breath.

For all the times that you had seen him and his brother without the mask, this was the first time you'd seen him like... This.

Flushed cheeks, lips swollen and parted, chest heaving for the air he'd so gladly relinquised earlier just to keep himself attached to you.

His eyes were wide.

Yet he couldn't seem to look away from you.

Slowly, you brought yourself back up on one of your elbows, your other hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"Kieran..." you whispered, softly.

You didn't say anything else as he gulped, didn't say anything else as tears began to roll silently down his cheeks.

"Can't..." he let out a slow, shaky breath. "I can't... I can't... Can't—"

Your thumb moved to caress his cheek, wiping away his tears. With a gentle tug, you pulled him back down to you, and he didn't resist.

His eyes never left yours.

"Touch me," you mumbled. The tips of your noses touched, and you gently nuzzeled against him, allowing yourself to lie back down on the bed.

"Take me."

You watched as he sucked in a breath.

And there was no going back. There never was any going back. It had been this way from the start; neither of you had cared enough to stop the dance that you'd began.

There was no going back.

Now that you've seen each other, now that you could take in the way his eyes could look so forlorn in love, for you; how his pretty features could transform into a need so blatantly displayed on his face like this...

There was no going back.

Not a word was shared between you any longer. And when he leaned forward, his lips melting back against yours was no longer overwhelming. Messy, lazy kisses were placed across your mouth, his hand moving back to rest upon your cheek as yours did his.

Soft. Careful. Gentle.

The kisses from him that you were used to, but now, able to look into his eyes like this, had your heart swelling with an emotion you simply couldn't pinpoint. Your fingers moved to tangle in his hair. It brought him to a pause, leaving your lips, resting his forehead on yours.

And he whispered your name.

No pet names, no nicknames—

Your name.

Your name sounded so sweet on his lips, his voice cracking slightly with the intensity of which he would speak it.

And you smiled.

"Kieran."

It was slow, the way he leaned in next, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling your skin, before he pulled back.

Clothes discarded.

You wouldn't have known where in the room he had tossed them to, when it only mattered that you could feel him. Warm, and soft... Heavy, and... Safe.

Skin to skin.

Finally.

You inhaled deeply as he dipped his head down to your neck, lips attaching to a particularly sensitive spot that he'd memorized, before he sucked. It drew a hiss from your lips, but that didn't stop him—a trail of marks worked their way down from your neck to your collarbone, before he looked up again.

And his hips pressed against yours.

Your breath stuttered.

You could feel him pressing against your lower stomach, hard and warm, still a little sticky, and very well leaking wetness onto your skin. Just a little, little shift of movement—

Your eyes squeezed shut at the sensation. His cock dipped between your folds, sliding against you with a tentative buck of his hips.

"Ah... Shit..."

The words fell not from your mouth, but his.

Hazy proved your vision as you opened your eyes once more to look at him.

His jaw was clenched. You could sense an inkling of self control sill dwindling in the back of his mind, a voice telling him not to.

You reached over to hold his hand.

"Kieran..." you pleaded, and the groan that left his lips as you moved against him sent shivers down your spine.

Inside. You wanted him inside you.

And so many rules were being broken, your arrangement having shattered into pieces the moment you laid your eyes on him—

But you couldn't care less anymore.

You needed him.

"Kieran, please."

It was a flicker of doubt that you saw pass in his eyes that made you grasp his hand tighter.

"...Angel, I can't—we can't—"

You whimpered as he let go of your hand, only to press your hips down against the bed. You couldn't fight against it; his grip was stronger than yours. Yet the feeling of his cock was heavy over your cunt. It was too close. It was almost there.

Your hips struggled against him, and he could only groan—it didn't take long before it was he who started sliding against you, the friction having a mewl escape from your lips. You did everything in your power to get more of it—more of it. Your hips rolled with near pathetic desperation, and you could slowly feel him give in to your display of desire. His hand shifted, wrapping around his length, allowing himself to guide it through your folds—

"Shit... Fuck..."

His groans were like music to your ears.

You watched, panting, as his gaze moved downward—seemingly entranced at the way you were spread out for him, at the way you would force yourself to milk the friction of his tip against your slit... You could feel it nudge against your hole occasionally, but he wouldn't let it slip inside you. Instead, he would deliberately guide it through, slipping back up to your clit, bringing it down—the process repeated.

As much as you wanted to fuck yourself onto him, he wouldn't let you.

And you could barely take it.

"Kieran!" you cried out, still trying to lift your hips, trying to get more. "Please... please... Please, I'm so empty, just— Just a little, Kieran...!"

He hissed as he nudged once more over your hole—

And this time, he didn't pull back.

You felt your pleas swallowed back, nearly choking you, as he pushed inside of you just a bit.

His eyes moved up to yours, teeth gritted.

"This? Like this, Miss Hunter?"

The nickname falling from his lips this time felt so undeniably wrong. Yet hearing it did nothing to quell your lust—if only to tighten it.

