#i write too much dialogue i think

[queer-spectre]

sometimes......u gotta look at just ur page number and not ur word count....she is more Kind, somehow.

[dumplingsjinson]

The morning after a one night stand ??

List of “the morning after a one night stand” prompts 

“I’m confused— what happened last night? And also, are you naked? Why are you naked?”

“I need a rewind of last night, from start to finish. Physically.” 

“I mean… I love when accidents happen?”

“That was a one night stand and you damn well know it.” “Yeah, but it didn’t feel like one.”

Character A waking up to an empty bed and a splitting headache. 

“…This is going to become more than just a one night stand if you keep staring at me like that.” “You were awake this whole time?!” 

“There were feelings — feelings I’m not so sure I liked feeling.” 

“Stay for some breakfast?”

“Okay, I know we agreed for this to be a one night stand but… I kinda wanna break that agreement.” 

Character A waking up to Character B snuggled up to them, their limbs entangled and their naked bodies pressing against each other’s. 

“We were both drunk.” “We were far from drunk.” 

“Everything aches.”

Character A, pinned under Character B, whose eyes are roaming their whole body, before they flicker back up to their eyes; dragging back down to their lips. “Since you can’t remember the details, then let me do the honour of triggering your memory from last night, yeah?”

“Last night was good practice.” “Bitch, what? Excuse me?”

“I still can’t get over how you knew just how I liked it without me needing to tell you.”

“So. Let’s talk about the ‘I love you’ you let slip?” “…Um, an even better idea. How about we don’t?”

“I wanna do that again.” “The point of a one night stand—” “It doesn’t have to be a one night stand.”

“You look good in my shirt.” 

Character B pulling Character A back into bed with them, preventing them from leaving.

“I’m up for some morning sex if you are.” 

“…That was a momentary lapse of judgement on my part.” 

“Kinda don’t wanna get outta bed.” 

“Dude, you fucked the living daylights out of me last night and you expect me to be able to walk properly?” 

“I’m never drinking again.” 

“We really shouldn’t have done that…”

“Do you regret it?” “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Problem is, I don’t want this to be a one night stand.” 

“You think I can’t make you sound like that again?”

Character A and Character B agreeing to not talk about this ever again.

“…I think feelings were involved in that.” 

“We can always do that again if you’re down for it.” 

“This.” Character A sighs. “It’s— it’s going to turn into a reoccurring thing…” they say, trailing off into a soft whimper as Character B thrusts their fingers into them again.

“Mistakes were made!” “That wasn’t a mistake.” 

“Oh no.”

“…I’d give my soul to have you like that again.” 

“You up for some brunch?” “Hell fucking yeah.” 

“Because God forbid we fall in love after that.”

Character A waking up to Character B’s face smushed against the pillow and giggling a little. “Wake up, sleepy head,” they murmur, prodding their nose lightly. “Go away,” Character B grumbles, swatting their hand away. Something in Character A thuds against their chest. (Oh. It’s their heart. And there it goes, again, doing its daily fucking gymnastic routine whenever they’re near Character A.) 

“Hit me up again so we can just hang.” “Just hang?” “…Yeah, you heard me. Just hang.” 

“I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

“…We made bad decisions last night.” “I think we made great decisions.”

“You couldn’t have left evidence on more visible spots, could you?”

“…What’s this?” “My number. In case you want to call me… Or something.” 

“Surely I’m not the only who doesn’t want this to end like this,” Character A murmurs into Character B’s neck. 

“Want me to hit the right spots again?” Character B says softly, sending shivers running down Character A’s spine; hand splayed on their bare stomach. “Y-yes, please,” Character A answers, arms tightening around their neck. “Need you like I needed you last night.” 

“You know what, as much as I like one night stands, I don’t like the idea of it when it comes to you.”

“I don’t want to sever this connection that we seem to have.” 

“Funny thing is, I don’t regret what happened. And I want it to happen again. That’s far from regret.”

“Currently thinking of abolishing this one-time rule we made.”

“This is to be kept between you and me, got it?” “Wouldn’t dream of letting someone else know I had you moaning my name all night long, would I now?” 

[carlyraejepsans]

Do you enjoy underfell? I thought you disliked aus /genq

i don't dislike the concept of AUs itself, I'm just not a fan of like... the subculture that spawned around them in the UT fandom specifically and how it eventually took over almost all canon content (especially when it limits itself to the bros)

i like aus visually! i am an artist at heart after all. it's just that, if I'm going to care about them as stories and not just fun design ideas, my bar is uhh almost impossibly high the further you move from canon lolol.

[stormyweaver]

First Time For Everything || (Part 2/??)

NOTES: I'll add the title to my first part posted here, but I'm just so dang giddy to finally get chapter two up! No idea when I'll have the next part finished (I'm still figuring out where I wanna go with this little story) but I hope you enjoy this next installment!

TW: mess, brief mention of gore and potential contagion towards the end

“Hhhh? Ehh- hHEH!...” 

Vox’s frantic inhales stalled on the apex and, once again, the urge to sneeze fizzled out into a frustrated - and frankly exhausted exhale. 

It had been like this ever since he’d first started sneezing. He’d repeated the action a few more times on his walk with Alastor, and each one had been as equally full-bodied as the one preceding it. His torso ached all over, especially his chest and neck, not to even mention how dizzy the intense outbursts left his head. Not long after the sixth sneeze did Vox begin to try and actually stop what felt like an inevitable reaction, which had worked… somewhat. He’d managed to swallow down the urge enough to stop himself from performing the act of sneezing, but he’d done absolute jack-shit to stop himself from hitching and gasping like a fish flopping atop a sun-bleached deck. 

And every time he raised a hand to scrub - fruitlessly, might he add -at the center of his screen, Alastor’s amused snicker would cause his muscles to tense. His companion had no qualms about enjoying his palpable misery - he was probably soaking up the waves radiating off of him. Actually, he had no doubt that that was exactly what Alastor was doing. It seemed that the more Vox sniffled, coughed and groaned from his malady, the more Alastor appeared to perk up. Fucking energy vampire. 

As if speaking of the devil, Alastor released an inquisitive hum. “My my - I’m surprised you haven’t asphyxiated from all that gasping! Such a shame.” 

Cyan-tipped claws rose to press along the front of his throat, which he cleared several times in the hopes that it would somehow clear away the gunk lining his throat. At least enough for him to speak clearly. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.” 

Vox immediately winced after finishing his retort, and he could have sworn even Alastor appeared a bit surprised. He hadn’t done much… or any talking after the ‘discovery’ of his illness had taken place. Which in itself was odd but Vox had been too preoccupied sneezing or gearing up to a sneeze, or trying to stop sneezing to act as much of a conversationalist. 

However, he slightly regretted speaking now: his voice was downright awful, a raspy quality and his consonants were heavily muddled with congestion. That he had expected, but what really reinforced his sorry state was how it sounded as though he was speaking through a faulty speaker. Or an old timey radio…

The thought brought a small bit of amusement, but it was dashed when he realized that even Alastor somehow managed to sound good through shitty audio. He just sounded… well, sick. And broken. Vox scowled ahead. 

