#i will be fighting both of you at my earliest convenience

[cybrsan]

Can I request a smut with dom Seonghwa with prompts 106 and 107. He’s a ceo and while at work his gf suddenly decides to visit him. She realizes he’s busy so in order to get his attention she makes him jealous by flirting with Hwa’s coworker and he gets angry and then they end up fucking 😋

Prompts: 106. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name." + 107. "Bend over the desk, love." Pairing: CEO!Seonghwa x F!Reader Genre: Smut Word Count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: Possessiveness, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, jealous sex, creampie, spanking, subtle sir kink

Rules for requesting can be found here and my masterlist can be found here.

“Mr. Park is busy at the moment. You can take a seat in the waiting room, and I’ll call for you when he’s ready.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, counting backward from 5. It is taking all of your willpower not to throw a tantrum like a spoiled child. It has already been a rough day, and all you want is to enjoy your lunch with your boyfriend. Yet, here you are, essentially being told to go to the back of the metaphorical line. It is for this reason that you’ve never liked Seunghee—she knows who you are, yet she still insists on giving you the runaround. 

“He and I have a lunch date scheduled. If you would just call up to him, I’m sure—” 

“I’m sorry, but he’s in a meeting. You can take a seat and wait for him, or I can have him call you at his earliest convenience.” 

“You know what? No. I’m heading up to his office, and if you have a problem with that, you can call security. But have fun explaining that to Mr. Park.”

She gapes at you as you walk away, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You find a sick kind of satisfaction in it and, to further rub salt in the wound, give her a dainty wave and smile as the elevator doors close. You head all the way up to the 19th floor and are fully prepared to wait in Seonghwa’s office until he’s free, expecting that he would be in one of the conference rooms. However, to your surprise, he’s already in his office—but not alone. 

One of the most beautiful women you have ever seen sits across from him, her image reflected in the abstract mirror hanging behind his desk. Her long, dark hair cascades in rivulets down her back, her lips both similar in shape and color to a peach. Her eyes are foxlike, sharp and alluring, intense even through the reflection. You bristle with envy, though you try not to make it a habit to compare yourself to others.

Then there’s Seonghwa. He looks as stunning as ever, every detail of his appearance meticulously perfected despite his long work day. His dark hair sweeps across his forehead, each strand seeming to fall effortlessly into place in a way that accentuates his beauty. The dark blue suit you helped him pick out hugs his torso nicely, just form-fitting enough to show off his best features. His slender hands are folded on the desk in front of him, mere centimeters away from her dainty, well-manicured ones. And, god, those big, brown doe eyes of his that you love so much are watching her so intently. 

You know that she is probably the representative of a company that wants to merge or some up-and-coming actress that is looking for representation. You know that Seonghwa is just doing his job and that he has a bad habit of looking at everyone with stars in his eyes. But, despite yourself, you can’t fight back the jealousy that you feel. So, indulging in one of your own bad habits, you sidestep his office and head into his CMO’s office instead. The two offices are connected only by a glass window and the blinds are currently open, so you know that he will be able to see you. 

Surely enough, he notices you not long after Minho does, and both of their eyes widen in surprise. Unlike Minho, however, he has a meeting to focus on and quickly returns his focus to the woman.

“Y/N!” Minho says, getting up to greet you. “What a pleasant surprise. Are you here to see Seonghwa?” 

He holds out his hand, but you move forward and hug him instead. There’s nothing about it he would find odd—it’s quick, friendly, not unusual for a greeting. Yet you know, and Seonghwa knows, there’s more to it than that. Speaking of your boyfriend, he must have noticed your movement out of the corner of his vision if his stiff posture is any indication. You watch with satisfaction as he tongues the inside of his cheek, knowing he tends to do that whenever he’s upset. 

“Hey, Minho. I was, but he seems busy at the moment. Have you eaten yet? I’m not in the mood to eat alone.” 

“I was just about to go on my lunch break, so your timing couldn’t have been any more perfect. Please, join me.” 

He pulls out a seat for you—what a gentleman—before quickly excusing himself to the kitchens so he can grab his own food. You make yourself comfortable, clearing some room on his desk, and are just about to start eating when you hear the door to his office open. 

“That was fast,” you say without looking up. “What do you have to eat?” 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” 

You jump in your seat, taken aback as you expected to hear Minho’s voice. Instead, you’re met with a frustrated Seonghwa, his tone laced with annoyance. He strides over to you and spins your chair around so that you’re forced to look up at him. 

Grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he continues, “Well? I thought you were here for me, but apparently, I was mistaken.” 

You shake yourself out of his grasp, standing up to fix the imbalance of power. “I was, but it looks like you were busy. Funny how you didn’t mention anything about a meeting this morning.” 

“You’re jealous? Is that it? So the first thing you do is turn to one of my coworkers, one of my friends, for attention.” His eyes darken and he moves forward, forcing you to back up until the back of your legs hit Minho’s desk. “What, exactly, were you hoping to get out of this?” 

Before you can answer, someone clears their throat. The two of you turn to face a confused Minho standing in the doorway, a fork in one hand and his food in the other. “Oh, Hwa, will you be joining us for lunch?” 

“Sorry, but I was promised a lunch date. Why don’t you go eat in the cafeteria with the others?” 

Minho narrows his eyes, obviously catching onto the fact that Seonghwa wants him to vacate his office. “Sure… Just eat in your own office, if you don’t mind.” The hint is almost as subtle as Seonghwa’s, but it’s there. 

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later.” 

With a nod, Minho walks away, leaving you and Seonghwa with total privacy. Without sparing you a glance, Seonghwa turns and heads into his own office.

“Bring the food,” he says. “Or don’t. I don’t think we’ll have time to eat anyway.” 

His words send a jolt straight to your core, the hidden promise of what’s to come enough to excite you. You grab the food only to haphazardly discard it on one of the chairs in Seonghwa’s room. You watch as he grabs the remote control for the blinds and closes them so that the two of you will be hidden from any prying eyes. Then, he sits at his desk, crossing one leg over the other as he looks at you expectantly. When you make no move to do anything, he sighs.

“Bend over the desk, love, before I lose my patience.” 

You immediately do as he asks, not minding the way the various stationary supplies littering his desk press into you uncomfortably. You know that if you make a mess of his desk, you’ll only receive more of a punishment. Your dress rides up your thighs, and Seonghwa stands, pushing it up further so that the whole of your ass is exposed to him. He rubs the skin gently, caressing it with his palms, before bringing one of his hands down with a resounding smack. Your body ricochets forward with the force, and you bite back a moan, watching as some of his papers flutter to the ground. 

“Is this what you wanted? To be punished like the little slut you are?” He smacks you again, and this time you can’t help the strangled noise that escapes your lips. “Flirting with another man right in front of me, just because I was meeting with a woman.” He tsks. “She’s the owner of a perfume company, by the way. She wants to make a signature scent for the movie we just released that has gained a bit of a cult following—she thinks it is a good mutual investment.” 

You look back at him, cheek pressed to the hardwood of his desk, your words a bit muffled due to the position. “I would barely call a hug flirting.” 

“I don’t care what you would call it—I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole’s name. And if you talk back to me one more time, you can expect a lot worse than a spanking.” 

His threat is enough to shut you up. “Okay, sir.” 

“Oh, now you’re obedient? All pliant and ready for me to use you?”

“Yessir.” 

He lovingly trails a hand down your spine, his light touch enough to make you squirm. “Good.” 

Next thing you know, he’s grabbing your hips with a bruising force, plowing into you from behind, panting into your ear about how you belong to him and only him. All you can do is whine and moan, barely able to grasp reality except to cry over how good he’s making you feel. He brings you to the edge again and again, not caring about how overstimulated you get as he chases his own pleasure. He comes inside you and doesn’t allow you to do anything about the mess; instead, he helps you slip back into your thong and orders you to keep it inside of you until you get home. 

The walk out of his building is awkward, to say the least.

[allthingsfangirl101]

*The Boss–Keys

Warnings: rough sex, sneaking around kink, language

Being vice president of a video game company is not as glorious as gamers think. It's even less so when the president is an absolute moron. I am basically running the entire company. Antwan shows up at 11 o'clock, orders food, walks around, randomly fires people, and then usually leaves between 2 and 3.

I usually have to get as much work done as I can in the morning because I spend the rest of the afternoon un-firing people. I have to reassure them that Antwan doesn't have any actual firing ability. He has to talk to me before he can fire someone.

"So. . . I'm not. . ."

"You're not fired, Dominique," I reassured her. "You are a great designer. Keep it up."

"Thanks, Y/N," she sighed.

I walked her out of my office, patting her on the shoulder as she left. I closed the door and leaned against it. I do this multiple times a week. Antwan hasn't even noticed yet. He usually forgets who he fired the next day.

With my back still against my office door, I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket. I dialed the number to his desk phone and closed my eyes as it rang.

"We need to have a meeting," I sighed as soon as it stopped ringing, not giving him a chance to answer. "Now."

"On my way."

I hung up and kicked off my door so I could start clearing off my desk. If I didn't do this, it would end up on the floor. There was a soft knock and the door creaked open. I didn't bother moving. I stayed, slightly leaning over my desk. I smirked when the door closed and the lock clicked.

I heard him slowly walk over to me. He gently placed his hands on my hips and stepped up behind me. He slid his hands around my body until his arms were wrapped around my stomach.

"Let me guess," Keys whispered in my ear. He kissed my jawline a couple of times before continuing, "Antwan was a dick and fired someone. You then had to un-fire them and clean up his mess."

The second he stopped talking, he returned to kissing my neck.

"I only want to think of one dick right now," I moaned.

I closed my eyes and focused on his lips on my body. He had a way of relaxing every part of me. Keys never struggled to help me forget about work.

He bit my ear, slightly sucking on it. He started nibbling down my neck, moving my shirt aside so he could kiss my collarbone. I bit back a moan as he slipped his hands under my skirt until he found my underwear. I leaned my body back against him as he slid them off.

"Get on the desk," he ordered.

I spent all day giving orders, correcting Antwan's. Keys was the only person who gave me orders. And it was incredibly sexy.

"Yes, sir," I whispered. I turned around and saw Keys reach up and tossed his jacket onto my couch.

Without breaking eye contact, I sat on my desk and opened my legs. He walked over and grabbed my thighs, spreading them apart even more. He stood between them as he played with my skirt. I gasped when he grabbed my thighs and roughly brought me to the edge, half of my ass hanging off.

Keys leaned down and pressed his lips roughly to mine. I let out the moan I'd been holding back since he walked into my office as our tongues instantly started fighting for dominance.

As we battled, I reached over and started unbuttoning his shirt from bottom to top. I tore it off of him, tossing it to the side. I started to unbutton my shirt but Keys grabbed my hands, stopping me. I put my hands on the desk, slightly behind me as Keys started unbuttoning my shirt. This was exactly why I always wore button-ups to work.

It's why we both wear them. Whenever I get tired or frustrated or irritated with work, I call Keys and ask for a meeting. He comes to my office at his earliest convenience. The second he walks in, we tear each other's clothes off and he orders me around.

It all started after a very drunk Christmas Party Keys's first year at Soonami. We started the night with flirting but soon added too many drinks. We ended up hooking up in the supply closet. The next Monday, I called him into my office to talk about the party. We didn't talk about it. Instead, we ended up having sex on my desk.

And so started our routine. We've been hooking up for about six months. A month after we started, we were at his apartment on his couch. We were about to move to his bedroom but I stopped it. I asked him if we could finally talk about it, about us. For the first time since we started, Keys and I had a real conversation. The conversation started off awkward but eventually, we confessed to caring about each other.

I was brought back to current events when Keys put his face between my breasts, slipping his tongue into my bra. As he explored my chest, I reached down and started undoing his pants. When they fell to the floor, Keys instantly pushed me back onto my desk and climbed over me.

He pressed his lips to mine as he reached into my desk drawer and found the hidden condoms. I grabbed it from him and tore it open. Keys bit my bottom lip as I slipped it onto him. The second it was on him, he pushed into me. I squeezed my eyes at the new pressure.

I broke the kiss and arched my back as Keys instantly started thrusting in and out of me. We moaned quietly as he took control. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Keys knew exactly what I liked. Still thrusting into me, Keys gently grabbed my chin.

"Look at me, baby girl," he whispered. I slowly opened my eyes, looking directly into his lust-filled eyes. Whenever we did this, Keys liked to keep eye contact.

"Oh Y/N," Keys grunted. "I want you to scream my name. So fucking badly."

"You know we can't," I gasped when he hit my G-spot.

Keys slightly repositioned himself before going back to thrusting into me. When he pushed in, he held it before pulling out.

"Shit," I moaned. "Keep going, baby."

"I thought I was supposed to be the one giving orders during our meetings," he groaned as I squeezed myself around him.

I grabbed his face, forcing his lips down onto mine to shut him up. I felt him smirk as he kissed me back. We broke apart when my office phone started ringing.

"Son of a. . ." I mumbled.

"Answer it," Keys said. I looked at him to see him smirking at me. We kept eye contact as I reached over and answered the phone.

"This is Y/N."

Keys let out a soft moan as he returned to thrusting into me. I bit my lip, not listening to a single thing that Antwan was yelling about as I focused on Keys ravishing me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood as Keys put his face between my breasts and quickened his movements.

"You got it," I mumbled before hanging up.

"What did Antwan want?" Keys asked as he decided which breasts to make out with.

"No idea."

Keys grabbed my thigh, wrapping my leg around his waist. He snaked his hand that wasn't holding him up under my back, pushing me closer to him. We rode out our highs a little longer, our grunts and moans slowly starting to get louder.

"Next time," Keys grunted as he started pushing me towards my breaking point, "I want you screaming my name. As loud as you can."

With one final thrust, I was sent into orgasm. I arched my back and gave in.

"Yes, sir," I gasped.

Keys pulled out of me and didn't give me a chance to relax. He grabbed my hand, roughly pulling me so I was sitting up. We were back to the position we had started in; me with my legs spread open and Keys standing between them.

"My place," he said, catching his breath. "Tonight. Bring wine, I'll handle the dinner. And then, for dessert. . ."

"You want me screaming your name as loud as I can?" I teased. Keys leaned in and smashed his lips to mine. I instantly ran my fingers through his hair as our lips moved messily in sync. He broke the kiss with a soft moan.