And he knew.

Of course he knew.

You saw the corner of his lips curl up into a slight smirk, as he pulled back ever so slightly before thrusting back in—drooling cockhead breaching your walls, giving you the slightest stimulation, stretching you the slightest bit.

"You like that, huh?" He leaned forward to croon into your ear, the deep rumble of his voice so close to you sending a jolt through your body. "Like how that feels, Miss Hunter? Taking the tip of my cock like that? S'that what you wanted?"

And he continued like that. Only fucking the fat tip of his cock into you again and again, just barely giving you what you wanted. All while he would watch you. Intently. His eyes would never leave yours, searching, taking in every ounce of your reavtions, knowing full well that you could finally do the same to him...

And then he pressed in deeper.

It was slow; you'd barely noticed it.

But having been so used to just the tip of him inside you, the feeling of being filled a little bit more had you gasping.

"...I'm sorry," he groaned.

And that was it.

It was then that his eyes shut, and he fell forward against you. Your cunt throbbed at the way he would retreat, followed by each and every thrust forward sinking him just a little deeper inside of you. He would pull out, and try again—deeper.

Deeper.

A little bit more.

Almost there.

And no amount of self control, no amount of self-restraint could have held him back any longer.

A mix between a cry and a moan left your lips as he pressed himself fully inside you, cock pulsing deep within your walls, hips pressed against yours as you took him wholly, fully, right down to the hilt.

Your eyes were wide.

Your chest heaved with the need to steady yourself, and you saw the flicker of conflict pass in his own gaze again once they landed back on you.

Shakily, you reached a hand back up to cup his cheek.

Quiet, obedient, dutiful Kieran.

Every move nearly always calculated, always weighing the pros and cons, always the more... responsible one.

But was different, today.

Today, he was yours. And you were his.

You nodded, caressing his cheek.

And it happened in an instant.

Lips crashed back into yours, mirroring that same hunger from earlier, cock driving in and out of you with a force that nearly had the bed rocking He was no longer careful. He had everything, he had all of you, and he made it clear with the way he fucked into you that he wasn't about to let you go.

Your moans and cries were swallowed once more into his lips, but you didn't dare push him away. You allowed his hands to roam over your body, allowed his hips to snap into you. You didn't protest when he folded your legs back, allowing him to shove deeper, deeper, deeper into you, the sheer intensity of it all bringing tears to your eyes.

And when the kiss broke, he would pant against you, haphazardly wiping away at your tears, the sound of skin slapping against skin an echo in the room that mixed with your cries of pleasure.

He said it, then.

"I love you."

A shaky whisper.

He wouldn't stop his thrusts, wouldn't look away from you.

"I love you. Shit—I love you."

There was nothing he could do to stop it, then. Tears streamed down your face at the confession you'd waited so, so long to hear from him, a twisting in your heart accompanied that told you this was real.

You broke out into a sob, even as he leaned down to kiss it away, cries choked back into your throat as your arms qrapped around him tightly.

"I love you," you whimpered.

You felt him still inside you, groaning into your ear as his warmth filled you up.

"Kieran... Kieran... I love you."

He fell against you, your legs wrapping around his waist as his weight pressed you into the mattress. Your eyes closed, and you placed light kisses into his hair.

"Don't hide from me," you murmured. "Not anymore."

And it wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't as easy as just being like this.

You knew it.

He knew it.

You had always wondered how far the chains of loyalty and devotion could really take someone...

But now, with him so close to you, you figured it couldn't matter so much anymore.

"Kieran?" you coaxed him up to look at you, reveling in the sight of his dazed eyes struggling to focus on yours.

You smiled, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Know that I choose you. And I always will."

⁺₊ / an: first of all this is funny to post bc ive had dms with @star-anons-blog over the fic she posted, and you won't believe that neither of us had any idea of what we were writing 😆 but we ABSOLUTELY synced bc by then i was halfway through this, and her fic is like, the luke pov of a similar situation/vibe so IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT YET, ABSOLUTELY PLEASE DO, IT'S LITERAL PERFECTION. <3

also let me ramble a bit cause. the basis for this fic? it’s so interesting to me that a lot of the side characters are so closely attached to the main leads in themes of loyalty. i.e. xavier-jeremiah as captain/vice captain; rafayel-thomas as artist/manager; zayne-greyson as mentor/apprentice; and now sylus and the twins as boss/right-hand men. and it’s like, different themes of loyalty, too, but you know that none of them are willing to go against the respective mains. it makes you wonder… how far can you push that? what if they fall in love with mc, too? to what bounds of loyalty will they restrain themselves? and it’s so damn fun to think about and dissect, and i feel kieran's character, as separate from his brother, made him the perfect guinea pig for this <3

(but! i promise luke (and, yk, both of them) will get his (their) turn eventually!!)