He would have kept walking had Alastor not whipped the length of his cane in front of him, causing Vox to flinch. “What’re–

“Ah, here we are!”

Brows furrowed, Vox finally looked up at the building they had stopped in front of. It appeared to be a diner of sorts. It wasn’t really all that distinguishable from other places he’d seen in Hell, besides having a more dated feel than some of the other areas in Pride Ring. But they were on the outskirts, near Cannibal Town, and after learning how frequently Alastor visited that particular area, it didn’t surprise him when they would wind up somewhere in the vicinity. 

The building’s exterior showed a few signs of age - chipped paint here and there, but otherwise it just looked older versus not having been taken care of. The brickwork was still in fairly good condition, besides some moss growing along the left lower corner. There were two baskets of flora hanging on each side of the entrance/exit, but they appeared slightly wilted - from either lack of care or by design, Vox couldn’t be sure. It had a small awning just above the doors, with the name Devil’s Diner in a scrawl that Vox found a little… well not tacky but, just not one he would have chosen for an eatery.

It struck Vox as a decent place overall, just from a different time period. Well kept, while a little tattered in seemingly all the right places. Yeah, now it made sense why Alastor wanted to go here. 

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing. 

“... and I don’t say this lightly, but the bread pudding is absolutely to die for, hah hah– Vox?” 

The sound of something tapping rather firmly onto the floor finally brought Vox out of his lethargy, just in time to see Alastor returning his cane to where-the-fuck-ever in a puff of crimson smoke. He then proceeded to lean so far forward in his seat that Vox was surprised he managed to avoid falling onto the table between them. “Dear me, you truly are unwell, aren’t you?” Vox attempted to mirror Alastor’s smile, though it fell short of being a perfect copy by a mile. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug, nothing to worry about.” Though Alastor’s tone might have conveyed sympathetic to anyone else, Vox had a hunch it leaned more into the ‘Your misery is palpable and I’m loving every second of it’ territory. Actually, he was certain of it. Jesus Christ, had he really analyzed Alastor so much over their time together? Then again, it wasn’t as though he made it easy - it was that damned smile. 

It never left Alastor’s face, no matter what he was doing or saying, an unnerving fact he’d learned after watching him maim one soul so ignorant as to roughly shove past Alastor while muttering expletives under his breath. The same breath had soon begun begging for mercy before his guts were splayed all over the sidewalk. This had been early into their acquaintance-ship, and Vox still had shivers whenever they passed by the same spot. 

It wasn’t really the actual gore or violence, but the fact that Alastor had been grinning throughout the entire thing. As if he– no, he definitely did enjoy it. An “artform”, a term he’d heard the other use on more than one occasion. An artform. He’d never associated murder or even run-of-the-mill violence with “art”. Then again, there was nothing even remotely typical about the way Alastor operated. Not even a little. 

So occupied with his thoughts, he’d barely even noticed when their waiter arrived, giving a sharp start before attempting to appear more put-together than he felt. Alastor ordered first, thankfully; though the relief was short-lived, Alastor stated his choice as though he’d gotten the same combination hundreds of times. Which, in hindsight, was quite possibly the case. 

When the waiter - a one-eyed Hellian who resembled more of a blob than any even remotely human-form - turned to Vox, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken a glance at the menu. He felt so exhausted, and the mere thought of food had his stomach gurgling. Apparently his digestive system was protesting the questionable eggs and toast, and the idea of piling something from a place he’d never eaten from or heard of before on top of that was out of the question. 

Regardless, he ordered a simple burger and some fries, along with a soft drink. It had been the first thing that didn’t look complicated, and hopefully the bubbles from the drink would help settle his gut. Plus, he could manage to down a few bites of a burger, enough that he wouldn’t appear so unwell that his appetite was as shot as it genuinely was.

Wait- why did he care about how his plate looked? Was it the chance that Alastor would make yet another remark? ‘You’ve hardly touched your plate, dear!’ Oh, he could just hear it now. As if the knowledge that he was unwell didn’t already make Vox want to crawl out of his skin. He hated feeling weak, under any circumstances - but especially under the ones he had zero control over. 

And to have Alastor poking and prodding every time he so much as sniffled was beginning to grow a bit old. Fast. As if reading his thoughts, Alastor’s chipper-as-ever voice caught his attention once again. 

“Do you have a wire loose, or something to that effect? I dare-say I haven’t ever seen your antennae so active.” Alastor’s grin only widened when Vox grimaced. Shit. Catching his reflection in the window they were seated beside, he could see a rather intense surge of electricity crackling along and between his antennae. He took a deep breath - equally as crackling, and soaked with congestion - before half-coughing it out into his elbow. “It’s… nothing, just a glitch.” 

Damn it all, why did his body insist on betraying his fucking thoughts? Was nothing sacred? Oh wait, it wasn’t, as he often needed to remind himself. It’s Hell. 

So akin to a shark sensing blood in the water, Alastor pounced. “Certain of that, hm? Perhaps it’s a side effect - you are so ill, after all.” The emphasis on ‘so’ caused another surge of electricity, and Vox’s already taught spine felt a shudder travel down it from both frustration and… something else. Something vaguely familiar, irritating and– “I can assure you, Alastor, it’s just… jhhhust…?” Oh fuck, not again - not here, in this fucking ancient diner that was somehow PACKED as if to spite him. Alastor clocked onto Vox’s predicament rather quickly, as if bringing a fist to the middle of his screen wasn’t enough of a dead give-away. 

The sensation still grew, despite the fact that Vox could feel the intense pressure of his knuckles all but grinding against his screen. It was somehow fuzzing around every single inch of his head, and simultaneously completely out of reach to actually scratch. He sniffed, which sounded far more damp than Vox had been intending for it to, before attempting to speak again - only to have his breathing hijacked with a double-gasp. 

“It’s j-just… Ahh– hehh!”

“I do believe we got to that part, but I’m just itching to know the rest!” 

Mother of Fucking Christ, he was going to short-circuit on the spot. There was no point in trying to finish again, not with his systems so preoccupied. Fuck, fine, just get it over with. Vox eased the pressure on his screen, before relinquishing his fist to hang in the air before mouth, which was stuck gaping as he gasped again - then again, his body finally beginning to do what it needed to. “Ahhh’hah…! hehh’hih’EHhh–!!... hh… hhgh?” 

Vox’s lips formed an open-mouthed frown, his brow furrowed from more than just the prickling irritation. Which, while still prominent, seemed to stall just on the apex breath. Another sniffle, another bout of hitching that… also failed to result in a sneeze. Vox released an unsteady exhale that mingled with an exasperated groan. 

Seriously?! He was finally ready to sneeze, and his body decided to fucking bail on him? What the literal Hell?

It only occurred on another failed attempt at sneezing that Vox had technically brought this on himself. He’d been fighting the urge to sneeze ever since his initial outbursts. He was so hellbent on not sneezing due to the discomfort and, frankly embarrassment it caused that he’d put up a mental block around even the thought of it. And now that he actually wanted to, really, desperately needed to sneeze out the infernal itch, his body was simply listening to what he’d demanded from it earlier. He wasn't going to sneeze. 