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

                                * * * * *

I fixed my shirt, making sure one of my shoulders was exposed. After our meeting, Keys and I sent saucy texts back and forth. We sent descriptive texts of what we wanted tonight, what we wanted the other to do, and sneak previews.

Keys and I didn't hook up every night. It was only on weekends. He'd come over Friday night, we'd spend all day in bed, go out Saturday night and he wouldn't leave until Sunday afternoon. Whenever we did go out, we went out of the city so we wouldn't risk running into anyone from our company.

Part of me wondered if anything would change at work. The other part of me wondered if Antwan would have one of his classic temper tantrums when he found out I was sleeping with an employee.

I smirked when the door was roughly swung open. Keys didn't wait for me to say anything. He grabbed my waist, pulled me close to him, and pressed his lips to mine. I moaned as I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him back.

Without breaking the kiss, Keys pulled me into his apartment and led me over to his couch. He picked me up, gently laying us both down. He rolled his body against mine as we relaxed into the cushions. Within minutes, we were in the middle of a full makeout session with nothing but our underwear on.

Keys finally broke the kiss and started kissing my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, slightly arching my back as he bit the skin peeking out behind my bra.

"Baby," I moaned, "don't you want to eat first?"

He pulled away and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to his room. I gasped when he dropped me onto his bed. He crawled on top of me with a smirk that gave me chills.

"Remember what you promised," he said through his teeth. I smirked as I snaked my hands up his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Loud and proud," I said softly. Keys let out a deep moan as he lowered himself and started grinding his body down on mine. As our bodies moved in sync, we finished undressing each other.

In just a few minutes, we were in his bed, under the covers, with our underwear randomly thrown around his room. I roughly switched our positions and sat on his hips. I kept eye contact as I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. I felt him harden under me as I took it off and tossed it aside.

I grabbed his hands, slid them up my thighs, and continued up my torso. He knew what I was doing and I could feel his anticipation building. When I finally got his hands to his favorite spot on my body, he squeezed them on his own.

I moved my hips so he would slide into me as he continued to massage my breasts. The movements in his hips soon fell in sync with his squeezes.

"Oh Y/N," he moaned. "Keep going."

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. He instantly started roughly moving his lips against mine. I broke the kiss, making him pout.

"Yes, sir," I whispered before pressing my lips back to his. I began running my fingers through his hair, pulling on the strands that I caught, something I knew he liked in bed.

We continued this for some time. The longer I was on top, the tighter I started to feel. I smirked when I got an idea. A dirty idea.

"Bring your knees up," I mumbled against his lips. Without breaking the kiss, he obeyed.

I bit his lip before I broke the kiss. I sat up and leaned against his knees, making sure he was still inside of me. I watched his face, wanting to see his reaction to me. With as much force as I could, I squeezed my folds around his member inside of me.

"Fuck," he gasped.

I giggled when Keys quickly sat up, so quickly I almost fell off of his lap. He grabbed my thighs and started moving my hips faster against his. He didn't kiss my lips. Instead, he wrapped his mouth around one of my breasts. I arched my back, enjoying the feeling of his tongue on my nipple.

"Holy shit, Keys," I moaned in sync with my movements. "You're so fucking big, baby."

"Can you do me a favor?" Keys grunted, pulling his attention away from my chest. The look on his face made me stop. I sat up a little so he would slip out of me.

"Anything, baby," I whispered as I delicately placed my hands on his shoulders and started massaging them as I rocked my hips against his.

"Don't call me Keys."

"What?" I asked, all sexiness and heat between us disappearing. I started to get off of him, completely embarrassed. "You don't like that nickname?"

"No no no no no," he repeated quickly as he grabbed my thighs, stopping me from getting off of him. "I didn't mean it like that, baby girl. I love my nickname. It's just. . . I meant. . . I want you to call me by my first name as we keep going."

"Oh," I said under my breath. "Any particular reason?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I mean, I know why. . ."

"It turns you on."

He smiled softly at me. "In a way," he whispered. "But even more so, you calling me by my name makes it more intimate. And that turns me on."

"You got it," I said softly, "Walter."

Keys moaned as he smashed his lips onto mine. I smiled as I started to kiss him back. As our lips moved hungrily in sync, Keys rolled us over so he was back on top. Once he was, he tore away from my lips and started sucking on my neck.

"Say it again," he asked through his teeth.

"Anything for you," I whispered, "Walter."

When I said his name, he growled. I gasped when he swiftly pushed into me. I arched my back, his name slipping out of my mouth in moans. I asked him to keep going. I asked him to go faster. I asked him to go deeper. Every time I asked him to do something, I called him by his name.

Our orgasms built faster than they ever have. Things felt more intense. When we reached our peaks, we both let out loud moans. He stayed where he was as we came down. I chewed on my bottom lip as I felt him soften inside me. I took a shaky breath when he finally pulled out of me.

"So much better when you moan my name," Keys chuckled as he rolled off of me.

"The louder the better," I agreed. I gasped in pain as I shifted. Keys looked over at me, a small amount of guilt in his eyes.

"You doing okay?" He asked. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

I leaned over and pressed my lips delicately to his. I pulled away but kept my face inches from his.

"I'm okay," I whispered. "It's the good kind of pain."

I kissed him again before rolling onto my back. When my head hit the pillow, I was also hit with an insane amount of guilt. I looked over at Keys, my heart sinking. I grabbed his hand, making him look at me.

"What's wrong?"

"I've been lying to you," I said under my breath. Keys' eyes narrowed as he rolled onto his side and studied me. I sat up, keeping the blanket close to my chest as I leaned against the headboard.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Life Itself."

Keys sat up, fully turning towards me. He waited for me to continue, so I did.

"I lied to you and Milly," I said, my voice breaking. "Antwan didn't shelve your game, Keys. He built Free City around it."

"Which means there's proof in Antwan's game," he said slowly as he caught on. I nodded, nervously biting my bottom lip.

"All you have to do is cross the barrier at Hitman's Beach," I explained. "Then the whole design will fall and the world will see your original design. Antwan won't be able to deny it any longer."

Keys thought about it for a second before his demeanor changed. "Why did you suddenly decide to tell me all of this?"

"You deserved to know the truth," I said under my breath.

Keys smiled softly as he scooted closer. "But why now? I've been working for you for over a year. What made you suddenly go behind Antwan's back, and I'm guessing against your NDA, all of a sudden?"

"Because. . ." I hesitated.

We were just hooking up. If I answered that question, it may ruin our usual routine. Adding feelings to a sneaking around relationship could end it.

Keys scooted even closer to me as he reached up and gently cupped my face in his hand. He pulled me in and pressed his lips delicately to mine. As our lips began to move in sync, Keys pushed me back onto his bed and instantly climbed over me.

"You're trying to protect me," he whispered, breaking the kiss. "How sweet."

"I don't want this to just be a hook-up," I confessed, breaking the kiss. "I like you, Keys. I mean, really like you. And if we did start a relationship, I didn't want to start anything with this big lie between us."

"Damn," Keys whispered.

"What?"

"I don't want this to be just a hook-up either," he continued. "I really like you, Y/N. And you're right. We shouldn't start our relationship with a big lie between us, so. . ."

"So?"

"So what are you going to do to help me get my game back?"

Keys gasped, covering it up with a deep chuckle as I rolled us over, switching our positions. I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. He let his hands roam up and down my bare back as our tongues danced. I broke the kiss with a soft wine.

"Anything, baby," I said breathlessly. "Anything you need me to do, I'll do it."

[onelastfic]

Hey Callyieverse Crew!

If you haven’t heard the horrible news about @thepaladincosplays account being terminated listen up! I believe there’s something we can all do to help Pal right now and that’s appeal on their behalf to Customer Service. You can do this by filling out a support request form on the Tumblr Help Center or by sending an email to support@tumblr.com. We all know Pal and know that this termination was unjust and unfair.

We can’t let her go into this fight alone so spread the word and support her. I have drafted a message to send that we can send to Customer Service to show our support!

Subject: Appeal for Unfair Termination of @Thepaladincosplays Account

Dear Tumblr Customer Support,

I hope this message finds you well. I am reaching out on behalf of my friend whose Tumblr account, @Thepaladincosplays, was recently terminated. We believe this termination was unfair and would like to appeal the decision.

@Thepaladincosplays has been an active and valued member of the Tumblr community for several years. Their account primarily focused on sharing creative writing content/fanfiction, sharing original characters, and contributing positively to various fandoms. There have been no violations of Tumblr's community guidelines or terms of service from their end.

Unfortunately, the termination of their account came as a shock to both them and their followers. We have reviewed Tumblr's guidelines thoroughly and cannot identify any actions or content on @Thepaladincosplays account that would warrant such drastic action.

We kindly request a review of the circumstances leading to the termination of @Thepaladincosplays account. If there has been a misunderstanding or mistake, we would greatly appreciate the reinstatement of their account at the earliest convenience.

@Thepaladincosplays is eager to continue contributing to the vibrant Tumblr community and is committed to upholding the platform's guidelines moving forward.

Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to your prompt response and resolution.

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Enough's Enough

Reader x Professor Weasley (platonic!)

Dear Y/N, I have something vitally important to discuss with you immediately. Please meet me in the Transfiguration courtyard at your earliest convenience. Professor Weasley

You gripped the letter in your hand, crumpling it slightly, as you deeply sighed. Thanking the owl who delivered it with a light stroke of their feathers, you felt the pit of butterflies in your stomach. You knew what this would be about. It had been a long time coming, and frankly you were surprised the professor hadn’t acted sooner.

Leaving your common room, you headed straight for the courtyard. It was better to get this over with as soon as you could. As you walked, you tried to figure out how much of the truth you could reveal. Professor Fig still wanted you to keep your ancient magic secret, but that was becoming increasingly difficult to do.

Pushing open the heavy doors, your eyes adjusted to the dimmer light outside. The sun was just beginning to set and it created a long, foreboding shadow by the deputy headmistress. Swallowing nervously, you took a deep breath in and out to steel your nerves as you walked up to her. “Good evening, Professor. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I -“ She paused, raising a disapproving eyebrow. “You’re not wearing your uniform.” You looked down at yourself, flushing as you realised you’d forgotten to change back from your adventuring gear. You’d found the Hogwarts uniform to get in the way too much when battling the ashwinders. “No… I’m not.” You breathily replied, not really knowing how to respond. The air felt electric between you, almost like the professor was looking for a fight. That couldn’t be right, could it?

“This is another example of precisely what I wanted to discuss with you. You’ve been deceptive with me from the very beginning, and I’ve turned a blind eye to it thus far.” She took a deep breath in and out, a false smile not quite reaching her eyes. “After all, this was all seemingly on Professor Fig’s behalf. But the rumours I’ve been hearing recently are taking this too far.” She stepped forward, looking you squarely in the eyes. “Enough’s enough. I want to know what’s going on.”

The look in her eyes made you cower slightly. There was no escape this time. This was a situation where no matter what you did… you wouldn’t win. Would you betray Professor Fig’s trust or risk Professor Weasley’s wrath and punishment? You stammered, the mental battle in your head raging as you tried to find a way to avoid both scenarios.

“Most of it is on his behalf, that still is true. I am helping him with his research.” You explained coolly, praying the blank expression on your face didn’t betray the fact your heart was beating what felt like a thousand times a minute. Matilda sighed, shaking her head slightly. “But what are you up to out there? I’m concerned about the amount of time you spend outside of the castle.”

You bristled this time, irritated by the interrogation. “I attend every class, I complete all my additional assignments - some of which also lead me outside the castle. I leave the castle in my free time, just as any student is free to do so.” There was a defiant edge to your voice as you stared the Professor down, hoping she’d back off.

“But you are not free to be breaking curfew, especially as often as you do so. I’ve seen you returning to the castle at all hours, often looking a little worse for wear.” Your expression faltered for a second, not realising how close of an eye she’d truly been keeping on you. Professor Weasley saw it and kept pressing, hoping that she’d finally get you to crack.

“I’ve heard you even go missing on the weekends, disappearing without telling anyone where you are going. Even Professor Fig.” At this, you looked up at her with wide eyes, tears threatening to flow. It was hard to defend yourself against what was all true.

Matilda waved her hand, bringing your field guide out of your bag and slowly travelling towards her outstretched hand. Absolutely not. You snatched it back and cradled it into your chest. She’d see all the quests, the errands everyone had asked you to do. She’d probably never let you leave the castle again.

“Y/N,” She scolded, her hand still outstretched. “Let me see the guide.” You shook your head, the tears finally overflowing as you took a shaky step back. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s too much. I can’t do everything everyone asks of me! The classes, assignments, Fig’s… research, and everyone asking me for help! But I can’t just leave them to suffer!” You hugged the guide against you, almost sobbing now. “I’m just… I’m just a kid.”

Professor Weasley’s stern expression slipped for a moment, her concern for you shining through. She’d wanted to break through your obstinate façade but… not like this. This was the final straw. Clearly, she’d have to have a serious conversation with Professor Fig. “Y/N, tell me everything that is going on and I can help you. I can’t help if you keep all this a secret.” Her voice was a little sharp, highlighting her frustration with your stubbornness.

That was it. You had to get out of here, away from her before you broke down and told her everything. Your eyes frantically flitted across your surroundings searching for an escape route. Seeing no other choice, you took a step back to open your napsack and summon your thestral, Sepulchria. You landed on her back flawlessly, her wings spreading wide. “Let’s go!” You desperately commanded, the gust of wind from the thestrals takeoff causing Matilda to take cover.

Urging Sepulchria up and forward, you soon left Hogwarts behind, heading for sanctuary in Feldcroft. Tears flew off your face as you heard Professor Weasley’s shouts. “Return this instant! Y/N! Get back here now!” You couldn’t return now… you just couldn’t.

The deputy headmistress ran her hands over her face as she deeply sighed, watching you become a mere speck in the sky. That did not go to plan at all. If you wouldn’t tell her all, then Eleazar would have to. This was all getting ridiculous. She rushed to the nearest floo network point, reappearing outside Professor Fig’s classsroom. Sweeping through the classroom, she knocked as she walked through the door of the office. Professor Fig looked up with surprise at his visitor.