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[skipverse1-blog]

Challenges and Solutions

Throughout this module, I faced many challenges that I had to overcome. Some were due to how I've had to learn how to do certain things like animating on 2's, creating a 3D environment, creating walking and running cycles etc. But there were also a lot of technical issues I had that I had to either find a solution for or a workaround.

For the animations, it had been a long while since I done any kind of it. Only a few small things here and there, so going into creating a full character walk cycle, run cycle and two characters interacting was difficult. The walk and run cycle I was able to do thanks to using a lot of references and guides. The biggest help I found was Kevin Parry's reference he created for animators. However, the two characters interacting was the trickiest one has I couldn't find a reference for what I wanted to do. So I would often make the movement and motions with myself multiple times to get an idea for how I wanted it too look. The main thing I need to learn how after doing this is keyframe timing, as I feel like a lot of the movements are either too slow or fast as I currently find it hard to time it all correctly.

For technical difficulties, I had issues mostly with rendering. A lot of the time, I found that the lighting, shadows and other things in the scene wasn't rendering correctly. Some of it I figured out by looking up the issue and seeing if anyone had a solution, but sometimes I couldn't find anything. One of them were why shadows weren't rendering at all, after some time I figured out that the shader I had set up wasn't correct and needed adjusting.

When it comes to working on the full animation, I plan on going to other people with a variety of skills in 3D and animation for assistance and support. While I'm able to create the scene and animations myself, I know there's a lot of issues with them and having another train eye to point out the flaws would be a massive help in making sure the final film looks as best as it possibly can.

[amarantine-amirite]

Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

"Hi Rose," Allie said as she stuck her head in the door of the theater club classroom. "Aren't there girls going wild somewhere without you?"

Rose stood down from whatever she was about to do. Lilian spun around quickly. "You heard everything?"

"People on the space station heard everything," Allie chuckled.

Lilian exhaled, "you have no idea how glad I am you're here." she had yet another pointless argument with Rose. Lilian tried out for the role of Mrs. Potts in the school's production of Beauty and the Beast but got the role of Belle. Rose wanted the role of Belle badly and really couldn't cope with the fact that Lilian beat her to the punch.

Allie turned to Rose. Instead of removing Lilian from the shouting match, Allie stepped in and tried to calm Rose down. "So Rose," she began, "I understand you and Lilian don't get along, what's up?"

Rose sighed, "She always gets what she wants, the little bitch!" Lilian just rolled her eyes.

Allie tipped her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

Rose shouted, "She didn't even ask to be Belle, they just gave it to her!" feeling frustrated made it hard for her to keep her voice down. Lilian made the bla-bla-bla gesture with her hand.

Allie probed further. "Why do you want to be Belle?" She knew that Belle was nothing like Rose.

"Because it's a lead role," Rose said without missing a beat.

"And why is that so important to you?" Allie asked. Rose wasn't the type that needed to constantly be the center of attention, despite what Lilian planned to insist before Allie cut her off.

Rose finally got it out. "if I don't get a lead role, I get stuck with a headset that doesn't work!"

"Did you tell the teacher this?" Allie asked.

"I did, multiple times!" Rose protested, "And do you know what she called me? A brat. I just want a headset that works!"

"Did you ask her nicely?" Allie followed up. Rose tended to be shouty when frustrated by things that made no sense.

"I did, and she said some bullshit about the school not having money to fix the headsets for the supporting cast," she huffed. She hated things that didn't make any sense. "If they have money to buy the entire 12th grade MacBooks, then they should have money to fix the headsets for the supporting cast of the drama club!"

Allie nodded. "Have you thought of a workaround?"

"Like what?" Rose said, hopeful that this conversation would have helped her solve the problem.

"Maybe you could find somebody whose microphone does work and they could go backstage and do your lines for you while you lip-synch, or use a handheld microphone," Allie suggested, "You could type your dialogue into your phone and use the text to speech app."

"OK Allie, I know your heart's in the right place, but we're going around in circles here." Lilian stepped in, "Why are you taking her side?"

"Look, you have no side," Rose said, shrugging, "I just don't understand why I have to jump through so many hoops to get shit that works!"

"Why does this bother you so much?" Allie asked.

It bothered Rose that people were listening to each other, but not at the same time. Their neurons misfired, and they did nothing to correct it. "This discussion felt closer to two neural nets interacting with each other than people trying to solve a problem. Is this real or am I dreaming?" Rose asked.

Lilian replied, "This is not a dream, it's a nightmare." She just wanted Rose to leave her alone.

Rose shook her head. "That's not what I mean," she said, "Like, did you say any of this or am I in a coma or something and this is a dream?"

"I don't know," Allie asked, "are you in a coma?"

Rose stood there with her jaw wide open. She blinked. "What?" she sputtered. The notion that she was actually in a coma was ridiculous. You can't be in a coma and not know it, can you?