He wanted to cry. 

As it was, he could feel saline welling in the corners of his eyes, which were swiped away with a vicious, frantic sniffle. Before Alastor could open his mouth, he gasped out an airy, “I’m fine!” which decidedly did not signify that he was anything even in the ball-park of being ‘fine’.

He heard Alastor chuckle, and was spared the ol’ reliable of his smile with his tearing eyes wrenched shut. But Vox could still feel it, in every single receptor and nerve, it seemed to dig right beneath his skin. 

“Oh yes, you’re the absolute epitome of ‘fine’. And ‘good health’ while we’re at it!” The only semblance of a response Vox could give was to cough in irritation; he was thoroughly occupied with the incompetence of his own body. And though it wasn’t obvious to him, Alastor’s patience had quickly reached it's limit. 

The Overlord rolled his eyes and, unbeknownst to Vox, opted to take matters into his own hands. 

Tear-soaked eyes had barely squinted open before Vox caught sight of Alastor's gloved hand in front of him, just a few inches shy of actually touching him but close enough to cause a start. The sensation stalled, but not for very long: a ripple of some kind of... energy traveled along the short space between them. And the irritating sensation seemed to double- no, triple in strength and intensity, and for a brief moment Vox thought he might be feeling something akin to pain. 

But no, it wasn’t quite pain. Just the overwhelming, agonizing, all-consuming urge finally, finally tipping over the edge–

“h’EAASCHHH!!!” The first of many, he reckoned, if the steadily rising pressure inside of his head was anything to go by. There was barely a gasp before his body truly let him have it.

“eh’AKK’TZZSCHH! heh’IZZSCH! EH’TZZT’HIEW! Eh’KZSCH! Eh’KZCH!...” 

On and on, rapid, intense sneezes tumbling out in a frenzied heap, one right on the heels of the other. Vox couldn’t ever recall having sneezed so much in his life. And apparently he was going for setting a record as far as his afterlife was concerned. 

“Hh–! EH’TZZT! H’uuhh’ohh f-fuck-” Though thoroughly unable to focus on anything other than sneezing the now worsened irritation - fucking Alastor - out of his system, Vox winced as he felt the collar of his turtleneck become decidedly… damp. 

His ports were- oh Satan’s balls, they were leaking?!

Hissing out another sneeze, a hand immediately flew to his mouth. Thus far the fit had been far too rapid, too intense for his conscious mind to think of covering. Not that the action did much, considering it was his ports leaking - though he could also detect a hint of salivation trailing from one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh for goodness sake.” he heard Alastor mutter. 

In the brief pause where Vox could only pant and anticipate the next flurry of sneezes, he winced as something smacked him in the face. Well, not so much ‘smacked’ as it was tossed, and upon feeling the silken material of the object, snatched at it and pressed it to the lower half of his face. 

“You look an absolute sight,” his companion began, with zero concealment of his disgust, “If you’re not even going to bother properly covering, you can at least–”

“eh’GXT’SCHHIEW!”

“Gesundheit. You can at least have the decency to–”

“hhH’ZZSSCHH! eh’KZZCHH’hue! Kff–!”

“Gesundheit. Mm, perhaps it would be wise to wait until you’re finished with this little display.” 

“hh’RR’ZZZSCHH!!!” 

Alastor’s ears twitched back in response to the rather harsh, static-charged sound. Even Vox's body winced in discomfort from the feedback. “Goodness. If you ever do finish, that is.” 

Sniffling pathetically, Vox managed to smother another trio of smaller, yet equally exhausted-sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. Or, was it a napkin? He couldn’t imagine Alastor sacrificing his napkin to serve as a snot-rag, so maybe he was just soiling his own. 

Whatever. At least it provided some kind of shield between this awful cold and everyone else. 

As if he truly gave a fuck if he was contagious. Though that did call to mind a question that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d even realized he was unwell:  Could he spread this to anyone else? More specifically - to Alastor?

It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. But, in theory, he supposed it would make sense: while Vox outwardly appeared to be mechanically comprised, and certain, obvious parts were, his body still housed organic parts. 

He’d found that out the hard way, once. It was still rather jarring to think about how he’d gaped in horror at his own intestines, but they pulsated and ached and appeared just like anyone else’s. He had a heartbeat, a brain that was… probably made of gray matter. Probably. 

And he was able to catch a cold. So it stood to reason that he could spread that cold to just about anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of a sneeze or cough. 

Including Alastor. 

Vox took his time in trying to make himself look at least semi-presentable again, mopping up his mouth and dabbing at his eyes before reluctantly moving to his neck. Though when he caught Alastor’s expectant expression, he sniffled thickly before speaking.

“Sndf! I… I think it’s over.” His weary gaze gave way to irritation, “You could have at least warned me before pulling a stunt like that, y’know.” 

Alastor appeared insulted, scoffing. “I suppose that’s the last time I lend you my generosity, then! It’s certainly not my fault that your system is so terribly faulty.” 

“I was perfectly fine before you decided to mess with me out of nowhere!”

“Oh yes, huffing and gasping as though you were in some amateur erotica - surely I should have let you continue on in all your obscenity! Ridiculous,” Alastor’s upper lip snagged in obvious disdain, a gloved finger gliding down his own neck, “You’re still leaking.” 

Vox’s fans kicked into overdrive. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”

[theminecraftbee]

an explosive repetition

this is a gift for @caracuuw for @mcytblrholidayexchange! please enjoy some time travel fwhimmy! this is crossposted to the ao3 collection here. i had fun writing it; happy holidays, and enjoy!

===

The embers of the campfire burn low during the yearly meeting of Emperors. People cheer to the newest of their number; the Codfather had been late, but he’d arrived, panting and covered in leaves and apologizing. They’d talked in quiet tones about things only people who were the emperors of their own nations could discuss, about the year to come, about the power afforded to them, and, while not about politics—the campfire meeting had never truly been for politics—they discussed what to expect from each other on an interpersonal level. Something changes in a person, when the life of a nation is tied to them. That’s what being an emperor means, even if these days only about half of them go by ‘emperor’ and only just about as many inherited their positions; even now, Fwhip remembers the day he was given the leadership title over his sister, and the way the sudden weight of the entire nation settled over his shoulders, and he knew what being an emperor was. 

He feels a bit like that now, actually, except also significantly more on fire.

Not literally. He is no longer literally on fire. But, like, it’s sort of hard to forget the feeling of being on fire, even briefly. It lingers under his skin. That hadn’t happened when he’d gone from Fwhip to Count Fwhip. If that had involved being set on fire he probably would have tried harder to refuse at the time instead of being all like ‘oh hey I am no longer the unwanted second son but a vital part of this nation’, because being on fire sucks, and he doesn’t recommend it to anyone.