“Eleazar, Y/N has just bolted on a thestral and refused to give me her field guide.” Professor Fig stood up from his desk, his eyebrows furrowed. Godrick’s heart, he hoped you were alright. “This has gone too far now. Tell me what you two have been up to, today.” Well, he thought, it was finally time to reveal all.

“Sit down, Matilda. This may take a while.”

[red-hemlock]

// this data leak is right up his alley, so 💬 and / or ❌ !

Data Leak Meme! @mute-call

💬 - A private correspondence

PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE (5)

1:10 [C]: We need to talk. Can't we do this some other less convoluted way?

1:10 [R]: I'd really prefer not, this channel's safer, and far more secure. It's just better for both of us.

1:11 [C]: I'm not one of your clients, Locke.

1:11 [R]: I know.

1:13 [C]: This is only about Dagny. I'd never entertain something like this ever, with someone like you.

1:13 [R]: I know.

1:20 [C]: Good. Then I want to have an extra week this month.

1:24 [R]: That's fine, she already told me about it and is really excited. I think it would be good for her, too.

1:24 [C]: Thank-you.

1:32 [C]: Then, same as always? But listen, we really do need to talk... I know I 'help' out a lot, but don't you think it would be more 'helpful' if she stayed longer with me sometimes? Maybe we should revisit the idea of her staying with me instead, and you visiting when you can...

1:32 [C]: You know it's what would be best for her.

1:45 [R]: No. Stop. I'm not just going to gve you my daughter look you deserve to know her bu

--REPLY ERASED--

1:50 [R]: I deserve it. I know I do. But when are you going to stop blaming me completely for --REPLY ERASED--

1:55 [R]: ...I know. --REPLY ERASED--

2:00 [R]: We'll meet you next week. Same place as always.

--CORRESPONDENCE END---

❌ - A piece of information that could be considered blackmail material

PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE (15)

Dear Ms. Miller, Gotham Public Schools is dedicated to ensuring that every child achieves academic excellence, beginning with creating safe environments in which every student can learn and perform to their best ability. I am, unfortunately, writing to inform you that Danielle is experiencing continual behavioral problems... Fighting is not conducive to the ideals and expectations that have been put forth by our school. I would greatly appreciate your assistance in working with me to rectify these issues. I would like to schedule a meeting with you as soon as possible, in order to discuss these arising issues and the ways in which we can help Danielle resolve them. Please utilize the scheduling function on our Blackboard at earliest convenience, in order to set-up a meeting that best fits within your calendar. I look forward to your correspondence. Sincerely, Mrs. Marcelyn Cybill Grade 2 Teacher, Gotham Public Schools

--EMAIL OPENED, RESPONSE NOT RECORDED.--

[blackjackkent]

LMAO. The group got absolutely toasted by some of the security systems at the front of the Selune outpost and I'm probably going to have to reload, but as soon as Gale expired, THIS happened.

"Well met! I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep, and if you see this manifestation, that means I have prematurely perished. However, for reasons that cannot be disclosed, it is of vital importance that my death be remedied at your earliest convenience. You may rest assured that I do not speak out of self preservation alone - many lives depend on my return to the living within the span of two days. I trust I have made myself clear?"

...Gale, you are so extra lmao.

Karlach had the lead in this conversation because I had clicked on her in a desperate attempt to get out of the environmental turn that was nuking everyone, and she looked utterly bemused by this whole conversation.

"How am I supposed to bring you back to life?"

"I have upon my deceased person a magical item that can accomplish my return, but such is the value and rarity that it is protected by a multi-level security protocol. I will now explain the protocol. Step one is to retrieve from my person a pouch I wear over my heart. Next you must unthread the purple seam that seals it in a counterclockwise fashion. Do not touch any other colored strand. Inside the pouch, you will find a folded letter and a tiny flute. Unfold the letter, and note the markings in the top and bottom corners. These are the notes you will need to play. Starting from the bottom right, play the notes in correct order - clockwise this time. Upon completion of the tune, a magma mephit will appear, which will pose the following question: I'ss k'cha t'chiss n'aga? This is Ignan for "What is my name?" The answer is "K'ha'ssji'trach'ash'. Pronounce the name correctly and the mephit will breathe on the letter. Stay clear, because the little scamp can melt metal. Words will now appear on the letter's surface, effectively turning the letter into a Scroll of True Resurrection. Use it to bring me back to life."

Oh my god.

"This is all ridiculously elaborate."

"I think ingenious is the word you're looking for. Now repeat my instructions back to me, please."

"I got it. Seams, notes, names - the lot."

"In that case, this will be an easy exercise. Step one?"

"Forget it. I'm going to resurrect you now if that's all right with you."

"Have it your way. I can only hope your memory stretches further than your patience. Best of luck with the protocol! May my cold dead hands soon be refilled with the warmth of life so they can shake yours in gratitude."

Incredible.

By the time I managed to get the game back into turn-based mode (it dropped out of it when Hector went down, I think, and then everyone just stood there getting repeatedly blasted by the Lasers of Selune), Hector and Gale were both dead, Karlach was downed, and Shadowheart was barely able to help her up and get them both back under cover. So the current state of play is Karlach (1 HP), Shadowheart (12 HP), two dead humans, a dead minotaur we were fighting when this all went down, and two really vigorous lasers.

I'd prefer not to have to reload especially after that whole spiel from Gale. XD so gonna quickly have K&S look around and see if they can find an off switch.

Gale and Hector just have their dead bodies smoking in the party inventory screen.

???????? That seems bad.

The lasers seem connected to a statue of Selune at the center of the area. I wasn't able to find an interaction point before but now that the stakes are higher maybe there's something to see.

The gem at the top is destructable which seems like a good place to start.

Shooting it from the top of the stairs seems to have turned off the lasers - and also gave Shadowheart inspiration for destroying a Selunite relic. XD

The next exciting challenge is dealing with the necrotic aura Gale is exuding, which makes it more than a little challenging to get at his security system in the first place. But we got there in the end (after a short rest so Karlach didn't keep passing out every time she got near him).

Here we go. Amusingly, we did indeed have to go through all those steps to get this whole business sorted. Luckily I already copied it all out as part of writing this post. XD The notes we had to play in the second step spell out D-E-A-D, because Gale is, as previously mentioned, incredibly extra. :P

Hector, despite currently being literally dead, got inspired by us correctly following all the instructions and getting the true resurrection scroll. Shadowheart was also inspired by us resurrecting someone. We were also able to use a Revivify scroll to get Hector up too!

Success! (I accidentally stole Gale's clothes when I took all his stuff whoops.)

OK definitely time for a long rest. XD

[set2zero]

Pray Return To The Waking Sands

Two wolves pricked their ears at the shrill yell from a short distance. Carefully padding over, they saw a young woman flinging rocks at beasts with one hand, the other pressed into her ear.

"You GOT to be kidding me! Now?!"

"Ellie, please." Minfilia pleaded, "I cannot speak further, there are too many ears about. Pray return at your earliest convenience."

The young mage's hand flopped to the side as the call ended. Two wolves froze at the corner of her eye. The ground rumbled under the beastkin's feet as she raised her staff.

At that moment Ellie was certain about two things:

1. Minfilia would never call her unless it was important. 2. She would drop everything for Minfilia if Minfilia said it was.

"Sorry, can't play with you lot. Someone more important's calling."

-

Ellie's shoulders drooped. Her eye twitched.

"-it rolled under the desk and I...panicked." Minfilia's voice trailed off, her foot tracing lines on the carpet. "Actually I'm sure there's a Scion around who can help me lift the desk, let me-"

"No," Ellie folded up her sleeves, "I'm not the strongest but it's only a desk, how bad can it be?" Not that she ever moved any desks in the Studium but Minfilia didn't need to know that. She squatted, hooked her fingers under the desk, and lifted.

It did not take Elilgeim Wiltarwyn long to learn not all desks were built equal: For whatever reason only the Twelve knew, the desk was solid, sturdy, and very, very, heavy. It lifted an ilm off the ground. Grunting made it rise two ilms. Her knees burned, a vein bulged. She was going for the third ilm when the desk became lighter. Practically weightless under her palms she looked down for evidence of sorcery and found Minfilia on all fours, one hand supporting the desk and holding it up as the other hand patted the carpet, snatching a glimmering bauble before immediately ducking out and standing up.

That's right, Ellie remembered, Minfilia was a miner. Muscles toned from moons- no, summers of breaking rocks with pickaxe and sledgehammer. Of course she can lift a desk, you fool, probably could lift you if she used both hands, Ellie's inner voice clucked.

As soon as she set the desk down she craned her neck to see what Minfilia was willing to go through so much trouble for. A thin metal fork glinted in the light, a flash of colour Ellie recognized.

"Is that a...hairpin?"

Minfilia gasped, whirling around to meet her. Pink flushed across her cheeks. "Yes, it's the one you gave me." Ellie refused to blink and miss the moment where a blushing Minfilia Warde tucked her hair behind her ear. "I was trying to put it on when I slipped, and..."

She never finished her sentence; Ellie gently plucked the pin from her. "Let me put it on. Can't have you lifting desks again, aye?" Fingers parted blonde locks, pressing on a section to slide the pin through. Ellie patted her hair for good measure, beaming from ear to ear from how close she was to kissing her on the cheek for good luck.

Minfillia looked up. "Thank you, Ellie."

"Ain't a big deal." She held her breath to try and stop her heart from leaping out of her ribcage. "I'd hold you together with more than pins if I could."

The other woman blinked. "What?"

And then it was Ellie's turn to blush.

---

Fic for @elliewiltarwyn for the FFXIV Swap, she requested a fluff romance fic. This idea sat in my head for a month and I finally FINALLY decided to fight my wonky keyboard and write it out. Did you know words are hard when you haven't written anything proper in over 5 years and wlw romance is uncharted territory? Now you do! :'D

Thank you for trusting Ellie to me, I (really) hope you enjoy it!

[offbeatcappuccino]

the art of contract relationships ~ an excessive rambling about romance and an alchemy of souls part 2 reflection

Being an Indian, I'm no stranger to arranged marriages with almost everyone in my family including my own parents being in one. Though as someone who aspires to be "unconventional" and likes to stir up shit to unsettle my familial homeostasis on a daily basis and therefore would never be in an arranged marriage, I find the idea of them quite fascinating because of not only how terribly convenient they are since you have to do very little to woo your significant other, but there's something quite fruitful when it comes to plotting the arc of an arranged/contract marriage. There's this wonderful cognitive dissonance that arises when two people, who are practically strangers and have no inkling of affection for each other , are in forced close proximity to each other and have to put on the performance of a lifetime to convince those around them that they're in love with each other until they truly end up liking each other. Watching these dramas is like watching a block of ice boil on a stove- It's a slow burn of microscopic collisions (both good and bad) between two individuals inside the confined pot of marriage that forces them to let go of the frigid impenetrable boundaries of insecurity that they've closed themselves in and instead they choose to find liberation and happiness from where they least expected it.

The "contract" relationship trope is truly the amalgamation of all romance tropes you can have a little bit of every other trope in a contract relationship plotline- enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, soulmates, opposites attract, innocent cohabitation, unrequited love, etc. Now, if you're Indian, you also probably know that there only 3 types of marriages possible in our society - arranged (parents chose), love come arranged (you chose but your parents are okay with it), and love (you chose and your parents absolutely hate you and now you're disowned). With the third, love marriages, if you're Indian, you would also know how big of a trope "elopement" is with in Indian films. There's this rush of excitement, anxiety, and pain that hits you simultaneously as you watch a young couple risk it all as they hitch-hike across the subcontinent, leaving everything they know behind in "love" or whatever.

If you combine the elopement trope with the contract/arranged/ forced proximity relationship trope, then you've just unlocked my favorite romance trope of all time- when two people, much to the chagrin and shock of everyone around them, get married/live together, but it's not because they love each other, but rather because they are dependent on each other for protection or to fulfill their respective goals. A great example of this trope in action is from the Tamil movie Ghilli and the experience of watching it in theatres is perhaps the earliest memory that I can recall. In Ghilli, a young 20 something Kabbadi player named Velu , who runs coincidentally into Dhanalakshmi, a young woman who lost her family and is currently on the run from a predatory gangster, who wants to marry her. Velu fights the gangster's henchmen and brings Dhanalakshmi to his home, where he secretly hides her in his room from his parents and younger sister. Comedy and romance ensues as Velu tries his best to keep his secret and Dhanalakshmi finds her self falling one-sidedly for Velu. As a toddler, watching Ghilli was an intoxicating experience, there was something absolutely fascinating about watching Velu and Dhanalakshmi feel so naturally at ease with one another and enjoy the mundane everyday simplicities of celebrating birthdays, stopping hiccups, and looking at baby pictures even at the face of impending doom as a state-wide search has every police officer trying to find her.

After nearly two decades, I felt the same sort of excitement and awe watching the second part of Alchemy of Souls (AoS 2) After watching the first two episodes, I genuinely felt as though the writers of the show secretly hooked up an EEG machine while I was asleep, analzyed my brain, and wrote an entire show with every possible trope out there in the romance that has me squealing, jumping, and giggling:

Soulmates from a past life (technically 3 years ago) ✅

2. Opposites attract ✅

3. Marriage of convenience ✅

4. Running away and getting married in secret ✅

5. Fake pregnancy ✅

6. Accidentally spooning because it's cold✅

7. Second chances ✅

8. Playing too hard to get only to become an absolute simp at the end ✅

9. Amnesia ✅

10. Lots of hugs, hand holding, and accidental kisses ✅

Apart from checking off almost everything in my fantasy romance bucket-list, one of the reasons why Light and Shadow works so well for me as a show is because it so blatantly ditches the idea of rationality when it comes to portraying the relationship progression between Jang Uk and Cho Yeon (known earlier in the season as Jin Bu-Yeon). If you think of other popular romance k-dramas that aired in the past few years, such as Hometown Cha Cha Cha, Business Proposal, or Run On, there's a logical development of events that push the two characters into falling for one another as they end up understanding each other better over the course of the show. Then, there's AoS 2 like Ghilli, where all of that is completely thrown out of the window.