It was worse than that. Rose was never in a coma. She was dead and had been so for close to a thousand years. Her physical body is long gone. The only thing of her that exists is her mind, courtesy of a brain scan so detailed that it could reproduce her consciousness.

Nothing you think of is safe, no matter how deeply buried. The scan can see into your every idea, every opinion. The scan reads them. it learns to be like you. The training data for the algorithm is your thoughts.

Mere seconds later, she woke up in a virtual hospital room, effectively back from the dead.

"What's going on?" she asked, "Why am I here?"

"We wanted to see if we could." The doctor on duty replied.

@sleepyprompts

[lumpofwhump]

The Scavenger and the Forgotten, Part 2: Something Like Safety

Previous

Summary: While taking shelter in an abandoned apartment on their way to escape a war-torn dome colony, an alien tries to be a good caretaker to a rescued lab subject. "Tries" being the operative term.

Content: Hurt-comfort; post-captivity recovery; nonhuman whumpee; conditioned whumpee; nonhuman caretaker; reluctant caretaker; hand whump; past mouth whump.

--

Clee returned to the now-formerly abandoned apartment with the promised food and clothing a couple hours later.

"Coming in, so you'd better have a towel on or something," she called out, rapping on the door before abruptly entering. The door made an alarming squeal that she didn't remember from the first time. At least, she thought it was the door. "So you're prolly gonna be swimming in these, but at least they're clean," she said, dumping a bag of clothing out onto the table. "Better big than small, ri -- uh. Radu?"

The former lab subject was curled up in a ball on the recliner, sopping wet but no cleaner for it, still dressed in the now equally-drenched uniform she'd found him wearing. One yellow eye peered out at her, wide with surprise and terror.

How does this guy not know how to take a shower?! was her first thought.

Then she saw the flecks of blood on his hand and sleeve.

"Alright, what happened?" she asked, pulling over a battered metal folding chair to sit a few feet away from Radu. Whether because of the noise or her approach, he shrunk back further into the chair and away from her, flinching like he was expecting her to hit him. "Hey. Hey, it's only me. You know, Clee? The person who you were asking not to leave like two hours ago?" she said, exasperated.

"I'm sorry!" Radu blurted out. "It was only… I only did it twice…!"

Clee blinked, her antennae quirking up in confusion. Apparently begging and making alarming out-of-context statements was just his way of saying hello. "You only did what twice?"

Radu looked away, reminding Clee of nothing so much as her brother's incontinent old fliluk every time the sorry creature had an accident on some handmade item or other. This guy did sort of bear a resemblance to it, now that she thought of it, just with less --

Clee reflexively grimaced, hissing sharply with an intake of breath, as Radu finally, reluctantly, extended his webbed and weathered hand toward her out from behind his knees. It was streaked with mostly-coagulated blood that had been flowing from clusters of uneven puncture wounds.

"I tried not to," he said in a quiet voice, turning his face toward her but looking at the floor. Blood dripped from his mouth onto the beige carpet. "But if you have to, to, to take another one -" Clee wouldn't thought his body could have become any more tense until it did just then, and his voice pitched higher as he continued - "will you at least give me something to eat first? It's been so long now…"

Clee was a hair's breadth away from putting something together that she very much didn't want to think about. "You can eat, but before anything else we're cleaning those out," she said, gesturing to the bite marks. Radu's shoulders sank in disappointment, but he nodded meekly.

"Good." Clee responded with her own nod and got to rushing around the apartment to dig up whatever would work for this. Of course the former occupants didn't leave any medical supplies, and of course she hadn't thought to get them on her shopping run. Finding workarounds and shortcuts was what she did, though. And it helped keep her mind off the kind of problems that she couldn't do anything about. Like Radu's entire life, from what she could tell.

The previous residents had thankfully left behind a few washcloths, some soap, a bowl, and a single bottle of alcohol so shitty that not even civil war or displacement had made it appealing. She filled the bowl with water and set out her equipment, such as it was, on a small tray table that she placed near the recliner.

"This is kinda gonna suck," Clee admitted. "If you'd rather do it yourself, that might make it easier." Too late, she remembered his failed attempt at a shower, and thought that this offer might not have been the best idea, however much she would've preferred it.

Radu seemed to agree. After a moment of staring at the items in front of him, he reached for them, only to pull his uninjured hand back and shake his head mutely.

"Okay, let's get the worst part out of the way first." Clee opened the bottle, frowning as Radu pinned his injured hand down to the table by the wrist with the uninjured one, shaking despite his attempts to remain utterly still. He was looking down at the injuries intently - unblinkingly, even - and repeating something she couldn't hear or recognize under his breath. "Ready?" she asked, causing him to startle and abruptly go quiet. "It's gonna sting in three. Two. One…"

She poured the alcohol over the first few bite marks and waited for the inevitable flinch, whimper, or yelp of pain. But there was none. Radu was completely silent and still, staring straight down at his hand, and looking like he was trying not to so much as breathe. When she soaked the second set of bites, a twinge of pain made it into his expression, but he stayed quiet. She'dve thought that his reaction would be a nice change from his panicking about literally everything, but it actually worried her more.