Pretending he is not on fire also sucks. If it weren’t for the fact he looked across the campfire, saw Jimmy appear, and saw him shaking in a very particular way too, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hide how on-fire he was. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to navigate the conversations that are normally held at a campfire meeting. He’s pretty sure he barely navigated them as it was. He had been too busy giving Jimmy baffled looks at every free moment, trying to figure out why he was technically no longer literally on fire, and freaking out about how these were all the conversations he’d had last year, actually, and he sort of remembered them, and hey maybe he only has to pay half attention anyway because if they’re the same conversations as last year, there won’t be anything important for him to know, because he already knows it, and oh man what had he gotten himself into now, and—

The point is that during their secretive magic meeting and all that, Fwhip had mostly been on fire. Is he thinking straight? He’s not thinking straight.

He waits until basically everyone has left (Pixlriffs hasn’t yet, but the Copper King has a tendency to stick around at these things and Fwhip doesn’t think he’ll get rid of him) before rounding on Jimmy.

“You,” he says.

“Me? What do you mean me? This is your fault!” Jimmy says back.

“If you hadn’t had your stupid idea of making peace or whatever…”

“Oh, well excuse me, but it was your machine that blew up. I’m still on fire!” Jimmy pauses. “Metaphorically! I’m metaphorically on fire!”

“I mean, it’s not a metaphor when it feels a lot like actual fire, that’s not what a metaphor is I think?” Fwhip says.

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks.

“I mean, I think so?” Fwhip says.

They both pause for a moment to contemplate this. Jimmy shrugs. “That’s not important!” he decides at last. “The point is. You set us on fire! You blew us up! You blew us up so hard we time traveled!”

“And would that have happened if I’d just been using salmon power? No! No, it has to be your stupid cod that did it!” Fwhip says.

“Well I think it was your stupid face!” Jimmy says. Fwhip gasps.

“You take that back,” he says.

“Make me!” Fwhip says.

“Um,” Pixlriffs says, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. “You know, I’m just going to leave now. And leave you to… your time travel? No wonder I’ve had a headache for the past week.”

Fwhip and Jimmy stare at him.

“I’m very good at pretending I don’t know the future, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Pixlriffs says, and before Fwhip can interrogate him on that, he darts into the woods. It’s a little awkward, with none of the mysterious grace a statement like that should have, and all the gangly arms and legs the Copper King has had for ages. For a man with so much mystery around him, he’s always been a little too silly, a little too awkward, and a little too approachable. Fwhip’s always wondered if it’s a trap. Fwhip wonders if he’s actually going to not tell anyone. Fwhip… 

Fwhip turns back to Jimmy and discovers Jimmy staring after the Copper King, a wistful, fond, and exhausted expression on his face. It’s so out of place with the yelling, and the time travel, and with Fwhip’s knowledge that Jimmy’s the pettiest emperor on the entire continent. It makes Fwhip’s stomach hurt.

It’s quiet.

“Sorry,” Jimmy says. “Sorry. I haven’t seen him in a long time. He was never really the same after—I haven’t seen him in a while. I should go have tea with him. There’s a fancy word for that where he’s from but I never remember it. He’s always been nice about that.”

“Oh,” Fwhip says.

“He looks less tired,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, well you look kind of like shit,” Fwhip says.

Jimmy smiles, low and sad. “Yeah, well, you look even more—more bad. When did you last sleep?”

Fwhip doesn’t answer.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m supposed to be yelling at you about the time travel. Did you really blow us up so badly we went back in time?”

“Do you have a better answer?”

“I mean, I don’t know! I don’t want to be dead! I’m already on fire.”

Fwhip thinks of rumors about the Copper King and omens. He swallows. “Yeah, you know what, I’ll buy it’s time travel. Time travel! Back to the beginning of all of this! Just when things were finally starting to really work out for everyone!”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “Just when.”

They both sit down in front of the embers of the fire, almost at the same moment. It’s surprisingly cold now that the fire has mostly died. It shouldn’t be cold at the same time as being on fire, but maybe it’s the absence of any new fire to warm them with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’d been sitting, trying to have a conversation, getting used to the fire. He wouldn’t know. It seems distinctly like the kind of thing that Gem would know, except Gem has only just ascended to officially being Head Wizard, and she hadn’t had a war with a demon yet to really dig into the archives. She might not know. She might not tell him. He understands if she doesn’t. She’d always been the more responsible sibling in most ways that matter, and…

“Fuck,” Fwhip says. “Fuck, I blew us up and we’re back in time.”

“Stop swearing,” Jimmy says. “Besides, it was my fault, wasn’t it? Council told me not to do it and everything. I’m a failure like that.”

“Only one of us has got failure in the name, buddy.”

“Hah. Yeah, true, your parents suck.”

“It’s supposed to be for good luck. Shows what the Grimlands know.”

He shudders. He’s still on fire. He doesn’t know how to stop being on fire. He thinks maybe it’s all in his head, except for the fact Jimmy’s on fire too. It just—it had happened so fast. One moment, he and Jimmy had been shaking hands, and announcing they were burying the hatchet, and unveiling the salmon-cod reactor. It had been a good moment. Sure, there had been no way he and Jimmy would have stopped disagreeing, but they were committing to no more wars. To attempting to talk. To attempting peace. Fwhip hadn’t really wanted to hurt Jimmy for months anyway, and they’d both known it. Too many other things had happened, and even if the salmon and cod had stood between them before, the salmon-cod reactor would prove that with their powers together, they could be something more.

He’d turned to shake Jimmy’s hand one more time, the papers sign.

Then, the world had exploded.

It had hurt. He’s still on fire now, but it doesn’t hurt like that momentary flash of light, the twinned look of horror in Jimmy’s eyes, the realization something had gone horribly wrong, and then the world exploding around him. Someone had screamed; Fwhip still isn’t certain if that had been him. Fwhip had reached, a moment late, for the emergency stop. He’s not sure why, in hindsight. Some ingrained instinct to try to hit that button whenever something went wrong, maybe.

He’d been on fire. The world had been on fire. The earth had shaken. Jimmy had said something.

Then, the world exploded again, proving that instinct to hit the emergency stop a moment too late had been right after all, and Fwhip had woken up just outside of the campfire meeting. He went through it on autopilot.

“So, uh,” Jimmy starts. “We time traveled, huh?”

“We sure did,” agrees Fwhip.

“What do we do now? Because like, if we change stuff, do we vanish and die? I don’t want to vanish and die because I changed the time stream, man,” Jimmy says, wringing his hands nervously. His gills flare in and out on his neck.

“Pixlriffs literally already knows we time traveled.”

“And that was your fault, wasn’t it?”

“Mine? How was it my fault? You were arguing with me!”

“No, you were arguing with me!”

“Well, he’s your friend, so it’s your fault. I barely know the guy in this time.” Fwhip pauses. “I mean, I knew him later, when we were all sort of on the same side. He’s fun! Had some great ideas about how to handle corruption, liked explosions well enough, the whole works. But right now, he’s your friend, not mine.”

Jimmy pauses and frowns. “Oh, right. Hey, wait, that doesn’t make it my fault!”

“I think it does.”

“Look, I don’t know what to do with time travel either. Maybe Pixlriffs won’t say anything? I mean, he’ll tease us about it, but he doesn’t normally say anything about his whole… you know, right? It’s fine. It’s fine!”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe that won’t change much,” Fwhip concedes.