Though the marriage of convenience between Jang Uk and Cho Yeon is set up with the premise of freedom in exchange of ice stone removal, there's this wonderful cognitive dissonance that bubbles quickly within the first two episodes. Our frontal lobe is telling us how absurd it is for Cho Yeon/Bu-Yeon to already be falling in love hopelessly with Uk when she barely knows him, and yet our amygdala can't help but empathize with her when her sincere wishes for Jang Uk to see her beyond her powers. Then there's Jang Uk, whose words never really align with his actions. Just as Jang Uk put up another barrier between himself and Cho-Yeon, we see him go out of his way to illuminate her path with fireflies when she's trying to find her way back. In the same vein that Uk leaves Cho-Yeon waiting all night for him in his room, Uk spends an entire morning searching for her everywhere in Daeho Fortress, practically worried sick about her wellbeing, until he finds her happily shopping at the marketplace.

Jin Bu Yeon: I was hoping for this. I hoped you were the one who turned off the lantern and I hoped that you would come for me despite being of no use to you.

Jang Uk: Even if I did turn it off, it would not be due to the reasons you were hoping for. You know that. So, what are you going to do? If you want, I can help you create that witness you must bring to Sejukwon by the 21st day. That is, if you give up on that futile hope of yours.

Even Jang Uk mentions that he feels like he's going insane when he's with Bu-Yeon. In Episode 7, when Uk, goes back to Jeongjinjak to find Bu-Yeon, he refers to the Jinyowon lantern that brought them together in the beginning and complains to Bu-Yeon that it's broken and it wont stop flickering on and off.

Jang Uk: I am not done yet. I told you that the lantern was flickering. Jin Bu Yeon: So what? Jang Uk: So...When it is on, I am sane. It is clear to me that I must send you back as I promised. But, I go insane when it turns off. I just pine for you. That is why I came to see you. Jin Bu Yeon: So, what about now? Jang Uk: If you are upset and want to leave, I should get a hold of myself and let you go. Jin Bu Yeon comes close and blows air like she's trying to turn off a candle Jang Uk: What was that? Jin Bu-Yeon: I turned it off

In many ways, the lantern is Jang Uk, who battles internally with his growing inclination towards Bu-Yeon and his resolve to drown himself in misery and grief until the ice stone can be finally taken out of him and he can die. There's something beautiful about how illogical their love is because it speaks to how instinctual and effortless loving each other feels because they've been destined to be with each other from the very beginning. Even when they've lost their memories and have been revived from the dead, they manage to find each other every single time. Jang Uk and Cho Yeon are magnets that can't help sticking together even at the face of impending doom, even when its clear that Bu-Yeon will take over the body permanently, as much as both try to resist, they can't help but want to spend their last moments together even if it only lasts a couple hours. Nothing about their lives feel logical and it doesn't make sense, but it doesn't matter because everything feels right when they're together.

Jang Uk to Master Lee: I did not come hoping to spend a lifetime together. I just came to stay by her side until the very last moment. That could last a month, two weeks, or even just a few days. But, I decided not to keep count. I am going to believe that we will always have tomorrow.

The depth of Jang Uk and Bu-Yeon's relationship would not have been convincing if it were not for their dialogues, but also because of the actors themselves. Both Lee Jae Wook and Go Youn Jung did wonderfully in portraying their characters and the chemistry both shared was palpable throughout the show. In previous posts, I talked about how I felt that an actor's eyes play a crucial role in their ability to express themselves in a nuanced matter and add credibility to their lines. As Light and Shadow, Go Youn Jung''s doe-like eyes and Lee Jae Wook's steely gaze both contrasted and complemented each other like their respective characters' yin and yang jade. But, it's also how their facial expressions soften and become more fluid in every scene that they're together. Bu-Yeon's cheery demeanor brightens ten fold when Jang Uk does something to make her smile, and its only in her presence do we ever see him be so genuinely happy.

Even moments of heartbreak between the two feel so real like the scene in Episode 7, where Jang Uk tells her to go back to her maternal home and that he's letting her go, there's so much pain and anger communicated through her body language. The way that her eyes widen and maintain steady contact with Uk and how a tinge of redness in her eyes progressively become larger as she holds back tears has never so thoroughly had me empathize deeply with someone who has felt abandoned.

Another favorite scene of mine that really highlights this is when Uk goes back to Jinyowon to say farewell to Bu Yeon after she leaves him saying that she regained her memories. This scene is truly a testament to how far Jang Uk has become from "playing hard to get" to being the guy who has fallen too hard. The desperation in his voice as he chokes a little before he questions the ludicrousness of Bu Yeon's sudden change in behavior before he proceeds to ramble haphazardly about how he's not letting go and he'll wait for her is *chef's kiss*.

Jang Uk: I CANNOT DO THAT! I thought about it over and over again. The reason I want you to stay was not that I was confused or crazy. I just [...] I just like you that much. I had buried my memories but you took them out and helped me face them. You held my hand when I never thought I could. You helped me sleep when I could not [...] And for that, I cannot stop anymore. So I will be the brazier on a summer day. This time, I will be the one waiting until you begin to miss me

And don't even get me started on the kissing scene they had earlier in that episode. I've watched that scene an embarrassing amount of times, but only because its so eloquently constructed from the way that it's edited perfectly to coincide with the other characters talking about how the two weren't a real couple to begin with to how lost they are in each other that they're completely oblivious to the fact that they're in a library to how flushed they both look with Lee Jae Wook's ears turning a distinctive shade of scarlet red. After the infamous "Birthday Kiss" in It's Okay to Not Be Okay, I think the AoS "Lantern Kiss" will go down as one of the best in kdrama history

I also really enjoyed the other interactions that the show featured such as the dynamics between the Crown Prince and the rest of the characters including his turtle. I also enjoyed the chemistry and fluff between Maidservant Kim and Park Jin as well. Even So-i and Seo Yul made my throat choke up a little. This show's greatest strength this season is how it doesn't shy away from emotional vulnerability and the actors and written dialogue, which become the medium through which this vulnerability is embodied are what carry the show to its finish line.

AoS 2 isn't a perfect show and its clear from how uneven the pacing of the plot is. Despite only having 10 one-hour episodes this season, the show moves at a fairly sluggish pace for the first eight episodes as it takes nearly nine episodes for Jang Uk to discover that Bu-Yeon is really Mudeok. However, what is my biggest gripe with the show is that the writers made Jang Uk too powerful, at the cost of weakening the writing. The last two episodes feature the final showdown after two seasons of tension building up between Jang Uk et al. and Jin Mu et al. Yet, the conflict resolves itself in an underwhelming manner. Jang Uk is truly unchallenged and in order for him to take down some of the most powerful Daeho mages, all he has to do is simply plant his sword firmly down the ground to completely derail their plans of burning down the world. Even when face to face with the mighty firebird, Jang Uk manages to astrally project a bow at the perfect angle to take down the bird in his first try.

At the cost of making Jang Uk powerful, the writing reduced every character to being powerless. For instance, Jin Ho Gyeong, a powerful priestess, responsible for protecting Daeho's most powerful relics, is made out to be someone, who can barely fight back when the Unanimous Assembly attempts to retrieve the Firebird. Worse than Ho Gyeong is Jin Cho Yeon, who has neither showed magical prowess nor strength, despite also have promising potential as a priestess and mage. Jin Mu, once a formidable antagonist in the first season, is reduced to mockery as he does simply nothing when Jang Uk derails his plans. It's also this lack of engaging conflict, which pushes the writers to add unnecessary bait to keep the viewers engrossed in the show. There's a lot of moments in the show, where the writers bait a major character death only to Control-Z and miraculously save the characters thanks to Jang Uk. For instance, in Episode 6, which up till then, made a cure for Seo Yul seem impossible and his death along with So-i's evident, Jang Uk enters the picture and miraculously he's able to force Ho Gyeong to disclose the cure saves his friend. In Episode 10, when Maidservant Kim, Park Jin, and Lady Jin, are all hinted at dying while attempting to protect Jinyowon, Jang Uk again comes in and reveals to everyone that he and his group of allies have managed to save them. Finally, Master Lee, who has been portrayed throughout the season as an unreliable source of foreshadowing. I think these moments hinder the show's legitimacy and the plight of the characters. It's almost like "A Boy Who Cried Wolf", where we can't truly take anything that the writers throw at us earnestly.

Despite its flaws, I would like to reiterate that before AoS, I would have not seriously ventured into the historical fantasy kdrama genre. AoS was the show that had me watching kdramas again after I personally became tired of the "melodrama" genre that dominated Spring and Summer 2022. I can't wait to see the future works that the cast gets involved in the future!

[whatsortofschoolisthis]

Merula: One day I'm going to say "fight me" to the wrong person and someone is just going to deck me.

Talbott: Oh, trust me, that day may be closer than you think.

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Sean: If murdered, I want a closed-casket funeral. However, towards the end of the service, please have the organist play "Pop Goes the Weasel" over and over until everyone in attendance is staring at my coffin with mute, horrified anticipation.

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Bryn: we're about to die! do you really want your last words to be sarcasm?!

Rowan, sarcastically: no of course not! I wanted them to be words of joy at our eminent demise

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Tonks/Jae  *accidentally does something well*: ah shit I’ve given them standards now.

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Jae: The secret to life is to always use more spinach and less rice than you think you'll need.

Penny: The second secret to life is that fresh air, warm sun, and a cup of tea will make your problems small enough to start handling.

Hecate: The third secret to life is that violence sometimes really is the answer.

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Ismelda: And that's why I don't have a boyfriend.

Barnaby: You know, I think there's a lot of reasons why you don't have a boyfriend.

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R: Be careful, there is a fine line between surveillance and stalking.

Professor Rakepick: Yeah, getting caught, which I don't plan on.

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Professor Sprout: Do you have any tips on how to get rid of ants?

Hagrid: I'm assuming diplomacy has failed.

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Sean, after surviving every vault adventure: The universe does not want me or my family dead. It does not want us happy but it does not want us dead.

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Rubin: Okay, now, to review, if a stranger came up to you and said "I'm your mom's friend, she told me to pick you up" what would you say?

Kit: I would say "You are lying, my mom doesn’t have any friends!"

Rubin:...

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Merula: Everyone has called me 'Boris' all day. I think Hecate paid them to

[Later]

Hecate: Absolutely. Five galleons each, and it was totally worth it.

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Liz: Remember, bird-watching goes both ways.

Felix: That's vaguely threatening, thank you.

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Chiara: You remind me of a Russian doll.

Victor: Aw, thank yo—

Chiara: Full of yourself.

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Madame McGonagall: Severus, do you hate children?

Snape: What? No, no, I don't hate children! I can't hate children! Children are excellent! Raising rugrats is my raison d'etre!

Professor Flitwick: How do you feel about friskergibblins?

Snape: What the hell is a friskergibblin?

Professor Flitwick: A friskergibblin is a creature that looks, sounds, and acts exactly like a human child, but is not a sapient creature and does not possess the rights and protections of personhood.

Snape: Oh. Throw every single friskergibblin into the sun at your earliest convenience, please.

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Charlie at the Hogsmede Festival: Are you having fun?

Ben: No. I’m having dark, disturbing thoughts that I don’t like to talk about.

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Cecil Lee after having his werewolf investigation interfered with: What is your problem?

Sean, interfering to protect Chiara: Would you like that list to be in alphabetical order, or based off the severity of them?

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Tonks: Kit, are you sure you don't wanna use my graduation speech? It goes like this: Later, losers.

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Pitts, annoyed: Hey. Let’s play a game. It’s called “See who can be quiet the longest”.

Kit:, in detention Cool! Rubin loves that game!

[balsamfir-fics]

a hope at risk (part 2) [M]

Genres: angst, 99% canon (eps 6-9), more angst, smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of)

Pairing: Viktor/Female Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI; explicit smut in this chapter!

Summary: For nearly two decades after you waltzed out of Viktor's life as the childhood friend who broke his heart, he hoped to forget you. Now that you're back, firmly settled in his life and his arms, he wants nothing more than to live, to love, to dream. With a terminal diagnosis you've yet to learn about in a city waiting to erupt into war, however, Viktor realizes this is a fight for survival against all odds. But he can't lose you again. He won't. He hopes.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2 [M] | Part 3 | Part 4 [FINAL]

Chapter Word Count: ~6.3k

Author Notes: Unedited. Sequel to a hope never forgotten. This work can be read independently of its predecessor – though reading that first will more thoroughly contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Prequel summarized below for those who don’t have time to read it!

Prequel summary: If you are reading this without having seen the previous work, this is the debrief: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.

A Hope Never Forgotten follows Arcane canon up to Episode 5; this work will follow Arcane canon until the end of all currently available content (Episode 9). This piece borrows themes from prior League of Legends lore, but following the events of Episode 9 it will become an imagined ‘what comes next’ as we wait for the events of Season 2.

The prior work deals primarily with holding onto hope; this one deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided.