"Alright, take a breath, then I'll wipe these out with soap," Clee said, using her gentlest, or least impatient, voice. "You're doing really well here. Just a few more minutes, and then… our food should still be mostly warm."

Whether because of the praise or the promise of food, the old genmod stared at her with immense gratitude, eyes wide and a hesitant smile on his face.

Clee returned it uneasily. "Let's finish up, yeah?"

Delicate wipes, light, careful dabs. That was what she'd been going for. From Radu's reaction, though, it was clear she hadn't succeeded. If anything, cleaning out the bites seemed to bother him more than disinfecting them. He kept squirming, nearly jerking his hand away from her. At one point, she unthinkingly reacted to this by grabbing him tightly before he could pull away, her long, uneven nails digging in to his fleshy wrist just short of drawing more blood.

Radu froze immediately, and when Clee looked up, he had a look like she'd gone and kicked him in the face.

Well, fuck.

She loosened her grasp immediately, though she didn't quite let go. "Look, I didn't mean to do that," she told him, sounding sharper and more defensive than she'd intended. Unsurprisingly, Radu didn't relax even the slightest bit. She sighed in frustration with herself. "I just… I got impatient. And I shouldn'tve. I'm sorry, okay?"

She wasn't really expecting that to count for anything. But the look of terror on his face faded into something like confusion.

"Why?" Radu asked, finally.

Clee blinked. "Why what?"

"Apologize. To me," Radu clarified haltingly. "She never apologized when I made her mad, and. And she had to…" He swallowed.

It took Clee a moment to remember, or at least guess, who he was referring to. She shrugged. "Unlike some people, I don't pretend to be perfect. Or knock people's teeth out," she added with a grimace. She immediately wished she hadn't been right about that, let alone said it out loud, as Radu's shoulders went tense and he pressed himself back into the cushion of the armchair. "See? There I go, screwing up again."

Radu looked down. "She… perfect, I don't know. Maybe n -" He couldn't manage to say that last word out loud, and instead swallowed. "Miss didn't do anything I didn't deserve," he finished quietly.

"Okay, but you see how that's fucked up, right?" Clee asked, exasperated. "Not just doing… that, but then blaming you for it. And then making you call her 'Miss' on top of that? What was this lady's real name?"

She couldn't stop digging herself deeper here, it seemed like. Radu squirmed and made a whining sound, grabbing at strands of his dirty hair and pulling at it, his eyes looking back and forth as if trying to make a decision. Or come up with an answer at all.

She sighed. "Never mind, you don't have to answer that," she said, much to his obvious relief. "Either way. I'm not going to hurt you. Or try to, anyways."

Radu nodded, though Clee wasn't sure that he actually believed her on that.

"So. I got maybe three wipes left before I can bandage you up. You ready?"

He nodded again, and extended his injured hand while continuing to pull at his hair with the other one. He made no sound, though, and managed to stay all but completely still as she finished cleaning out the wounds.

Only then did Clee realize she hadn't found anything that could serve as bandaging. She made one last pass, hoping for some clothes or a bath towel or something that could work. What she did find… her own clothes had probably been cleaned more recently, and that was saying something.

So that left her own clothes.

As she took off her coat and roughly tore off the sleeve of her shirt, Clee consoled herself with the knowledge that she'd soon be able to replace them. She hadn't even had to sell off any of the Lycadone vials yet, after all. Just one of those could get her something nicer than she'd worn since she'd left home.

"You don't have to - !" Radu protested, realizing what she was doing.

"Too late for that," Clee answered, wrapping the strip of makeshift bandaging around his hand and wrist carefully. "Here, before I tie it off… too tight?"

Radu flexed his fingers a bit, but took his time to answer. Finally, he gave a slight, uncertain nod.

"Got it," she said, and loosened the bandaging until he could comfortably move them. It made for an awkward fit over the webbing between his fingers, but there was only so much she could do, and he wasn't complaining. He was, though, still visibly anxious, not having completely unfolded himself from his curled-up position or stopped tugging at his hair with his other hand. He was watching her closely, warily, even as she backed away a few steps.

"Still not gonna punish you or anything," she told him, doing her best not to let frustration creep into her voice. "But yeah, I brought back some Wonguun food. Those guys don't have any teeth, so it should be fine for you. Let's see, they have a microwave… I can heat it up for you if -- Iiii would not eat that fast if I were you," she cautioned, as Radu readily took the box from her hand and tore into the food inside.

He wasn't listening to her, though. Oh well. His funeral - hopefully not literally, but even so, she figured there were a lot worse ways he could've gone out. She shrugged and sat down at the table, gesturing toward another chair as she did so. Radu looked a bit startled, but quickly nodded and slid onto it. The thing still looked uncomfortably small for him even after what he'd been through, creaking under his weight, but he didn't seem to notice, focused as he was on the food.