Finally, the burning is starting to fade as the sun sets. Fwhip realizes he doesn’t know what that means. Maybe, he thinks grimly, he’d been burning because he’d set the Grimlands ablaze, too, but there isn’t enough Grimlands left to burn. Maybe it’s just time, though. Maybe it’s nothing quite so terrible. Besides, it’s good, the not being on fire. Very good, that. He doesn’t want to be on fire. Being on fire is… bad.

Lots of things are bad, actually. Maybe he doesn’t feel like he’s burning because he’s no longer at risk of erasing himself from existence? Or, worse—because he already is being erased from existence.

“Gods, Jimmy, I might actually kill you for this one,” Fwhip says. “I’m at least going to do something you hate.”

“So, good news, you’re supposed to steal my music disc about now,” Jimmy says. 

“…really?”

“Did—did you not even remember that’s why this started?” Jimmy asks incredulously.

“I don’t know man, I don’t care about a stupid shitty music disc right now!”

“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe I was making peace with you. I can’t believe I was going to kiss you and everything. The nerve!”

“Listen, I thought it was a religious conflict! The cod and salmon thing! You know, inherent irreconcilable differences and all that!” Fwhip says defensively. He pauses. He goes back. “What was that last bit?”

“What, your nerve?”

“No, the part about—you were going to kiss me?”

Jimmy goes very, very still. “Ignore that,” Jimmy says. “Ignore it. Ignore it! It doesn’t matter right now. Besides, we’re enemies again now, right?”

“Right,” Fwhip says, feeling strangely disappointed. “I mean, I would have kissed you back. Even when we were enemies.”

“…really?” Jimmy says.

“I mean, yeah, I like people who might stab me,” Fwhip says.

“I don’t know how to take that,” Jimmy says. 

“Yeah, it’s a problem.”

“I can imagine.”

It’s awkward now. Now that Fwhip isn’t on fire, it’s—it’s awkward between them. Fwhip doesn’t know where he stands. He should probably mock Jimmy about having a crush, but it’s a little late to do that, on account of having admitted to having a crush himself. It feels like the kind of thing they should ignore at the moment, really, given that…

“Anyway, I guess I’m stealing a music disk and maybe your codfather hat?” Fwhip says.

“I’m going to have to act like killing the dragon is a good idea,” Jimmy says, vaguely sick-sounding.

“Relax, it’ll be fun for me to get to yell at you.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a while. The thing is, really, that Fwhip doesn’t want to die.

“I mean, it can’t be that much harder to do the same way a second time, right?” Jimmy says, trying to hype himself up. “I’ve already done it once! It’s like, I already know how to do all of this for sure! Yeah! It can’t—it can’t be that bad. Can I kiss you though? Since you know anyway. It won’t be changing anything, promise, I’ve just—since I was going to do it. To seal the alliance. Our secret alliance. Can we at least have one of those? So when—when it’s all my fault that a demon’s here and all—”

“That really wasn’t your fault,” Fwhip says. 

“Please?” Jimmy says.

Fwhip considers it. Fwhip shrugs. “Yeah. Secret alliance, until we get the real one in the end. Secret alliance to preserve the future.”

Jimmy sniffles. “Yeah, that.”

They both awkwardly lean in. Fwhip has never kissed Jimmy before; he’d always imagined it would taste kind of slimy. It doesn’t, although it does taste a little like fish, which makes Fwhip sort of want to laugh hysterically. Instead, he just pulls in deeper. Suddenly, they’re both kissing with the desperation of the two only people in the whole world; they might as well be. They’re the only ones who know. They’re the only ones who are here. They’re the only ones who are about to have to do—to do everything. A second time. Then, they’re kissing with tongue, and Fwhip nearly pushes Jimmy to the ground trying to press his entire body into Jimmy’s. One of them might be crying; it might even be Fwhip. He’s on fire again, he thinks. He’s not sure what to do. It’s all gone. It’s all gone. They’re starting over, hurtling towards a happy ending interrupted by the worst mistake imaginable, teetering on an edge with only each other, and they’d only just learned to stand next to each other without threats like a week ago. Fwhip doesn’t know what to do. Fwhip doesn’t know what to do. So he just keeps going, the two of them practically clawing at each other trying to dig into the skin of someone who at least is trapped with them, and—

Jimmy, suddenly, as though spooked, pushes Fwhip away. They stand there panting for a moment. Fwhip tries to bring his head back down to reality.

“Why do you have gunpowder on your mouth?” Jimmy asks, almost like he’s saying something else.

Fwhip really does get hysterical, then. “Oh, wow, okay, secret alliance. Okay, we’re doing this. Okay. Okay! You taste like fish.”

“I am a fish.”

“Not anymore!” Fwhip says, and he cackles. “You aren’t—you aren’t anymore, remember? You and Lizzie were all—cursed? Anti-cursed? Shit, do you even know you're siblings yet?”

“Oh, seas,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah. Yeah!” 

“I don’t—Fwhip, I don’t know if I can do this,” Jimmy says.

“Tough shit,” Fwhip says. “Because I can’t do it either.”

They stand there staring at each other for a while.

“But what happens if we screw it up?” Jimmy asks. “What happens if—even if changing it’s okay, until we blew ourselves up, it was—”

“It was good,” whispers Fwhip. “It was good. We were happy. It was okay. It was good.”

“What happens if we never get that back?”

Neither Fwhip nor Jimmy can answer it. They just keep standing there by the campfire, waiting for an answer that won’t come. Instead, the minutes keep slipping away, and the weight of everything that’s just been undone gets heavier, and heavier, and heavier, until Fwhip would prefer the fire.

“Okay,” Jimmy says. “Okay. I have—I still have a nation to run.”

“Yeah, so do—so do I. Here. A personal—this is a personal number. Only Gem has it. If you call using it—”

“Okay. Yeah. Secret alliance,” agrees Jimmy. “We kissed on it and everything, that makes it unbreakable, I think. I don’t know. I haven’t kissed many people. Does this make us—the only real couple I know is Joel and Lizzie, really, and I’m not sure we should model this off of Joel, as much as I love him.”

“Jimmy, if we make it to the end of this without going insane, I will propose to you, and we’ll have a wedding to make it official. We can upstage Joel and Lizzie and everything. I don’t care what’s actually a good idea,” Fwhip says.

“You wouldn’t,” Jimmy says.

“You’re one to talk,” Fwhip says.

“Thank you,” Jimmy says, and it’s the single most desperate thing Fwhip has ever heard the other emperor say. He never wants to hear it again.

“It’s—we’re in it together, man. I’m not that selfish,” Fwhip says. 

Jimmy rubs his eyes. “Good to know we’re both learning that about ourselves.”

“Can we stay here a little longer?” Fwhip says. “Just until the embers run out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says.

They do. They sit next to each other. At some point, Fwhip grabs Jimmy’s hand. He stares as the fire burns down. Neither of them say much else. He doesn’t know if that’s for the better or not. Maybe they should talk more. Maybe they should try to work out what they should do, or what a secret alliance even looks like. Maybe they should argue again, because that’s fun, but—

Fwhip doesn’t know. This works, at least.