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My darling Sparrow, I am concerned for you; news of Bilgewater’s infighting has reached the Academy gossip circles and you’ve not updated me since you mentioned having to extend your trip. Please do respond at earliest convenience, or otherwise return home to my open arms. All my tests are going poorly. I’ve only a few options left to try from the complete list of possible rune functions I enumerated. It’s more than frustrating, more than you would ever know, because it’s a very important matter for me to figure this out. This has all got me rather cross and I fear for Jayce’ life in the lab more than I fear for my own. I need you, darling, as uncomfortable as it is for me to lay out this vulnerability. I miss you. Be safe. Come home soon. Vitya —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A barely-there nub of graphite strikes a slow line through the last rune function Viktor previously calculated as an option. His breath hangs in his chest as he stares at the empty space below it; there are no more combinations for him to try, no more options to place hope into. The air around him is still with the emptiness of Jayce’ absence. There’s no point going home; you’re on another trip. There’s no point staying here – he’s tried every single one of the rune combinations and still – every plant dies within seconds of initial flourishing. This, Viktor knows, is the end of the line. Both for the Hexcore, and for himself. He sits in the silence for a few, trembling beats. Then, surprising even himself, he stands with a fearsome energy he didn’t know he had in these ailing months, letting out a carnal scream that echoes off the cavernous walls of the lab. (He hears footsteps scurrying towards the door; then notices a sliver of light enter and a worried voice – “it’s nothing, Miss Young, just stubbed my toe,”  he says to the voice, and Sky shrinks back into the hallway, taking the sliver of light with her). This can’t be it, he snarls inwardly. But he knows it is, knows it in his bones. You’re not here to kiss away his woes, and even if you were – he hadn’t yet told you about his time-bound lifespan, and knew you would take it poorly if he told you now, after so many months of hiding from you. In a fit of desperate rage, he grips his crutch, knuckles turning white as he clenches his fist around it with the kind of strength that only comes from anger. Viktor throws the crutch, not caring where it lands, though he does instinctively throw it towards an area of the lab with no specialized equipment. The sharp clatter of the metal and wood against the stone floors pierces the air and reverberates off the walls, a discordant sound that strangely soothes the creature of fury now living in his heart. Then he hears the crystalline clicks of glass rolling on smoothed stone, and glances down. Glittering purple stares back at him from the vial he procured weeks ago. Another sign of deception, he thinks wrly, a vivid memory of Jayce’ insult to his Undercity heritage as the two men interfaced on the bridge now coming to mind. He’d lied to Jayce then as well, too shaken by Jayce’ poor opinion of undercitizens to confide in his partner about the specialized Shimmer his first mentor provided. Singed’s reply rang in his mind – that single ‘perhaps,’ a seed of doubt that Jayce would understand. Maybe the councilman would have understood the need to investigate unconventional options. Maybe you would have understood Viktor’s need to test out possibilities in endless laboratory hours before coming to you with the truth of his health. Too many maybes, not enough answers. Only empty hypotheses, untested and unproven. The vial rolls all the way towards him, stopping with a light clink as it halts against the metal footwell of his leg brace. He bends to pick it up, lifting the vial to see it against the light emanating from the Hexcore. Viktor sits back, drained of energy from his brief standing session, and lets his hands fall to his knees. He knows that this vial is his last chance, but a polarizing one – a decision he can’t take back. Piltovans might see him as yet another drug-seeking undercitizen if word gets out; and yet, after exhausting every possible rune function, he has no other options if he wants to at least try to get a few more years with you. He pleads with the universe as his body moves of its own accord; his mind asks for just a little bit more time, a little more vitality – just a few more experiences with the love of his life, while his hands search for a syringe and load the vial into the device. It responds to organic matter, he thinks as he grits his teeth, hissing as his precision blade cuts into the skin of his leg. With my health waning, this leg is… disposable, Viktor lies to himself now, telling himself anything that might convince him that the mutilation is worth the risk of a possibility. I have nothing left to lose. It’s not even a guarantee that placing runes on a living organism would help it channel the power of the Hexcore – it’s a shred of hope, and if there’s anything Viktor has learned in the last seventeen years, it’s that hope is sometimes enough. He scratches at the metal of his leg brace now, etching in the lines of a diamond shape a little bit deeper. Then he picks up the syringe, his breathing erratic and worried. But a scary sense of calm settles into the recesses of his mond as he thinks through the scientific method. What’s the worst that can happen? He could die, for one, without saying goodbye, but without telling you about his diagnosis he’s as good as done that already. Viktor thinks about a letter he’s written to you, tucked away above the one he keeps in the depths of his toolbox – one that sorts out his last will and testament, one that tells you everything he wished he could have written to you had you sent your letters to him when they were written. She’ll understand, he tells himself now, and he winces at how it echoes his own words to Singed, words that he now believes were a self-comforting lie. Maybe that’s what this is now, a sad attempt at consolation as he approaches the point of no return. Perhaps legacy was a worthy sacrifice to make for progress, but he tries to console himself now and tell himself that he will not need to offer up love as well. But he’s a doomed man, and he knows it. You’ll understand the necessity of taking this risk, he hopes. Viktor presses down on the trigger, flooding his veins with the contraband, and gasps in pain as the liquid immediately alters his body chemistry for good. Every nerve in his body is on fire for a split-second, then an eerie sense of control and desire flood him. He knows it’s the Shimmer; he knows it’s the high it provides, that helps its users forget their woes or find superhuman strength. In his own body, he knows it only regulates him to a reasonable, average tolerance for pain, but that alone might be enough to get him through this. Panting in staccato breaths, he worriedly reaches towards the Hexcore, mind racing as he feels every beat of his heart powered by Shimmer. He’s not dead yet, so clearly Singed’s new formula works, but he now has the mental clarity to think through the next few possibilities. Breathing heavily, he pulls his hand back and grasps his precision blade. Thoughts flash through his mind, thoughts of choices and decisions – the decisions to make ‘weapons’ in the name of ‘self-defense,’ decisions to turn to life-altering substances in order to survive, choices to run away from love and hide from it as an act of self-preservation. But he thinks, too, of the choices to hold onto hope against all odds; of the decisions to try and do the right thing after so many failures and wrongs, and of pointed efforts to believe in oneself despite public opinion. Viktor reminds himself that he, and Jayce, and you are all flawed, trying to make the best of a complex and troubling world, and notes that some decisions will always have consequences no matter which direction is chosen. With that in mind, he digs the blade into his hand as he hisses through the sensation, and reaches for the Hexcore again. The next few seconds halt all his thoughts in their tracks. It’s unceremonious and sudden – the Hexcore seems to scream and expand, flooding the room with brilliant violet light, and it reaches for him. His fear overpowers the Shimmer and he tries to pull back, but the magic is stronger and all but drags him back to it. It’s violent and terrifying, and it occurs to Viktor that all the suffering he’s endured and ignored throughout his life have never equaled this. It’s all over before the clock strikes another minute. When Viktor comes to, he finds himself slumped against his workbench, and his leg brace totally gone. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He glances at the clock, noticing at once that his senses are sharpened. Not, he thinks, because the Shimmer is still augmenting him, but rather because the fog that has swirled in his body since he fainted seems to have cleared. Viktor feels the dart of his eyes as they move around the lab. Looking down, he sees a foreign object of indigo and gold; it hums with energy and his brain registers the thing as his – as a part of his body, not as an extension of it. He traces his fingers over the plates, then points his foot. Then he gasps – he can feel everything, and what he feels is like nothing he’s experienced in that leg for his entire life. There is strength to this limb; Viktor can feel its capability, and it takes his brain a few more seconds to understand that this is him now. There is no turning back. And even if it were possible to undo this, Viktor hasn’t the slightest idea now. He doesn’t look back at the Hexcore, too concerned with running a battery of tests against the modified limb. Out of instinct, Viktor grabs his crutch and staggers out of the lab, heading towards a part of town that is always quiet at this time of night: the docks. The trip there is short but quiet; a dense mist covers Piltover and hides his tracks. Viktor doesn’t dare put his full weight on the Hexcore-built leg yet; he still leans onto his crutch with every step and takes care not to try his luck. But when he reaches an empty part of the docks, he stands still, shifts his weight until very little of it is supported by the crutch, and finally – finally! – lets it fall to the ground. Viktor takes a deep breath, eyes full of worry as he gazes forward into the mist covering the end of his runway. He takes one step forward with his good leg, then tries a very tentative step with the metal contraption that’s become a part of him. He limps, more out of muscle memory than true capacity, for the first few steps. He takes a few more, watching the ground carefully; his hands are out at his sides, ready to catch himself if he falls. Viktor places a little more weight on his right leg, then in the next step a little more – each new hypothesis tested, proven, and accepted. Then Viktor realizes that this leg can handle his weight in a way that it couldn’t before; he picks up the pace at this discovery, having accumulated enough evidence to take the risks for his next experiment. He leans forward into a slow jog, marveling at each strike of his heel against the floor. He stumbles a bit mid-stride, but catches himself immediately. Bolstered by this surprising lack of failure, he puts more power into his steps and breaks into a full sprint. His lungs let loose a primal scream as the cold, misty air runs through his locks, and it occurs to Viktor he has never once felt alive, like this, before. His life thus far has never been lacking, but tonight’s energy is a stark contrast to the past few months of his declining existence, and it, he finds, is exhilarating. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- At the edge of the dock, he crumples to the floor at last – not because his leg cannot support him, but because his ailing lungs are still unable to supply the oxygen he needs for the rest of his body (or possibly even his metallic leg) to continue. He sags against a pylon, his legs dangling over the water. He… survived. Not only did he survive whatever it was he did with the Hexcore, but he came out the other side with a limb that was stronger than its predecessor. Not in his wildest dreams could such a thing happen, in part because Viktor had never cared to entertain the what-ifs – he’d lived with his leg his whole life, and it simply was. The only reason he’d chosen it for his experiment was because he knew he could survive (even if only for a few months) if something went wrong and he lost the limb completely. But now, on the precipice of the future, Viktor isn’t sure what to think. This is different from the instant wilting seen with every one of his plant-based experiments. Nearly an hour has passed and he’s still alive, the leg still attached to him. And yet his lungs remain to struggle and his spine still needs its supports. Is he more alive than dead now? May he dare to dream? He weighs his options once more, a routine mental exercise for him after receiving his prognosis. He’s run through this several times; he thinks about a future he might have whenever he embarks on a new test. He thought about his options before he tried a new page of rune functions; he thought about them before he injected himself with Shimmer, and he thinks about them again now as he tries to determine whether follow-up experiments will be worth the risk of losing everything. When Viktor closes off factual evidence of his deterioration from his mind, he always thinks about the same three things: a future that is mundane, a future in which you and he have a family, and a future in which his legacy of helping the needy with Hextech is secured. It’s utopia, perhaps, but what are dreams if not wishes for a brighter future? He lets his eyes flutter shut now and blocks out the chill of the midnight air. In his mind, children with unruly hair and bright amber eyes dance around his apartment; they flash toothy smiles at him in a way that reminds him of your own cheeky grins. Other children, who look less like his progeny and more like the peers of his undercity youth, play in a crystal-clear river, breathing in clean air. Citizens of the undercity walk under bright, sunlight-intense lights that facilitate better health in the Lanes; people bustle back and forth across the bridge between Piltover and the undercity easily, and Viktor cannot easily tell who belongs to which region. Hexgate ships travel overhead, and machinery whirs to keep living conditions ideal. His mind takes him back to his apartment, where he sees you curled up with his children on the couch; they are asleep and you are secretly tipping a bit of liquor into your own hot chocolate, before extending the cup to him. He sees his own hand come into view, the mug lifting to his lips, and when he looks down with his mind’s eye, he sees the glittering purple of his foot instead of the brass metal of his brace’s toe-cap. All he’s ever wanted is to live a life of normalcy while working a job of incredible impact. This, he thinks, might just be worth the risk of further augmentation. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A week later, you arrive at Viktor’s apartment after dropping off some things at the Heimerdinger Estate. To your surprise, your father had been nowhere to be found when you tried checking in on him earlier, but you know his councillor ousting had been difficult for him as he loved Piltover so much. The staff tell you he’s left the house shrouded in mystery every morning, a cloak pulled around his small frame, and a part of you wonders if he’s heading to the undercity in these turbulent times, doing the same work you do – meeting people in need where they are, offering assistance if they’ll have you. Your fingers worry at Viktor’s latest letter, crumpled in the depths of your pocket. You’d sent a reply, telling him you expected to be home within one to two weeks with the way your projects had been going, but you’d heard nothing in response. He was usually prompt with his replies, always better at sending word than you were, but he’d been silent. The only thing preventing you from completely falling into anxiety was your run-in with Jayce earlier that morning on your way to Viktor’s; the Councilman had been surprised when you asked after Viktor, but told you your love had been surprisingly peppy in the past few days and that he was probably home taking a nap after a few very excitable days he’d had in the lab. You knock on the door, body too weary to dig into the abyssal depths of your knapsack for your key. A strange sound greets you from the other side of the door; you’re used to hearing the ring of Viktor’s brace on the floor, in a cadence of three: crutch, foot, brace. Today you hear three, but the sound of his brace is strange. It’s muted, yet humming with static energy; it sounds heavier, and you nearly go diving into your bag for your key so you can throw the door open in concern. Instead, Viktor beats you to it, and opening the door himself. You look up at him, eyes worried, but you blink the expression away immediately as you find him standing a bit taller than usual. Your eyes scan his form, trying to understand what’s different, and when you look down, you find him braceless, though he still leans slightly against his crutch. But you can tell his weight isn’t fully on it, and you point at the shiny purple sheen covering his foot. “Exoskeleton,” he says, lying effortlessly through his teeth despite the sharp bite of guilt that pangs him, and he bends in half as his lungs produce a horribly dry cough. Remarkably, as terrible as his lungs sound, they do appear to be slightly better off than before. Viktor tucks away his handkerchief quickly, making sure you don’t catch a glimpse of blood. “New experiment.” You raise your eyebrows at that, your hand on his shoulder from his coughing fit. “Are you alright?” You know he’s been taking his medication, and there’s a different flush to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. The gasping, rattling noises from his lungs still bother you, but you know better than to challenge him on his health. You take victories where you can find them, like in the flickering energy behind his amber irises and the light pink in his gaunt cheeks, and you step forward into his embrace. He’s still impossibly thin, but you certainly feel that his posture is different, that he truly does stand a bit taller than he has in the past few months. It’s an encouraging sight, one that delights you so much that you pepper his cheek with I-just-got-home-and-I-missed-you kisses. Viktor decides right then and there that another round of Hexcore experiments is due. This is what his ideal future feels like, Viktor thinks, but when another series of coughs threatens to erupt from his chest, he remembers that he has yet to resolve the issue of his limited time on Runeterra. “Did the doctors say anything about your lung damage?” You ask, and Viktor presses a kiss to your hair. “It’s slow progress,” he says, and this much is true, though it’s not so much about progress in their medical treatment as it is progress in his understanding of how the Hexcore might absolve him of his physical deterioration. “But it’s getting there.” “Lovely,” you sigh, wrapping your eyes tighter around his body and resting your cheek on his chest. He fully agrees with your sentiment. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Over the next couple weeks you are lucky to have no trips scheduled, a fact you and Viktor both relish in. This gives you time to cook for him and with him, overseeing his nutrition despite his glorious scowls of indignance that he, too, is a grown adult and is capable of feeding himself. He still spends long hours in the lab, poring over this Hexcore he keeps talking about, but he’s careful to be home by dinner. Some days, he asks you to meet him near campus and have dinner at a collegiate greasy spoon; other days, you dine by the pier and watch boats float idly by against a watercolor sunset. His gait is different, and though he still uses the full-length crutch he’s grown accustomed to in the past few years, you can tell that the exoskeleton is helping. Walking is less laborious, if still unevenly balanced, and you wonder if Viktor has always been this tall or if perhaps his scrunched-up, shrimp-like posture had stolen inches from him as his health declined. Perplexingly, he refuses to remove his exoskeleton attachments, something you find rather strange at first but eventually shrug off. Vitkor had always leaned into his experiments with great intensity, and if they were helpful to his physical health with round-the-clock wear, then so be it. He finds his slightly more-able-bodied frame thrilling; it’s been years since he stored trinkets in higher cupboards or helped anyone hoist boxes. And while the matter of his struggling lungs fails to improve, his elation at returning to a brace-free life is one that encourages him to the point that his stagnating experiments don’t bother him as much as they should. To live out the rest of his life with no more than a crutch or a cane (as he did in his youth) would be a benediction he never expected to receive. Hope, it would seem, was restoring for Viktor’s health as much as it had been for his relationship with you. He was confident that he would soon figure out a way to harness the Hexcore for the betterment of his failing organs. An answer would come. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Perhaps the most interesting part of Viktor’s new medical devices is his initial shyness in bringing them into the bedroom. His previous, clunky leg brace had been much more difficult to work around, but its engineering made it more complicated to remove than to leave on (this was something Viktor had learned years before you returned, the first time he attempted sex after having the brace affixed — a frustrated gentleman caller stormed out of his apartment because the pre-coital attempt to remove it had taken nearly two hours and resulted in failure). He’d never once been ashamed of it every time you’d slept together, starting from that first confessional night until a few short weeks ago. But the first time you’d dragged him down to the couch with you, your lips on his, he’d initially refused to let you divest him of his pyjama bottoms. Not being allowed to rid your lover of his pants seemed a bit silly—especially when you were very nearly naked yourself, having long strewn away most of your clothes somewhere on the coffee table. You tugged at a very shirtless Viktor’s bottoms, too excited to wait any longer (he’d said he missed you deeply in his last letter!). A firm grip around your wrists stopped you in your tracks. “Not yet, Sparrow,” he murmured, lips attached to that groove in your neck that rendered you nearly inert. “It looks a bit odd with the… exoskeleton. Leave them on.” “Who said I was going to spend any time looking?” You retorted, but he shushes you with a languid kiss. “What if I said I wanted to watch this time? You’ve only just returned from nearly two weeks away and I’ve spent quite a lot of time thinking about what I’d like to do to you.” “You mean, ‘with me?’” But Viktor only gave you a wicked, knowing smile in return to your query. ‘To you.’ And sort of with you, but mostly to you. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine at his enthusiasm, and you dropped your request to pants him. As he noticed your curiosity fading behind your growing desire, he made a satisfied little noise in his throat before nipping lightly at the skin behind your ear. His teeth grazed down the column of your neck, his lips taking gentle pulls from you and drawing out your soft moans. He trailed inquisitive fingers at the fabric of your underwear as you raised your hips in search of more contact. Viktor all but licked a trail down your chest as he expertly freed you from your bra, shifting himself lower as he went. His knees hit the floor and he was personally surprised (though scientifically nonplussed) to find the posture somewhat comfortable; his ‘bum leg’ wasn’t screaming in protest the way it normally would have if he so much as attempted to dig his kneecap into the hardwood floor of his apartment, if the previous leg brace would have even let him. Encouraged by the obvious lack of physical pain, Viktor sank his weight into his heels and shuffled himself backwards. His talented fingers danced over your skin, making sure not to neglect you even in the midst of his personal discovery. Then he hooked his fingers into your panties, unwilling to waste a moment longer, and began trailing his lips even lower. He pulled away to watch you whine at the loss of contact. When you hissed at him, straining against the sofa cushions, he smiled; his grin widened when you ran a hand through his hair as a silent plea for him to give you what you wanted most. He was more than happy to oblige. First: a kiss right above the apex of your legs. Second: a tentative tongue passed over your still-hooded clit. Third: enjoying your reactions as he lavished attention to the rest of your core before returning to coax your clit out for him, goading you into greater sensitivity. Your sighs of pleasure filled the silence in the room. He had been taking a deliberately slow pace, in part to exert control over the part of his brain that wanted nothing more than to see you to your oblivion, and in part to keep the lurid sounds of his mouth on your wetness quiet enough to allow him to hear you better. But higher-pitched your whines became, the more Viktor found himself unable to keep his own desire back. Pace quickened, Viktor added a long finger to his handiwork — first testing your interest with no more than a fingertip, then slowing pushing into you and curling his finger back as much as you were receptive. When you whispered for another, he obeyed, his tongue making tight circles around your clit all the same. He added a third finger not long afterward, at your breathy insistence that you ‘needed it.’ At some point in your rising action, Viktor’s other hand gained a mind of its own and had found its way to his cock. He became vaguely conscious that he was stroking himself over his thin cotton pyjamas, likely in a fruitless effort to appease his own desperate need. You constantly had that effect on him. You always had, from the first time you made out with him at sixteen, to the present, where all you needed to do was level him with that gaze in order to ignite him. It was an awkward position for him, with limbs all askew and his body scrunched up in the effort to give you pleasure, but he didn’t mind any of it if it meant you were feeling as good as you were sounding. Careful, deft laps from his tongue had you squeezing around his fingers and seeing stars within minutes—then he eased you through the comedown as you gasped for air, your fingers still clutching desperately at the sofa cushions. Aftershocks rippled through you as he pointedly softened his movements, and it’s only after the haze partially clears that you noticed Viktor’s own neediness. You gestured for him to sit on the couch, wanting to give back as much pleasure as you got, but Viktor shook his head. Puzzled, you sat up, watching as he licked your wetness from his lips all the while maintaining eye contact. Curiosity piqued, you then shifted yourself forward in order to bite gently at Viktor’s collarbones, opting to follow that with small, wet kisses across the expanse of his naked shoulders. He twitched at the contact, back snapping ramrod-straight. Viktor pressed himself closer, wanting more. You grinned against his skin. Your fingers danced around his delicate frame, relishing in the textures and shapes that made him who he was, and his body shivered into your touch. Not wanting him to feel self-conscious, you slid one of your hands down to yourself, right where Viktor’s mouth had been not moments before. He gazed down at you, watching with great interest from widely-dilated eyes as you coaxed a moan out of yourself. With your other hand, you hastily pulled his pyjama pants and boxers down, but he stopped you from dragging them down too far. “Still not going to take them off all the way?” Your gaze heady, you gestured aimlessly at the fabric bunched at hips, noting the sliver of visible exoskeletal purple at the top of his thigh. You took his hand in yours, replacing his palm on his cock, and wrapped his hand around his length. Viktor choked out your name at that, upper body falling forward into you with his forehead resting in the crook of your neck. His reply exited his body in staccato bursts. “Not now—don’t worry—too much,” Viktor said in between rather loud kisses down your décolletage. The effect was immediate; he was so incredibly distracting that your remaining protests died on your lips as a new wave of pure need crashed over you. You gasped together, hands on yourselves increasing in tempo, watching the other fall into oblivion mere inches away. “I’m going to—” he started, but found himself unable to complete his sentence. You leaned back into the sofa cushions, smiling at him in encouragement as you brought yourself to the brink. You lifted a finger to beckon to him, suggesting that he was better off cumming on you than the hard-to-clean fabric of his sofa. Viktor immediately rose, half-leaning over you as he came with a muffled shout—you followed suit quickly while writhing beneath him. He tried valiantly to catch his breath after all but collapsing beside you, still half-dressed with his pyjamas pulled below his ass, still hanging half off of the seat. A bright pink dusted his sharp cheeks—you wonder what got him so uncharacteristically bashful right after masturbating in front of you. You briefly thought to ask him, but he leaned up to kiss you so softly that your query vaporized quickly—forgotten until the next round of sex, but forgotten again after that, too. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- These days, he’s much less concerned about covering up his supports. You were glad to see him more comfortable in any regard, particularly in bedroom activities. You gasp for breath after a particularly intense tryst, sticky and trying to steady yourself while Viktor remains pressed up into you while processing his own post-coital haze. Neither of you make any effort to extricate yourselves from each other’s limbs despite the sheen of drying sweat that covers your skin. Viktor’s own recovering breaths sound by your ear; his hair tickles at your neck as he rests his forehead against you. His arms remain tight around your waist. “This is terrifying,” you exhale. Your breath begins to even out and slow as the adrenaline fades away. He hums against your neck, then kisses your shoulder. “What is scaring you, darling Sparrow?” “This,” your fingers trace patterns into his arm. “How much I love you. How much you make me feel, and how close we were to never finding any of this. There’s so much we have to lose, and I’m still in awe that we’re here in the first place.” Viktor ponders that. It’s not entirely off-the-mark; your relationship hung on a fraying thread of hope for seventeen years, and even now, he was acutely aware of the precipice he stood on. If he didn’t find a way to survive his physical condition, then… Viktor didn’t want to think of the alternative, but his mind takes him to a vision of you in mourning black, standing over his grave in the near future. He shivers, goosebumps covering his bare arms. You nestle back into him in an attempt to share your warmth. Clearing his throat in an effort to similarly clear his mind, he produces a question. “What can I do to help?” You’re touched by his selflessness, and pull his arms around you tighter as you rub your fingers over his skin and warm him. You lift his forearm higher. “All you need to do is recover fully and be healthy,” you murmur into the skin of his forearm. Your lips mouth at him, peppering his arm in soft, shy kisses. “I just don’t want to lose you, again.” Behind you, Viktor is silent for a bit, before you feel him shift and prop himself up to rest his chin on your shoulder. His fingers trace featherlight designs below your belly button, absently drifting as he tries to work through his thoughts. When he finally speaks, his voice sounds tentative. “At all costs?” You ponder that. It sounds like he’s asking you what you’re willing to give up in order to ensure his wellness, and the answer to that question is easy. “You’re you, Viktor,” you reply. “We all make sacrifices to become who we are. I gave you up seventeen years ago when I was lost; I think I could only have returned to you after I found who I was meant to be. And now, I have to sacrifice my fear and my guilt in order to become someone you can trust with your heart. None of this comes easy, Viktor, but I know you’ll understand what decisions to make when you come to them. All that matters is that you get better and stay by my side.” With that, you turn in his embrace and snuggle in close, wrapping your leg around his. Viktor twitches a little, then settles as he realizes you’re thankfully curled around his unmodified limb. You feel soft lips press to your forehead; you smile against his shoulder in response. “I adore you,” Viktor murmurs. “Longer than you have known.” You let out a light laugh; you both know that ‘long’ for you both is quite an impressive duration. The implication behind his words goes unspoken, as does your echoed sentiment in your reply.  “I love you too, Vitya.” Something cracks in his chest as he registers the affection the nickname, lighting him up with a burst of energy. Ever since you’d verified your love for each other, you’d started addressing him as such in your letters — a sign that you remembered his birthday wish, long ago in the history of time before you left him. This, however, is the first time you’ve spoken the nickname aloud. Bolstered by the endearment, it’s Viktor who jumps up and dashes for a washcloth this time (an intriguing event; usually he’s far too spent from any intensity of lovemaking and it’s often you who happily fetches something to wipe with). He returns quickly—a lot more quickly than usual, but you don’t pay this much mind as he carefully and somewhat dangerously begins to clean you up. It’s a comfortable sensation at first, because you’re too spent to read much into it, but as he continues you begin to realize that he’s a little too interested in his actions. Propping yourself on your elbows, you lift up to get a better look at his handiwork, only to see him gazing out at you from beneath lowered brows with a darkened stare. “Viktor, what—“ you start to ask what’s gotten into him again (again, shouldn’t he be more than exhausted?) when he (gently) interrupts you by lowering his lips to your still-sensitive core. A soft yelp of surprise leaves your throat and you fall back onto the bed, wondering what possessed Viktor. As if he can sense your question, his lips lift from you and you grumble at the loss of contact. A light rumble of laughter sounds from somewhere near your hips, and you hear something about “a study of the female refractory period” before his tongue is on you once more. As he laps at you, with a distant part of your brain realizing he must also be tasting himself in the process, you think you hear something that sounds like a quiet declaration of gratitude before he works you into an unexpected (though certainly not unwelcome) release. 