Even at room temperature, the food burned. Shit. Most places laid off the spices when it came to their Girn customers, believing they couldn't handle it, but the diminutive food cart owner had not. Unfortunately for Clee, she fit this particular stereotype. She hissed in discomfort.

Radu, for once, didn't react to her displeasure, or even seem to notice. He was still shoveling the stuff into his face, and after a minute or so she had to assume that the spice wasn't even registering with him.

"So did you eat anything in the last, what, six months or so?" Clee asked after watching this for a couple minutes.

Radu paused and looked up at her, wiping his face self-consciously as he shook his head.

"They really do build you guys to survive anything, huh," she said.

The enthusiasm immediately drained from his face at the thought. "Not everything," he mumbled, shaking his head again. "And some of us…" He stared blankly at the chunk of sauce-coated food he'd picked up for a beat and then swallowed it, almost reluctantly. He closed the takeout box, and slid it back toward her.

No explanation, of course.

Then again, why was she even curious? She'd be dropping this guy off at the first genmod guerrilla outpost she came across. They'd have a better sense of what to do with him.

"Glad you got to enjoy some of it, at least," she finally said to break the awkward silence, ignoring the burning in her tongue and forcing herself to eat another bite of her own dinner. "And the rest'll be there for breakfast. Hells, you can even have the rest of mine if you end up wanting it."

"Thank you, Miss Clee," Radu said quietly, tremulously. "Really. Thank you."

"Eh, it's really no problem," Clee brushed him off with immense awkwardness. "And it's just Clee, got it?"

He nodded, looking down with a muttered apology.

She sighed. "It's not -- I'm not mad at you, okay? It's just…" she stopped herself before she could say weird or uncomfortable, knowing he'd respond in a way that made this more of both of those things. "No need to be all formal with me. It's just Clee, no 'Miss' anything."

"Clee," he repeated, then added, louder this time, "Sorry."

Nope, still weird and uncomfortable.

"Anyways. I'm off to sleep. And since you've claimed the recliner there -" she glanced over at the still-damp chair - "the bed's mine."

She felt a little bad. After all, when was the last time this guy got to sleep in a real bed? Had he ever? She didn't feel bad enough, though, to sleep in a chair that smelled like unwashed genmod.

"You can have the blanket," she conceded reluctantly, removing it from the bed and tossing it on the recliner. It wasn't all that comfortable anyway, she told herself.

This was more than enough to make Radu happy, though. He reached for it slowly, as if she might yank it away at the last minute, then took it in his hands, feeling over the texture as he stared at it with an expression that could only be described as reverent. After a moment went by and she did not in fact take it back, he wrapped himself in it tightly with a stream of "thank yous."

"It's not like I don't have sheets," Clee said, cutting him off as he made a bee line for the recliner, curling up in a ball again under the blanket and rocking slightly back and forth on it. "Hey, you know that you can make the chair fold out, right?"

There was a slight movement under the blankets that she assumed was a nod, accompanied by yet another, now muffled "thank you."

"Suit yourself," she said before slipping under the sheets and turning to face the wall next to the bed. "Also, before we leave tomorrow, you're taking a real shower."

Radu gave an indistinct response that sounded like agreement, then went quiet. The chair continued to rock behind her with a steady flow of two-toned creaks. She thought about telling him to cut it out already, but that wasn't really what was keeping her awake.

Where was she actually going? She'd been so excited about finding her ticket off this hellscape of a moon, and so caught up in taking care of today's other unexpected find, that she hadn't really thought about it much. And she felt… dammit, she felt scared.

What, was she supposed to go back to Girn now? When she'd first been dumped off here, that's all she'd wanted. But with her luck, she'd go home just to find her town wiped off the map, replaced by some stupid overpriced resort for their colonial overlords, and her family disappeared into one of the network of detention camps spread out through the occupied territories. Or she could head down to the southern capital like her cousin had, getting a job with some handsy minor lordling who made sure to lock away his valuables every time she showed up.

No thanks. It was better to stay a xeno in human space than to go back to being a kriv, and worse yet a halfbreed, on Girn. She wasn't inclined to believe the sunshine-and-rainbows version of life on Earth and Mars she'd heard over the years, but if even a quarter of it were true, it'd be better than this. And with her half-decent, if heavily-accented, Sol Standard and enough money to pay a bribe or five, she could make it work. Or survive, at least.

That was a tomorrow problem. The chair had gone still, replaced by soft snoring, and with at least some semblance of a plan, Clee felt herself drifting off too. Soon enough, she was dead to the world, undisturbed by the now-familiar sounds of gunshots, missile launchers, and crumbling concrete at dawn, let alone her new roommate's terrified whimpers and squeaks in response.

She was vaguely aware of the warmth, though, when a heavy blanket draped over her and soft, squishy, slightly shaking arms enfolded her tightly against the body they belonged to. At least in sleep, this felt like the part of home she still missed.