They can figure it out tomorrow. Yeah. That seems like a decision that won’t have consequences at all.

“Hey, Jimmy—” he says, and then stops. “Never mind.”

“You’re weird,” Jimmy says. “I can’t believe I time traveled with you.”

“Ditto, man.”

They can figure it out tomorrow.

[corviiids]

THANKS @kimdokjafan you are so kind and generous. ok im cashing in the first of three blank checks to talk about faith trust and pixie dust (most recent chatfic) because the last two directors commentaries were too serious so let's do a silly one.

some p5r spoilers, and this is mostly about sumire, and it's long again. do i need to keep disclaiming that these are long? you should know me by now.

i had this written for a while before i started formatting it because i wasn't really sure if i should post it? i feel like silly chatfic is something people go to for predominantly lighthearted nonsense so i was like, maybe there's too much plot and dramatic misunderstanding and i should just keep this one for myself. but then i was like well nothing matters and maybe someone will have fun with it. it's kind of terrible how much fully or mostly completed fic there is my docs that just doesn't see the light of day lol. write for yourself etc but i like sharing! too bad it comes with the mortifying ordeal etc. anyway that was a tangent

potato counter is a neopets game. there's no deep lore i just like neopets. i guess in this universe ryuji doesn't play neopets? or maybe he's just never played potato counter specifically. i also have a different fic where ryuji DOES play neopets. it's about neopets and ryuji and goro talking on neopets.

i think this might literally be the first time ive written sumi in a fic because i haven't actually written that much fic for royal, like, now that im looking, literally almost none? and none that had a group dynamic. so it was kind of fun to find her voice for the first time in a silly groupchat like this. i was worried people would find her exclamation marks annoying but i personally thought it was endearing so i added it in there.

every time i do a gag where a character corrects their own typo i have to code more stupid little bubbles to make it happen but i think it's worth it. all the effort that goes into making tgis look as much like a real chat as possible

this obviously doesnt take place in the canon p5/r universe, but im imagining sort of a postcanon sumi personality where she's more comfortable being herself and isn't borrowing kasumi's brand of confidence, but she's visibly a really anxious person without that kasumi veneer. i also think in this universe sumire is a fairly recent addition to the friend group, and while everyone likes her a lot and she really likes them, i kind of wanted to emphasise that feeling of being in a friend group where everyone's established and you're sort of a plus-one? you don't really fit yet. part of that is her being new, part of it is her anxiety, part of it is just the kind of person sumi is where she's so polite and self-conscious she ends up taking herself out of things with her own good intentions. stuff like her interrupting the flow of an existing conversation by greeting everyone instead of jumping straight in because she doesn't feel comfortable inserting herself, which means everyone else stops to greet her even though that doesn't normally happen in a friend group, or making a point of thanking everyone for being invited to events while the others take it as a given.

idk i love that she feels a bit out of place with the phantom thieves in p5r. and part of that is a natural consequence of being a new addition in royal who can't be naturally integrated with an existing dynamic but i honestly feel like the writing team realised that and acknowledged it, and really leaned into it, and that made it work incredibly well for me. like, it's part of her character that she's sort of an outsider. it's not like p4g's incredibly clumsy integration of marie and subsequent attempt to shove her down everyone's throat as the canon love interest in p4ga (knife). sumi has that outsider vibe on purpose and it makes me really like her dynamic with the thieves as an individual

goro also feels slightly out of place in these chats, but his conversational style blends more naturally with the other thieves at this point and he even uses their codenames sometimes. i keep saying my chatfic series isn't a real Series because the lore keeps changing, but if we accept that they're all kind of following a General Continuity, assume this takes place some time after the last fic in which ren added goro to the groupchat and they made an effort to integrate him into their friend group. he's kind of there now and has settled into being the weird boyfriend. that's his role.

every time goro says something like "ren and i" assume it's the text equivalent of him talking to the group with his arm around ren's waist.

ok i got really fond of this silly running joke where sumi brings up the weather when she's feeling uncomfortable. she's so polite. i like this thread because setting it up meant i got to tie it off like this:

this just made me happy lol i liked writing this. i tried to use it to demonstrate that despite goro's abrasiveness he obviously knows sumire pretty well, he's attuned to her quirks and knows how to tell when she's having a bad time with her anxiety, so he uses her little weather habit to ground her.

i honestly dont think goro and sumire could be considered close in p5r and as much as i like the "royal trio" in canon they're not really... like... friends? with each other? they're both attached to ren, so it' more a V shape than anything else. but that said, i really LIKE goro and sumi's canon dynamic. he takes a really grouchy but politely attentive supervisory role to her during their few forays into the palace as a trio where he doesn't really know her well but clearly identifies her as a harmless little tryhard who needs some guidance and steps into that role grudgingly, and she immediately looks up to him despite being very wrong footed by his ruthlessness, which i find incredibly charming. i think given time they could be good friends, they just didn't get much chance to know each other very well in canon. so i tried to kinda do that here.

once goro stops being evil and joins the group they all kind of tiredly accept that his role is to occasionally push a cup off a bench while smirking and refuse to clean it up. emotionally, i mean.

wait i need to backtrack chronologically to talk about akeshu.

in this scene they're in the same room lol talking and snickering while typing. im trying to get at that vibe of the annoying couple who is flirting with each other, via you. you know? like ostensibly they're talking to you (sumire) but everything they say to you is part of their stupid game. sumi is incidental to goro and ren teasing each other about flirting with someone else, goro is reporting everything ren says because his boyfriend is so eye-rollingly foolish in a cute way. they're very tickled by how amusing and charming they are. gross. disgusting. sumire im so sorry for putting you through this

anyway here are too many of my favourite jokes from the fic

[meownotgood]

writing literally anything else vs trying to write dialogue

[aeb-art]

is this out of character? yeah a little, but i'm laughing so

finally got to draw @8um8le's mall toons again 🥺💕 i missed them so much

[horrorlesbians]

whatever.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Putting Aerin Back in Book 2 Mini Fics

I'm fascinated by the idea of Aerin not leaving, but not enough to transcribe and modify like 8 chapters. So here are some highlights of how I think it would go if Aerin had somehow decided to stick around. Including Nia yelling at his ass like she deserves!

All sections except for first two stand on their own pretty easily, so if you just want to skip ahead to a scene you're thinking about, I'm not gonna tell you no.

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

Chapter 9

Zaradun Prison Cell

You're still trying to find a way out of your incredibly unfair imprisonment when an unfamiliar voice speaks up in the dark. "You're not from around here, huh?" You peer through the dim lighting and find a young dwarven woman reclining on the floor of the cell across from yours. Her eyes glow like the woman in the market's, framing her confident smile. Aerin smirks at her. "Whatever gave us away?" The woman gives a daring smile back. "You develop a sense for these things. Gotta say, I didn't expect to have any company tonight. It's refreshing. I'm Cherta, by the way." "I'm Raine, and these are my friends Tyril, Nia, Mal, Imtura, and Aerin." You catch the way Aerin's head turns toward you, his eyes wide. But his expression is neutral again before you can comment and Cherta continues on. "Well, Raine and friends, what are you in for?"