[chungledown-bimothy]

If I Loved You Less, I Might Be Able To Talk About It More Part 4

The Goblin Court recognizes Hob, and Rue makes a decision.

Arranged Marriage Battlemaster of Ceremonies AU (Episode 3 Canon Divergence)

I promise, I wrote the Detect Magic -> Cure Wounds before yesterday's episode

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1500

Part Four: Resolutions

Part One Part Three AO3

Hob woke up the next morning to find an envelope tucked under his shoulder. He opened it and saw it was from Lord Blemish and Lady Boil.

Well done with the announcement yesterday, ensuring that the price for the Court of Wonder breaking the deal would be higher than even they can afford. Perhaps we have been too harsh and underestimated you. 

Congratulations, Major Hob. 

We trust you to continue doing as you should at the ball tonight; no need to report to us today.

Everything he ever wanted, and all it cost was being barely, agonizingly, out of reach from something he’d never dared to even imagine, let alone consider possible. Possible or not, the fantasy overwhelmed him as he took quill to parchment and wrote a letter of his own.

To the estimable Delloso de la Rue,

I see now that the battles you face daily are ones beyond my comprehension, and I apologize from every corner of my soul for having the audacity to assume that, between them and your duties here at the Bloom, my words or actions could have any significance for you. I know that I am so far beneath you to be unworthy of your notice, but if I may, I would like to repay your honesty with some of my own.

In doing me the honor of allowing me to see the splendor of your true form, you have bewitched me, body and soul. Seeing you as you truly are sparked something in me that I did not think I could ever be lucky enough to experience. The only thing that has changed about my vow to stay by your side for as long as you would have me there is an increase in both its intensity and the agony, worse than any battlefield injury I have suffered in my many years as a soldier, that I would feel if you sent me away.

I would not, however, burden you with my affections. I still ask for nothing but friendship. I will never speak of these sentiments again, and I will truly be content providing only whatever amount of support and companionship you desire. 

Eternally yours, however you would have me,

Knickolas Pnackleless Hob

P.S., I know you said you didn’t want me to fight anyone for you, but if you did decide to show the Bloom your breathtaking, resplendent truth, I would happily gut anyone who so much as looked at you with anything but the utmost awe and respect. You deserve to be appreciated and honored as your true self.