Next

—

World building by me and @soheavyaburden

[kdramaxoxo]

I’m so confused about these new Disney+ Kdramas. When I heard they were doing them I assumed they would be distributing them widely like Netflix, only to find out they’re not actually making them available in the US? I don’t understand this business model and now I’m grumpy because I thought I was going to be able to watch them easily lol.

I'm grumpy too anon!

Listen, we do not need another random channel distributing K-dramas. Like, how much money do they think we have??? And on top of that, it IS very annoying that Disney + airs these popular k-dramas exclusively in Asia first, forcing subscribers to do wild VPN workarounds.

Now, i know people were mad about Snowdrop existing so disclaimer: I'm using this drama as an example. It aired on Disney +, but only in Asia. Months later, it was made widely available on all of Disney + but unless you want to do crazy workarounds, you couldn't watch it legally while it airs.

I will say this issue seems to only be on Disney + as far as I know? They seem to want to keep them exclusive to them (which makes sense cause money) and only share them later (which honestly does not make sense) so I'm going to assume it has to do with contracts and streaming rights.

Tho I will add that I'm super annoyed that Pachinko is on Apple TV +. It's too pretty looking to watch on my go to streaming sites but that means i have to pay for watch it (when i already pay for viki, hulu and netflix).

Eat the rich. Kill Capitalism.

[stxrmapper]

ღ : What sorts of plots/characters/scenes do you have the most difficulty writing, and why? | ✘ : Any head canons you’d like to imply on you character but know they wouldn’t fit? | ✌ : Fondest role-play memory, between muses?

ღ : What sorts of plots/characters/scenes do you have the most difficulty writing, and why?

Introduction threads are the bane of my existence. I know that doesn't fit exactly into what the question asks, but still. Unless it's something interesting, I struggle a WHOLE lot when someone just throws a char at me and then expects me to roll with it when we've not established ANYTHING between my muse and theirs.

It's a lot easier when I know the mun tho, I think it's just bc I feel more comfortable taking threads in directions n stuff instead of just testing the waters and making sure the other person doesn't mind what I do.

As for characters? Mm, I used to struggle writing Scout ngl, but I think it's just bc I didn't write him the way he wanted to exist dfgds I used to write him as. a lot more blunt ig? Like he's still an asshole now sometimes but he used to be super straight forward and I just couldn't write it that well hah. Way easier now with the way he acts, I love him.

✘ : Any head canons you’d like to imply on you character but know they wouldn’t fit?

Mm nah I don't think so. Nothing comes to mind, usually whenever I have headcanons I find some way to slot them in, whether it's in an au that just goes untold or just a workaround way.

✌ : Fondest role-play memory, between muses?

Well shit. I really like a lot of moments recently but I won't mention them since. well. you guys were there for them LMAO (but just know I've really been enjoying recent threads a whole lot). There's a lot of them and I wish I could remember :grief: but I do remember when I rped rvb, my freelancer rp, there was this one guy who I loved to rp with n the fight scenes with him were particularly fun. I also loved the mission we wrote between Sika and his char, that ship was so cute I loved it, the other guy was Big Lorge Man he was cool. We also talked a LOT ooc about all different AUs and potential scenes or whatever and god I loved it. I loved his chars a whole lot, still do.

There was also this cool like. interdimensional rp I played in a while ago (although my writing was GARBAGE it was still real fun) and I loved the villain char he was wild. Reminds me if like, Ivy's excitability and enthusiasm and just Scout were combined, he loved to just be a dick for fun, I think he was the one to bring all of our chars from all their dif universes into the place as well it was cool.

I don't remember the muse's name but there was also another rp I loved, basically let Scout be himself with some poor guy who just wanted to work, almost reminds me of what Ace n Scout could be like lol

[lumpofwhump]

Trying Hard Enough

TW: Invalidation, gaslighting, emetophobia, disordered eating(?)

--

Whumpee sat on the couch, stock still, barely managing to breathe, as he watched Caretaker's favorite movie. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn't look away, Caretaker wouldn't make him watch this scene again.

Whumpee was too sensitive, Bad Caretaker Whumper had repeatedly told him. Instead of facing his fears like everyone else had to, he had expected her to tiptoe around them, making sure nothing could possibly hit one of his seemingly endless number of triggers.

Whumper had done her best to help Whumpee overcome his fears. He just hadn't tried hard enough to get over them. He'd do better this time.

He exhaled in relief as Caretaker paused the movie, but immediately wished he hadn't. Caretaker was staring at him, eyes wide.

"You okay, Whumpee?" Caretaker asked, alarmed.

Whumpee swallowed. He wasn't. Not even a little bit. But he couldn't say that. Caretaker was showing him one of their favorite things. He couldn't ruin it by making this all about himself.

"I-I'm fine," he said after a long pause. "I just need... can we pause it for a bathroom break?"