Chapter 10

Zaradun Crypts

As you all make your way through a thankfully undead-free section of hallway, Aerin turns to you with a teasing smile. "It seems I skipped right past 'acquaintance.' Or was it simply becoming too much of a hassle to introduce me separately?" Despite his tone, you can tell there's a real question under there. (Friendly Route) You smile at him. "Why so surprised? You've kept not betraying us. And you always struck me as ambitious. I can't see you settling for less than 'friend.'" Aerin smirks. "Ah yes, the ambition that has served us all so well." "You won't settle when things could be better. That's a good thing. We're trying to save the world here, Aerin." His smile turns somewhat genuine at that as he looks away. "I suppose I can take your word for it. You have done quite well for yourself, after all." (Romance Route) You lean in, smiling seductively as you run a finger across his jaw. "I think we're well past 'acquaintances.' Give me another performance like you did at the festival and we'll see what other titles you can work your way up to." Aerin shivers slightly, looking at you hungrily despite the faint blush rising in his cheeks. "Well if that's all it takes… I do believe I have some rather good ideas for how to further impress our indominable leader, when next they have time for me." "I think I can spare a little time now." You lean forward eagerly and press your lips to his. Aerin tangles his hands in your hair as his tongue brushes into your mouth. But far too soon, he pulls away. You pout at him. "What, that's all I get?" "Raine, we are in the middle of a haunted crypt." You grin at him. "Such lofty standards, your highness." Aerin laughs fondly, shaking his head.

Zaradun

As the group discusses if you should let Cherta go off on her own, Aerin subtly motions you aside. You follow him a short distance away before he turns to you with concern. “Raine, this may not be a good idea.” "You don't think we can trust her?" "Whether she is being honest with us about her intentions may not matter." Aerin lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "It’s… Cherta is desperate and about to use a very powerful magical artifact. Surely you can understand why that might be a disastrous combination.” You nod slowly, thinking back to last year. "Maybe I should go with her." Aerin looks relieved. “That seems like a wise idea.”

Chapter 11

Zaradun Temple

Tyril hasn’t relented at all, still glaring furiously at the dwarven elder. "We have seen the corruption Shadow magic has caused, among the Shadow Court and those they influenced." You try to soften Tyril's approach a little, though it doesn't seem like that's going to work. "We were warned that Zaradun had fallen to the same corruption." Elder Radimir regards you calmly. "Were you now? Do I appear corrupted, child?" Nia speaks up next. "I don't sense anything wrong with him. To be honest, I haven't sensed any Shadow corruption since we got here." Tyril gestures angrily. "There are ways to hide it. We saw that much with Aerin." Aerin stands his ground, clearly suppressing frustration. "Have you considered that they may not be corrupted? That there is some possibility things are a bit more nuanced than you were taught?" Aerin's got a point. "You said Shadow corruption was reversible, right?" He nods at you with certainty. "It is." Tyril turns on Aerin, rage still plain on his face. "But you can't tell us how." Aerin takes a deep breath before meeting Tyril's gaze. "Knowing what happened and being able to convey it are different." Tyril snarls. "How convenient." Aerin looks away at that, something brittle in his gaze as he seems to struggle with himself. When he doesn’t respond, you jump in instead. "If Aerin’s not ready to talk about it, we have to respect that.” Tyril looks at you for a moment before turning back on the dwarven elder. "And what about siphoning the Light from the prisoners to power your city's torches? How can you defend that?"

Chapter 12

Shadow Realm

Now that Valax is restrained, your party turns its attention to Nia's Shadow form. Mal looks at her in shock. "What the hells happened to Nia?" Before you can speak, Tyril takes an angry step forward, his sword still drawn. "It seems the Dreadlord has possessed her again." Aerin stares at Nia in horror, his face pale. "No. No, the Dreadlord is dead. But she is-" Nia interrupts him. "At least one of you can think straight." Imtura raises her axes. "You won't take her from us. Not again!" Then she charges! You and Aerin both throw yourselves in front of Nia. "Wait, wait!" "Stop!" Tyril doesn't relent, his tone commanding. "Both of you, get out of the way. We must deal with this!" Aerin turns to him, hands still raised. "Tyril, I can't imagine my word means much to you, but I understand corruption and the Dreadlord's influence very well. Nia is corrupted but she is still on your side." You immediately back him up. "It's just some lingering magic left over from the Dreadlord. Being in the Shadow Realm triggers it. It's still her, I promise."

Ironbreach

As you look up from your task to see how everyone else is doing fixing up Ironbreach, you spot Aerin staring at Nia as she stands off to the side, arms crossed petulantly. After a long pause, Aerin strides over to get her attention. “Nia?” She turns sharply to look at him, like he interrupted her doing something terribly important. “What?” “I wish to speak with you. About your corruption.” Nia practically growls at him in response. “Are you finally going to admit it's your fault? That all of this is your fault? That you dragged me crying and begging to the damn Dreadlord until Raine had to kill me?!" Despite the fury and Shadow radiating off of Nia, Aerin doesn't look scared of her. Just... sad. "I'm sorry, Nia. For everything I did. You're right. All of this started with me. And I am doing everything in my power to fix it, but... I know it may never be enough." The Nia you know would reassure him. Genuinely comfort Aerin that the trying is what matters and he can choose to be different. But this... is not that Nia. She leans in, snarling up at him. "Do you know what it's like to die, Aerin?" He flinches at that, but she keeps going. "I couldn't stop you then. But because of what you did to me, I'm not vulnerable anymore. I am not the weak one. So if you try to hurt me or anyone else, ever again, I will end you." The Shadow around Nia twists and flares as she speaks, reaching menacingly toward Aerin. His eyes flash with fear for a moment, but he doesn't move away. "I understand. But you should know that when I say you have always been strong, I am not speaking metaphorically. Of your character or your heart. The Dreadlord did not want me to take you because you were kind or trusting or vulnerable. It was because you were one of the most powerful magic users he'd ever seen." Nia looks surprised by that, the Shadow retreating slightly as she tries to judge if Aerin is telling the truth. "...Really?" He looks back at her intensely. "Yes. He was frightened of what you'd be if he couldn't control you. Of what you could do with Shadow if you chose. Just..." Aerin's face falls, his posture resigned and vulnerable, like there's an invisible weight on him that he can never put down. "I know this is impossible to ask. But try not to lose control of yourself. Hold tightly to what it is you truly care about, because if you don't... Well, I would hate to see you in my position. You don't deserve that." Nia looks at him for a long moment. "I am not some selfish idiot who thinks he knows better than everyone else. I've trained to use magic my whole life. So stay out of my way." Then she walks off. Aerin sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks after her with concern for a moment before walking back toward Ironbreach's small garden.