Hob read the letter over again, and again, and again. I cannot send this. I have no right to, and nothing other than my pain and humiliation could possibly come from them reading it. 

With a sigh, he tucked it away on top of dozens of other letters that would never be sent, albeit the first addressed to someone who could actually read.

He completed his daily calisthenics routine and, when he returned, was surprised to find a letter on the ground in front of his tent.

Captain Hob,

As I am sure you are aware, tonight is the ball. Please meet me in my quarters at your earliest convenience- in addition to ball attire coordination, I believe we need to discuss… well. I think you know, and I’d hate for that information to fall into the wrong hands. 

Yours,

Delloso de la Rue

Doing his best to ignore how his heart was racing from the invitation to their personal, private quarters, he immediately headed their way.

He arrived quickly, and the sight that greeted him when Rue opened the door made him weak in the knees. Their iridescent robes practically floated behind them, reflecting the light in ways that made them seem to be glowing, and he heard a faint tinkling of bells instead of swishing as it moved. 

“Captain, good morning! I- I apologize for my attire, I seem to have lost track of time. Please, come in and take a seat. It’ll only take me a minute to change.” They stepped back, opening the door wider, and he stepped through. As he walked past them, he briefly caught the scent of the same flowers from the maze, the flowers they had been wearing in their true form. 

After the door was closed and he was sure no one else could hear, as Rue was walking deeper into their chambers, he muttered, “If you would feel more comfortable returning as your true self, there would certainly be no objections from me.”

-

“There would certainly be no objections from me.” Hob remained standing in place next to the chair they’d gestured for him to take, but his words followed Rue all the way back to the enormous room that was their closet. As they circled the room trying to decide what to wear, something else he said echoed in their mind.

“Delloso, I-” Delloso. Not Rue, not Delloso de la Rue, Delloso. They couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called them that. The thought occurred to them that it was entirely possible no one had. 

With a deep breath, they dropped the glamor, got dressed, and headed back out to properly greet only the second person they had allowed to really see them in millennia.

-

Hob didn’t think Rue had even heard him suggest that they could drop the glamor, so when he saw them seemingly gliding across the floor towards him in all their true, radiant beauty, he collapsed onto the chair beside him. 

“Hob! Are you alright?” Rue rushed to him, and the concern in their voice snapped him out of his stupor.

He cleared his throat and sat up as straight as he could. “My apologies, I am quite well.”

“With all due respect, Captain, you collapsed. Someone of your… physicality does not do that without great cause.” They knelt down next to him and took one of his hands in both of theirs. They quickly cast a Detect Magic that came up empty and a Cure Wounds that also didn’t feel like it did anything.

Hob gently lifted their chin with his free hand and made eye contact. “Rue, I appreciate the concern and the spells, but I assure you, I am fine. It simply has been quite a morning, and you doing me the honor of once again allowing me to behold you as you truly are proved to be a bit overwhelming. Again, I am so sorry for having caused you concern.”

“I- I see.” They let go of his hand and stood up. “My apologies for having distressed you so. Momentous morning, you say? May I ask what has happened?” Hob stood up as well and tried to make eye contact again, but they refused to meet his gaze. 

“Let me be clear, Rue. I was shaken not out of distress but of awe. If I may be so bold, you, like this as you are, are beautiful. More so than anyone I have ever met. I am aware that this is overstepping the line of the friendship you have so graciously offered, but as we are to spend the rest of our lives together, I will not have you believe for another minute that I think anything less of you. You needn’t ever feel ashamed of who you are. I will not pressure you in any way to bless the realms with the privilege of you sharing your truth with them, but if or when you do, know that I will proudly stand beside you every step of the way.”

“Captain, I-”

“Major, actually. That was the momentous news this morning; our announcement yesterday was apparently so successful that the Lord Blemish and Lady Boil saw fit to promote me. Sorry for interrupting, it’s just that you’d asked what happened and I didn’t actually answer but then you called me Captain again, and I just-”

Rue finally looked at him, no longer up like when they met but down ever so slightly, and smiled. “Congratulations, Major Hob. You deserve such recognition from your court. And you didn’t overstep. Your words mean more to me than I can express. 

To be entirely honest, since the rumor is that this is to be the last Bloom, I’d been considering coming out, as it were. When I was informed of our engagement, I had changed my mind, out of fear that it would, I don’t know, cause your court to break the deal and bring so much dishonor onto both my name and my court’s. 

But hearing you, the honorable, trustworthy gentleman I know you to be, say all of that… I’m ready. I hate to ask you to be in the spotlight once again, but what say you to making a bit of an entrance at the ball tonight?”

He smiled and bowed deeply. “As you wish. It is your moment, and I am happy to be entirely at your disposal.”

[inkwellencrier]

I'm sorry anyone who I know that doesn't know anything about Bionicle but I NEED to ramble about the matoran in 01-03 because I love them

I read Bionicle in a weird order. Bionicle itself started when I was like. 3? My earliest memory of Bionicle is staring for like. Hours at the Rahkshi advertisement in a Lego magazine. My earliest memory of the story is the Toa Metru fighting the Morbuzakh and I didn't really get a solid grasp of the plot until 05. Some time during the ignition trilogy I started going back and reading things like the novels and watching the movies and such. But everything I read was really Toa-centric because well, that's how Bionicle goes.

Then there was MNOG. I don't remember exactly when I played it but I was CAUGHT UP in my mind at that point. I thought I knew EVERYTHING about the story.

At first, it was just neat to travel around as a matoran and help solve little problems. But slowly it started turning everything on its head. Suddenly I'm seeing that while all the Toa went around saving the day and finding their masks... The villages they were defending were ALIVE. They weren't just set dressing, all these matoran had LIVES and AMBITION and they weren't going to just sit around cowering in fear... They were going to defend their home.

When I started the part where you gather the chronicler's company, I was CERTAIN I was going to be gathering at least SOME of the Toa Inika/Mahri, only to discover that NOT ONE OF THOSE MATORAN CAME WITH ME, but that instead my company was mostly friends I had made along the way. Then the game immediately had me put their unique talents to use and then had me defend the Toa from the Rahi in an epic battle with their help.

It was incredible experience where almost nothing about the main story changed but I just... Got to see it from the perspective of not the heroes, but the people the heroes were defending.

A lot of events happened both in MNOG and the Bohrok animations that as standalone stories would probably be considered Deus ex machina, where the Toa just show up and conveniently fix the problem just in time. But like. That's realistic for what was taking place at the time. These heroes, realistically, were the only ones actually equipped to deal with these threats. But the fact that the matoran still TRIED. Their sheer determination and will in the face of actually impossible odds. And the fact they even won some battles themselves! It just won me over. The 01-03 matoran storylines will always be my favorite.

[baronvonriktenstein]

INCHERESTING...... so wait, tell us more about Juniper and Nanami as characters, like.... their races and all that jazz???

DISCLAIMER: Not to be the worst worldbuilder and character creator ever, but I don't know. That means right here I'm gonna try to build them up right now!

And I'm being transparent here (You might say "Hey, if you didn't say this opening bit, I wouldn't know") because ... right now they're not solid characters... so if I change them completely somewhere down the line, you know why. [For example: in her earliest incarnation, Jocelyn had brown hair and green eyes. That is no longer the case. And these characters still aren't solid because I think of them in terms of random episodes and also I've basically abandoned them lol but I'm trying not to do the same with Nanami and Juniper, if that's not clear. I also wanna ... divorce them from their ‘actors’ but it's kind of hard, especially in regards to Jun lol]

. [character info below]

As far as race goes, on the Actor level, they're both played by my in-universe Japanese-American actors. So the characters are East-Asian coded but they would live in a Fantasy World, most likely, that isn't specifically our Earth, probably. (Nanami's hard to tell but that's because Anime style is like that lol) In-universe, Juniper's human or at least humanoid. Nanami is a shapeshifting sea monster of some kind. Legend has it, she eats humans. Whether or not that's true? Who knows. She takes the form of a rather busty, pretty woman, you know, cuz that means it's easy for her to get around and con people. Even her own people might not know what she is... well at least some of them.

The way I treat the story so far, Nanami might as well be a stock villain, but...

I think she might have some loyalties among her crew/team/hell even servants. Like so long as they're devoted to the group and/or her, she'll look out for them. On the other hand, she's hard in punishment and perceived betrayals. And in narratives where she's not a metaphorical monster, if one of her crew crosses a line with her. Killing is generally ok, torture is not always. She's prone to lashing out and violence. She enjoys at the very least fighting and drinking and thieving, even in universes where she's not outright evil.

She's impressed by some level of defiance sometimes. Really depends lol. Definitely impressed by people surviving overwhelming odds.

I wouldn't say she's a romantic, but she can be the kind of person who ... if she fell in love with someone, she would kill for them, she would absolutely do the worst of the worst for them. If they didn't want her to, but they loved her too, and she realized that, and in a more sympathetic narrative, she would ... try her best for them lol.

She's the kind of woman who's perceived as ruthless and fearless (and sometimes is) but can potentially also be ... awkwardly gentle... like she's lived a kind of life where she doesn't know how to be gentle. Perhaps, as a monster, she was raised to be a certain way and in more sympathetic narratives about her, she doesn't want to be... at least not all the time. She still genuinely likes fighting, after all.

No matter what, unless a long term story goes a certain positive way... if her most cherished person was killed.... well... no good will come to who was responsible.

Alternatively, If she'd had her heart broken by, say, Juniper, she'd probably turn cold and crueler than before :) No going back. And of course other negative narratives... Well she can't feel genuine love... And any loyalties among her crew come from ... well convenience. It’s smart to have people loyal to her for reasons beyond fear, so she will look out for them in a way.

.

The way I treat the story so far, Juniper might as well be a set piece, buuuuuuuuut...

I think he's a gentle, smart boi uwu

Not too gentle.

He's certainly in love with someone he doesn't think he should be in love with (his best friend, his best friend's dad lol, his boss. I don't know who it is. [It's not for gay reasons that he's nervous about it btw, it's because of like... class] (alternatively instead of a maybe one-sided crush, it could also be like... an affair ooooooo *wiggles fingers*)

His emotional attachment to that man, deserved or not, is what will land him in Nanami's uhhh care. Maybe she attacked their carriage to rob them, maybe she was specifically going after a wealthy person/person's son, and uhhh Jun would lay down is life for him, likely by tricking her into thinking he's who she's looking for, or just in a desperate pleading kind of way "take me not him" and she's feeling generous.) My friend @momopeachchild also threw in a possibility that she's looking for a treasure and thinks he either is the physical embodiment of what she's searching for, or he knows where it is, which I do enjoy. In this case he'd definitely be like "I'll go with you if you let them [people he's with] go free." -The point is ... he's either a kind, loving person, or he's just really devoted to someone a little too much.

... less likely the last circumstance because i think if he's held prisoner, being questioned, whatever... He'd like not talk. For as long as possible. Initially he'd avoid eating and drinking for a few days but would come to the conclusion that if there's poison in the food/drink, it'll kill him. If not, he'll die a much slower more miserable death. If it's other drugs... well if he doesn't eat or drink, he'll be too weak to fight anyway, so he will concede to eating and drinking before Nanami expects him to "give up" but he will pointedly avoid eating any meat because yeah he's worried it's like... people lol (not that he knows she's a literal fish monsters, just... there are rumors about these people as the worst of the worst). At least for as long as he can manage.

Whenever he gets a chance to escape he will take it (I don't know what that is).

Any romance would start after this point. Because let's say this is a positive storyline because if it's not, this is just a point where Jun ultimately becomes a tired man who's trying to hold onto his sanity as long as possible but he's just a man. I mean it could take more escape efforts, but it's... But for a happier story: He's given freedoms because Nanami's just kinda impressed and maybe a little surprised no one's showed up for him yet... depends. And I mean maybe she didn't wanna imprison him all that long but she's realized he's not who he said he was so held him imprisoned longer while she was tryna figure out what to do. and now she's like "I like his spirit so"... Also if he got injured by one of her people, she's mad at that person for uhhh being a little too brutal for her taste. and if he's injured by accident trying to escape her, she realized "Oh I ... I think I was too bad of ... a host." Anyway

Given freedoms to walk the grounds and the castle, given new clothes, having been taken care of, he's... confused and still on edge. He can't trust her like that y'know. He'll be the one to have to ... put out an olive branch essentially after he observes her as a reasonable person.

If they bond, it's over stories, books, they'd sword fight (she'd train him but he wouldn't be bad at it... he'd have learned to protect his friend/master). It's cute.

The majority of the time, I think even after finding out she's a literal monster, that is not what bothers him about her. He'll maybe be startled but uhhh I don't think he'd fully reject her for that reason.

Ultimately, whether or not I conveyed it here... I want him to be kind and smart and resourceful, but also a scared man who's trying so hard not to be, and luckily looks like he’s more annoyed than anything. I want him to be heartbroken in some way about his 1st love interest (not reciprocated as far as he knows, thinking he's being abandoned by him (whether or not that's true) or ... something.

Ah, there are possible storylines where she never turns good but she's not all that bad, and in those he'd kinda just maybe eventually join her side and he'll be more diplomatic for her sake. Like he can reel her in at her worst for their benefit y'know?

I don't know what else to say, this is going too long.

[nothoughtsthorin]

A Journal Post.

This isn't Traditionally my sort of thing, but I need a place to categorize and sort out all my conflicted and disorganized thoughts and feelings that is, at least in part, burdenless, so feel free to skip this. Especially if you have issues with Parental abuse.

I feel like part of my problem as of late, is my inability to say No. Growing up, my father "Encouraged" (in the traditional fashion, cough cough) obedience, convenience and, more than both of those, guilt. Guilt for not being more masculine, for not being more aggressive, for not being like my brother, and, I'm realizing more and more, being Unusual. For enjoying bugs and critters, for loving flowers, for loving nature. It's why I forced so much of myself down, and honestly, why no school bully could ever measure up. How can they, when my biggest baddest bully was so close to home?