"...Sure," said Caretaker, giving him a look that made him tense up further. Then, after another beat, Caretaker asked, "Hey, actually, do you mind if I keep watching?"

Whumpee tried not to show how relieved he was, and nodded, before quickly turning to go to the bathroom.

"Hey, thanks!" Caretaker called after his retreating form.

Whumpee turned the overhead fan on, then the sink, and promptly threw up from the stress he'd been holding in for the last fifteen minutes, hoping Caretaker couldn't hear him. He could faintly hear the sound of the movie playing, its substance thankfully inaudible from this distance.

He didn't flush, not yet. Instead, he sat on the toilet, folded in on himself, shaking badly and rocking back and forth while trying to breathe himself back to composure. It was never that easy. It should be, but it wasn't.

Why am I like this?!

--

Caretaker was kicking themself. They should've warned Whumpee first, and asked if it was still something he was interested in. Not that Whumpee would have ever directly refused to watch it, but he didn't have to for Caretaker to know he wasn't up for something.

After all, they'd already gone through this with food.

When Whumpee had first moved in, he'd eaten whatever Caretaker had put in front of him and thanked them profusely for it. At least once a week, though, Whumpee would spend the night in and out of the bathroom. The more discomfort he'd been in, the more frequently and frantically he had assured Caretaker that he was fine, totally fine, Caretaker didn't need to worry about him.

So Caretaker had taken a less direct approach, taking note of the foods that tended to make Whumpee sick. Sadly - or so they thought at first - they seemed to be the foods that Whumpee ate with the most gusto, finishing every bite of. Sure enough, when Caretaker stopped making those foods, Whumpee stopped getting sick all the time.

And Whumpee seemed... happier? The overwhelming anxiety that practically radiated off of him around mealtime gradually subsided, resurfacing only when Caretaker decided to try something new. There were even foods that Whumpee had occasionally felt safe enough to request. The relief that Caretaker felt that Whumpee didn't seem to miss the foods that made him sick was replaced with horror at the realization of how hard Whumpee had been trying to convince Caretaker that he liked what had been making him sick, because it made him sick.

Food allergies. For fuck's sake. Whumper had made Whumpee feel ashamed for having food allergies.

It'd taken a lot of effort to get Whumpee to see a doctor about this, and for a while, food had become even more of a fraught issue for Whumpee than before. After a few months of Caretaker finding creative workarounds and using specialty ingredients, Whumpee finally seemed to believe that Caretaker wasn't expecting him to try to wean off of them, even if he still apologized for being a "picky eater" now and then. Every time, Caretaker reassured Whumpee that no, it wasn't unreasonable to expect them to follow his dietary restrictions, he wasn't making it up to be difficult, he couldn't just will his body into doing what was convenient for other people.

Caretaker liked to think that it was starting to sink in. Moments like this, though, showed how far they still had to go.

--

Whumpee tried not to think about how much time had passed when his trembling had finally subsided enough to walk back into the living room. The credits were rolling, thank god. But then… he'd definitely missed too much, and Caretaker would surely want to show him the rest of it. And how could he say no?

Instead, Caretaker stretched and got up, turning off the TV. "Hey," they said when Whumpee sat down, the same look of concern on their face as before. "If you're ever not into something, you can tell me, alright? I won't be offended by it."

No, no, no. That was the very worst thing Whumpee could do.

"I-I-I'm fine, really," Whumpee stammered out entirely unconvincingly, shaking his head. "I can handle anything."

Caretaker frowned, and Whumpee froze up, realizing too late that it had been a poor choice of words. "You shouldn't have to handle a movie, Whumpee. It's supposed to be fun."

"Sorry," Whumpee said quickly, automatically.

"No, that's not - what I'm trying to say is, if something's stressful to watch, you shouldn't have to suffer through it. People get to have different tastes."

"I want to watch things with you, though," Whumpee insisted desperately. "I know how important this is to you, so…! Maybe… maybe we could try watching the rest again tomorrow," he forced himself to finish glumly.

Caretaker smiled, but Whumpee could tell they were disappointed. Again. "Nah, tomorrow it's your turn to pick, remember?"

"Thanks," Whumpee mumbled. "Thanks. I'll… I'll think about it."

He heard Caretaker sigh, and he ducked his head in shame. Caretaker had told him, over and over, that it didn't mean they were disappointed in or angry at him, that if anything, they were mad at Whumper. They'd never met Whumper, though, never been around to see how hard she'd tried to help him, no matter how frustrated she'd gotten with him. If they had, they'dve... they wouldn't...

But like always in moments like this, Caretaker gently took Whumpee into their arms before he could apologize.

"It's really okay." Caretaker told him, even as his tears soaked through their shirt. Again, just as always. "I mean that. This stuff is hard. But we'll work through it together, okay? No matter how long it takes. And you're doing so, so well."

He tried to believe them. He would always try his hardest for Caretaker.