Chapter 15

At Sea

Aerin is standing awkwardly near the back of the ship, like he can't shake the feeling he's in someone's way, when Nia approaches him pensively. “I want to apologize for what happened in the Shadow-” Aerin puts a hand up. “Nia, you really don’t have to. Certainly not to me.” She shakes her head. “I was cruel to you and you don't deserve that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things." Aerin gives her a searching look. "Really? You haven't been waiting over a year to say all that?" "I... No, I don't feel that way." Nia looks down. "Because nothing you said was wrong. I played a significant part in starting all of this. And you have suffered from my selfish mistake more than anyone else. You have every right to be angry with me." Nia's voice is small when she responds. "I hate how good it felt to be angry.” Aerin nods sympathetically. “I know.” “I’m sorry, Aerin. You tried to warn me but I lost control and people got hurt, just like you said." Aerin pauses to think for a moment. "You also bound Valax to Raine. If you hadn't..." A haunted look flashes across Aerin's face before he can return to his usual wry mask. "Well, I am certainly not a strong enough swimmer to think I could have done any good diving in after Raine during that storm." Nia nods slowly, conflict still clear on her face. Neither moves to speak again, the moment fading into almost comfortable silence. Then Nia brings her hand up toward a gash on Aerin's arm. "You don't have to-" She smiles slightly, Light glowing brilliantly at her fingertips. "I want to." "…Thank you." "You're welcome."

Chapter 17

Whitetower Palace

Allies recruited, you find yourself back in the palace with the rest of your party, meeting with King Arlan. After confirming that you will have the support of Whitetower's armies, he looks Aerin over coldly. "When you asked that I release the prisoner, I did not anticipate you would bring him back." He has a faint look of disgust. You look at the king in confusion. "Why wouldn't we bring him back?" The king's response is matter of fact. "Surely you've realized the reality of the situation by now. The boy is quite useless without his brother. I assumed he would be eaten by some wild creature within a day or two." The king sounds almost... disappointed that Aerin is still here. Mal snarls under his breath. "So much for the 'Gentle King.'" Annoyance or concern flickers across your friend’s faces. Except Aerin. He just looks directly at his father, a perfectly neutral expression on his face. When he speaks, his tone is unquestionably polite, but you can hear the sarcastic bite under the surface. "Indeed, however would I have survived this long without the support of my generous and loving family?" The king turns on Aerin with a slight grimace, but Nia jumps in smoothly with a distraction. "Your Majesty, you must warn your forces that the enemy will be using a lot of Shadow Magic. The Temple will heal all we can, but..."

Whitetower Encampment

A small campfire flickers just beyond the treeline, and you're shocked to find Aerin and Willow with only a few other goblins. "Willow, where is everyone else? Did something happen?" They look at you sadly. "A toxin poisons our roots. Sourceless. Unknown. Many wither, too weak for a journey." Aerin looks at you, somewhat exasperated, like he's been trying to solve a puzzle with a missing piece for days. "It doesn't make any sense. The Deadwood is far less habitable than the Whimsywood in general, but nothing else is affected. Their trees are fine, as are the remaining flora. The goblins are so heavily tied into their environment, I don't understand why they would be singled out." Willow looks at Aerin with a sad small smile before turning back to you. "It seeps deeper each day, even in those who have come. But you are friends of the forest. We shall stand beside you." You give the goblins what help you can before continuing. "Just try not to overexert yourselves. Once the battle is over, we can look into what's making you all sick. I'm sure Aerin can help." Willow smiles brightly at you. "The spring of your kindness still flows strong as a river, Raine. And yours, Aerin." But Aerin looks sad. "Of course, I would love to help. But... I do have something of a prior obligation." Right, he's technically your prisoner. But... "You know, I imagine the battle will be pretty chaotic. Maybe we'll just... lose track of you." Aerin looks at you in shock, like he's sure he misheard you. "What?" You look at him seriously. "Aerin. No one benefits from you being locked away. You can do a lot of good in the world. You just need a chance to do it." He scans your face intensely before a smile grows on his face. "I certainly hope so."

(Romance Route) As you walk back toward the tents, Aerin calls out to stop you. "Raine, wait a moment." He quickly catches up, before turning his serious gaze on you. "I want to thank you." You smile at him. "Aerin, not sending you back to a cell is really not that big of an ask. Especially considering that it might be the end of the world." He smiles back fondly. "I am grateful for that, but I meant something else. You changed me, Raine. You and your friends." His cheeks flush suddenly, and he looks at the ground. "I spent so much of my life chasing power, and all it ever brought me was pain and bitterness. I know I still have a lot of work to do to even try to make up for the wrong of my past, but... I have been thinking a great deal about... us." The way he says the word fills your chest with warmth. "Us?" Aerin finally meets your eyes again. "Yes. I know there are a thousand things that require your attention and it's selfish of me to ask for more of your time. But if you would like, when the camp is quiet... Come see me. Please." He looks at you with intense longing. Like part of him is certain you'll say no, but he desperately hopes you won't. You reach out, taking Aerin's hand with a smile. "For you... I'll make time."

[fluffclan]

Hello ppl! Sooo the next update is taking me rlly long to draw (there’s just a lot of dialogue and artblock has been killing mee), so I’m feeling like doing the six clangen cat drawing challenge to post on here while I get the next moon done :3

Pls send me all ur lil guys!!

[takadanobaba]

▽▲ Part two of the Subway to Stardew introduction events! ▲▽

You can see part one here!

Special thank you again to the wonderful @xdoctorsparklex for helping me work on making the submas Stardew Valley mod!! She wrote the script while I encoded it. (Also thank you for writing so much... you're the best!!)

I wonder who they're writing to.... the answer may shock you......

EDIT: Part three is here!

[lavampira]

Hello lovely! A question for your wonderful OC:

What’s a phrase they say a lot? Bonus: Did they pick it up from someone/somewhere else?

hi omg ty this is a very fun question!! 💚

one of the biggest things d’alia says - or rather, asks - a lot is “shall I leave you to it?” and it’s like her way of testing the space, because she isn’t that great with her words, and she doesn’t want to intrude, but she cares very much about people and wants to ease into whether her presence would make things more comfy or if they want to be left alone. and I like to think she got it from her parent, who adopted her as his own daughter when she was young since she was his (late) close friends’ child, which he always tried not to overstep with her feelings and boundaries. so. it carries with her even now

on the funnier side, she never used to curse very much, but she’s definitely picked up a regular use of “godsdamned” from sid, too

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[fragmentedblade]

Ratio isn't just socratic nor is his method just socratic. There's a lot of sophist too, with how he is paid and the Genius Society looks down on that.

[pixelsjoy]

Me playing Tears of the Kingdom: As much as I miss the champions, it makes sense they're not mentioned much. It's been a hundred years since they died. Even if they survived the Calamity, most of them would probably be dead at this point. The only exception being Mipha, who would have been the only one that would still be alive if she survived the calamity due to her age. The reason they're still remembered so much in Breath of the Wild is because the Divine Beasts, one of the last remaining connections to them, are still active and looming in Hyrule. Impa also said that their spirits feel uneasy knowing their task of defeating the Calamity wasn't done. They were at peace when the Calamity was defeated and passed on. They're not brought up from that point on because them and their era are over and can be laid to rest.

Also me playing Tears of the Kingdom: - holding back tears - Damn I miss the champions