So I started cutting off pieces. I stopped drawing flowers, opting for muscular dudes and tights. (Man I should have known about being gay sooner tbh) One of my earliest characters was a hero because of that. No more getting excited about moths or butterflies, we're excited about boxing, and getting more Manly. Getting a couple rounds in with dear ole dad, getting hit for trying to refuse to hit back. Being taught to hunt and to kill, to survive and endure. Forced in to a mold, essentially.

I feel like lately I've been trying to reclaim some of what I lost, and what I was forced to gain. Some surprised me- my new favorite dnd class is Monk, and I actually do want to pick boxing up. Which I guess is me trying to develop a healthy relationship with what I have. I've started pointing out cool bugs again, catching frogs (gently!!) and befriending them, following the journeys of the different caterpillars and moth larva and allowing myself to enjoy flowers again. I feel like I'm finding me again, not fast enough, but it's There.

But unfortunately, that programming is still there too. It's manifesting in my relationship, and now that I see it, in past ones. Being too eager to please, too eager to set aside need and want just to ease suffering, too eager to burn myself to keep somebody else warm. I thought maybe, if I tried I might be able to convince Him to see it, to recognize it was too much for me and to take some of the burden. Maybe tomorrow he'll do the thing I asked, maybe he'll make himself dinner if I ask, maybe he'll do his laundry this time. Maybe he'll feed my lizard while I'm Away. But. Maybe is always no, for Better or for Worse. I can't love him so much that he treats me how I want to be treated. No amount of attempting to fill in the blanks will be Enough, because I'm only giving him pieces of me. And, for a while, I was convinced that those pieces weren't Significant. I could make do, with less, with working and managing. I can't. I think I'm ready to Admit that. That's what's Finally different. I know it isn't enough, for Certain. It feels silly that it took Two years. What's funnier about it is somehow my best friend went through such a similar situation. She's blossoming and I know I can too, but I need my effort to be for me for a change, and I need to be willing to fight for that. I've always been a protector and a supporter, but I have to do those things for Me. We'll be doing a counseling session, but I'm not sure that's enough anymore. I know I have a lot of reflection to do, and sweet holy FUCK DO I NEED SOME THERAPY BAYBEEE, but I think I'm Lucid again. I'm not sure what happens now, for once. I love him and I think, regardless, I may Always. Problems aside, he's silly, tries to be sweet, and I think genuinely has just had a hard life, there were and are good times. I think I'd genuinely love having him as a friend, but until I'm in a better place I don't think this relationship is sustainable. Part of me wants to hope, but the other part wants to use that hope for Me.

All I know is now, I'm tired of healing others and it's time to heal Me.

[jq37]

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 1

The Case of the The Pernicious Party  

Hello, hello, hello! It’s been a hot second but your resident D20 recapper is back to tackle the newest season: Mice and Murder! Y’all had to know I wasn’t gonna sit out the murder mystery, are you kidding me???

I might be playing around with the format a bit in the coming weeks to make sure I have the best possible system for keeping track of possible clues, suspects, and theories as we untangle whatever web Brennan weaves for us this season so don’t be surprised if things change a little. 

Anyway, without further ado, onto our mystery!

Summary

In case you missed it, this season takes place in an alternate, Zootopia/Wind in the Willows-esque universe where all the characters are animals but history seems to have happened in more or less the same way--for example there was still a King Charles but he was a King Charles Spaniel (cute Brennan). Our story specifically takes place in the English village of Tufting Meadows.  

We start with Katie’s character--Gangie Green (Weasel/Thief Rogue) in the graveyard of the Anglican Chapel (Our Lady of Prayerful Paws). Gangie, we learn, is an orphan who was kicked out of the orphanage at some point for thievery. Obviously, he’s not reformed of the habit because he is here to do some graverobbing. On a nat 20 (that Katie hilariously doesn’t notice even though her total is like a 29) Gangie can see through the window of the rectory that there is a weeping window inside--Catherine McCabbage who is being (dubiously) tended to by Raph’s character, Vicar Ian Prescott (Owl/Bard, College of Eloquence). 

Ian comes from a line of men of the cloth but he’s not exactly the best speaker despite his subclass. He’s doing his best though! The widow’s husband (Conor McCabbage) died at the local mill in what has been declared an accident but she suspects foul play. She’s been hearing his voice on the wind and wants Ian’s professional opinion on whether this could be a sign from God or if her husband might be speaking to her from beyond the grave or something like that. Ian gives a very muddled and not very comforting answer but seems pretty sure that something sketchy did in fact happen. Then, he sees a crack of lightning outside which illuminates the graveyard where he gets a glimpse of Gangie. 

He goes to check it out (and Gangie fully has an elderly goat he’s dug up slung over his shoulder) but “gravedigger” is his legit job so Ian decides to assume whatever’s going on is legit and not ask too many questions. He goes back to the widow (who, before she leaves, says that maybe sometimes people need to work on God’s behalf) while Gangie takes the body Loam Hall (a massive manor, built into a hill).

We cut to the next day and our next two characters! 

At 22B Hamsted Street in a pretty well appointed home are Ally and Grant’s characters. First up, we have Lars Vandenchomp (Huge ass Doberman/Battlemaster Fighter) who is so tough looking but also so Swedish sounding--it’s A Lot (so, incredibly on brand for Ally). Lars is security for Grant’s character Sylvester Cross (Fox/Inquisitive Rogue) who is a kinda (to use Grant’s word) “foppish” Sherlock Holmes type. He was hired by Squire William Thornwall Brockhollow to figure out what happened with Conor McCabbage (and clear him of negligence in running the mill) but he couldn’t find any evidence of any funny business, making this the only case he’s never cracked. He’s not as young or popular as he once was so this is, understandably, bumming him out. He’s even more bummed out when he realizes that William has invited him to his 60th birthday party that’s happening that night (as kind of a prop to show that he did his part in trying to solve the mystery) and Lars has already RSVP’d yes. He grudgingly agrees to go as it’s one of those asks that’s really more of a veiled demand but decides to pull the money he was paid from the bank first so he can return it and really stick it to the guy.

Finally, we cut to our last set of PCs who are on their way to Tufting Meadows via a very luxurious train. Inside are Sam and Rekha’s characters! Sam is Buckster $ Boyd (Peccary which is like a small boar/Mastermind Rouge) a Texan Oil Tycoon who acts exactly how you’d expect a Texan Oil Pig to act. Yes, you pronounce the dollar sign as “dollar sign” (even though as we find out later his middle name is Cassius so it’s like Cash which I think is super cool). With him is Rekha’s character, Daisy D'umpstaire (Raccoon/Assassin (???) Rogue another American (from South Carolina) though it seems she’s My Fair Lady’d herself into an upper class socialite (her last name was previously Dumpster). They’re traveling with their accountant, an Armadillo named Armond who seems kinda skittish and concerned about their travel expenses but Buck tells him that to make money you gotta spend money and they’re gonna make a *ton* of money on this trip. They’re also so so mean to him for absolutely no reason. 

When the train stops, they’re greeted by Templeton Padhop (a frog, natch) who is the chauffeur of Loan Hall, sent to fetch them. A wheel on his car is broken so he joins in on the Armond abuse immediately and has Armond roll into an Armadillo ball and replace it. Poor guy. When they show up they're greeted by a footman--a pug in a bowler hat named Milo Snout.

Meanwhile, Lars and Sly (Oh, Sly fox, I see what you did there Grant) are similarly greeted by another footman--a lizard named Basil Baskins. On a 23 perception check, Lars sees that Jeremy “Jez” Brockhollow is inside (the son of William who is a badger btw) and also clocks Gangie (who they know as a career criminal who disappeared like a year ago). Gangie doesn’t notice Lars though. 

Ian, who is also invited, shows up at about the same time as Sly but very quickly, the conversation is taken over by Lucretia “Lucy” Brockhollow, William’s older, eccentric sister who immediately gets into it with Lars about astrology and the occult (she thinks bad stuff is happening because of a curse let loose when Sly’s old rival--a rabbit named Fletcher Cottonbottom who is the son of his former employer--opened an Egyptian tomb). They’re thick as thieves right away because Ally is a nonsense magnet. And not like a regular magnet, one of those big electromagnets. 

Daisy and Buck spot William’s kids--the aforementioned Jez and his older sister Constance--along with their husbands Dr. Corbin Magpie (Constance’s and obv a magpie and a doctor) and Osmond Sheffield (Jez’s who is a Ram and a lawyer). Daisy is too stuck in her conversation with a truly unhinged squirrel (Lady Eugenia Bristlebrush who clearly does not know she’s in a murder mystery because she just keeps talking about how much she hates and wants to kill everyone) to hear what’s going on but she indicates the conversation to Buck who is able to eavesdrop and hear that they’re lamenting that Catherine--the widow--RSVP’d no which is gonna look really bad, like they didn’t invite her (bad PR). 

Buck, introducing himself as a business partner of William, eases into a conversation with the husbands which their respective spouses also join into and we learn that Buck's dad was British and a friend of Willian’s. Buck bonds with Jez (who is a bit of a dilettante) really quickly since Buck is ready to go drinks-wise immediately (and there’s a stellar pun about the “American [Drinking] Constitution''). Through the window, Buck notices Gangie outside getting his attention. 

At the same time, Ian is going from party guest to party guest, giving out the penances he forgot to earlier at church (as one does). We see him talking to the Lord and Lady Bramble (a cow and hedgehog, respectively) and while she wants to pray her way out of situations without doing any legwork, he wants to buy his way out and gives Ian 250 pounds. A frustrating but financially lucrative conversation.  

Buck goes outside to talk to Gangie who has a list of names of the bodies he’s been collecting. We’re not told what Buck is doing but it seems that this list is extremely valuable to him in some way. Gangie (who Buck keeps calling Gangly, to his annoyance) pays him handsomely (like, with a 50% tip) for the list (and Gangie gives him the real list, despite Brennan saying he didn’t have to). We also learn that Gangie has allegedly been getting the orders from someone in Loa Hall and they flow from William himself.

Matilda Molesly (a mole and the head maid) invites Gangie to come in from the rain--she’s the only person who’s been consistently nice to him and he agrees to come in for tea and scones. 

Everyone is ushered together by the butler (because of course there’s a butler--he’s quite literally a fancy rat named Thomas Gilfoyle) and William gives a speech where he wishes Conor well and kinda highlights that he did hire Sly to solve the case in a “Hey, I did my bit don’t blame me” kind of way. He also makes a 150k pound donation to the church (and Ian thought 250 was good) and tells his daughter not to read the praise he got for it from the cardinal when she mentions it (I wonder if that was choreographed). Sly interrupts the speech to “magnanimously” give his money back, to William’s annoyance. Buck notices that Lawrence Longfoot (a nouveau rich, rabbit photographer) takes a pic of the scene but with Sly in the foreground and William in the background. 

Then, a few things happen at once (in a very cinematic way):

As the camera flashes, Mrs. Molesly drops her tray, eyes hurt by the light. Lady Calliope Fawnbrooke (Deer, Matron of the Arts) helps her up.

In the moment of dark, after the flash goes away, the butler disappears. 

Buck thinks he sees a shape through the window, out in the rain. 

A cheer goes up for Sly for returning the money but all Sly can focus on is one figure he recognizes in the back of the room. Daisy, who is downing her drink and not cheering for him. He downs his as well, and looks at her until she breaks the stare and leaves the room. 

And this episode doesn’t end with a dead body like I thought, but with a flashback to a younger Sylvester, 12 years ago when he first met Daisy.

PC INTERPERSONAL DRAMA Y’ALL!!! Get HYPED! 

Case Notes

Here is a compilation of all the characters (PCs and NPCs introduced in this episode). 

Sly mentions that Ignatius Cottonbottom faked his own death as a part of some scheme which seems like a backstory point that might come back later--we now know that there exists a way to convincingly fake your own death in this world. 

Sly walks with a walking stick because of some “mysterious accident” but we’re jumping into a flashback next week so it looks like we might find out about it pretty soon. 

Sly also mentions he used to be the personal physician to the elder Cottonbottom so those are skills he has. I wonder if that’ll be useful to this healer-less party. I wonder if cleric was even an option in this world which seems to be low to no magic. It would explain by Ian is a bad and not a cleric. 

Lars has a military background which I wanted to mention in case it becomes relevant later. 

And Dr. Magpie grew up poor and still acts it a bit even though he married a very rich woman. Brennan uses the very good line, “He forces his body into the shape of an apology”

This might be a really deep cut reference but did anyone else here was the old Britcom “Keeping Up Appearances”? Cause I was getting serious Bouquet/Bucket energy from Daisy. 

This is an all College Humor season and it shows. The energy of 6 (7 if you count Brennan) top notch comedians sparking off of each other, trying to one up each other is off the charts. Some of the best bits this episode:

“When God closes every door but one, you go through the door that is open.” followed by “I’m an owl by the way.”

“Time is money, here’s both” from Buck re his inscribed gold pocket watch--everyone at the table loved that so much and they’re right. 

Armond going from being a third to a fourth wheel. 

And the names--I already shouted out a ton on the main recap but also a rat butler (like Rhett Butler) and naming the mouse Cat(therine). Can’t forget Gangie Green/gangrene from Katie. Also points to Ally for the data stealing Eel Musk which broke Brennan a little. 

I know we just went through this with Crown of Candy but what are these animals eating? Like, in Zootopia there were only mammals so we can assume the carnivores are eating like birds and fish but there are sentient birds here. I know this isn’t important. I’m not trying to do a CinemaSins gotcha. I just wonder, you know?

Y’all were waiting for all the lights to go out during that speech and then come back on and there’d be a body too, right?

If Brennan makes the bad guy a chicken or a duck or something so he can make a “fowl play” joke, he is cordially invited to catch these hands. 

I have been waiting for Raph and Katie to do D20 forever. Their specific brand of nonsense on Rank Room was always amazing. 

I love love love that Grant and Rekha are the PCs that have ~a past~ because they are so funny together. If you haven’t seen their episode of Game Changers, you absolutely must (it’s also a murder mystery actually!). 

[keyofjetwolf]

Stop being naughty

Too many of you have been changing your icons, and it’s clear I must remind you that this is illegal as it confuses me. Who is this talking on my dash? WHO KNOWS NOT ME THE TINY PICTURE IS DIFFERENT I AM SURROUNDED BY STRANGERS

Please cease all icon changes, or face arrest by me, which is very threatening and you should all take this seriously.