#it also ended up being way longer than i'd intended

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

HEAR ME OUT— levi finally confessing his feelings for Y/N on new years

OMGGGGGGG THIS IS SO CUTE (this also ended up longer than i intended because i decided to add dialogue LMAO sorry)

i can imagine him doing it as a new year's resolution type of deal

like you'll be walking along the docks, with fireworks planned to go off across the bay. as you're watching the fireworks, he's intently watching you, his lips slightly parting as he appreciated the wonder in your eyes from watching the pretty colors, which were getting reflected off your face, painting your eyes with colors that made them seem to pop out even more to him than they already did

it's levi, so of course he'd be struggling even then over whether he should confess or not. i can see him maybe admitting it to himself a few weeks ago, but being unsure of when or how to tell you, or if he even should tell you. will it ruin your friendship? what if you didn't feel the same? what if he wasn't good enough for you?

but seeing you in those colorful lights, with nothing but innocent curiosity and awe in your eyes, gave him the resolve and desire to finally confess.

he'd be lost in you, and wouldn't even notice when you start trying to chat with him again after the fireworks show had ended and the new year had officially begun.

"what's your new years resolution?" you asked. "i'd probably say mine is trying to be cleaner at home, but i already know that's not gonna happen. you're probably going to have to come over to keep my shit together."

"you'd still be a shitshow even if you suddenly become a master at cleaning," he mentioned with a scoff.

"well?" you pressed with a head tilt, still prompting him to answer your question about his new year's resolution.

it took him a moment to respond.

"...probably be better at voicing how i feel without ignoring it."

"well, you never were good at words, were you?" you smirked as you casually teased him. "you just end up scowling at everyone, so people just think you're feeling grouchy all the time."

"and what about you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"what?"

"do you also think i'm nothing but grouchy?"

"hmm," you mumbled, thinking about what to say. "maybe 80% of the time. the other 20% seems to involve you being worried about something, usually if something wasn't clean enough or if you were going to run out of tea."

he snorted at your comment. you couldn't read the expression on his face, but it did seem like he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to formulate something to say. as you said, he was never good with words.

"well, let's start simple. what are you feeling right now?"

"...a little annoyed at how loud those damn fireworks were. a bit disappointed in how many drinks four-eyes had."

"well hange had been working their butt off trying to get their lab together after the holidays. they deserve to let a load off, even if that is being 5 shots in and playing dumb party games."

he averted his gaze as he tried to formulate his next words.

"...and probably confused," he whispered quietly.

"about?"

"there's this brat that's been pissing me off," he eventually said. "has been for a few years actually. and it pisses me off even more that part of me looks forward to it."

you raised an eyebrow at him. "you look forward to being pissed off?"

you saw him begin to shuffle around awkwardly.

"...only when it comes to them, i guess," he mumbled, still looking down towards the ground. "...kinda realized that i've grown quite fond of them, in a way as more than just friends, but that i've been too caught up in my head to really acknowledge it."

now you were the one frowning.

"levi ackerman actually having feelings for someone?"

there was a hint of astonishment and animosity in your voice as you turned to better face him, holding your hand against your waist in an almost accusatory fashion.

"who the hell is this mysterious person and why haven't i heard of them?"

he remained quiet for a moment before finally looking up, his intense, grey eyes looking directly into yours.

"you."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

if it’s not too much to ask (🥺) could you do a reader who’s best friends with Colin and he teases her about her crush on Jamie and tries to get them together? If not, NO WORRIES. Your stuff is so 🥰

(this ended up being a lot longer than I intended...whoops!)

You and Colin grew up together. You were two peas in a pod, the thickest of thieves. You knew everything about each other. You were the first person he told when he realized he was gay. He was the first person you told after you had your first kiss. You're each other's platonic soulmates.

As such, you're always trying to help each other in regards to your dating lives. When he told you about Michael, you were excited to see your best friend finally found his person. Michael was amazing and you two clicked instantly, to Colin's relief.

Your love life? Weeeell...

Colin and Michael were expecting you since twenty minutes prior, you texted them: THIS DATE SUCKS. IM COMING OVER.

So you're now sitting on Colin's couch in between the couple.

"So what happened this time?" Colin asks.

"All he talked about was football, specifically West Ham," that got Colin groaning, "He also looked my Instagram up and saw the pictures of you and I. Asked if we dated in the past, if you'd be able to get him tickets to the next Richmond versus West Ham game."

"You know you can archive the pictures of us so people-"

"No. I'd never do that to you, Col. It's like I'm ashamed of you and I'm not."

Colin gives a small smile and nod of appreciation, "Thanks, babe."

"Maybe you can set her up with one of your teammates," Michael suggests.

A lightbulb went off in Colin's head and you immediately said, "Don't."

"He's available."

"It'll be weird!"

"No, it won't!"

"Isn't he a dickhead?"

"Not as much anymore!"

Michael waved in front of you and Colin, "What's going on?"

You groan, hiding your face in your hands, "Kill me."

Colin snickers, "Y/N's celebrity crush before I got into the league was Jamie Tartt. When she found out he was being lent to Richmond, she freaked out. Made a complete fool of herself by tripping in front of him and getting a bloody nose."

"Ooohh. That's pretty bad." Michael says, wincing.

"It was so mortifying!" you cry out, "There's no way he'd want to date me after that disaster!"

"He might not even remember it," Colin says reassuringly.

"I don't want to risk it," you turn to Michael, "Michael, tell him it's a bad idea."

Michael looks to his boyfriend, "Do you vouch for Jamie?"

Colin nods, "I do, actually. He's completely turned his act around. He can still be a prick sometimes, but it's not as bad as it was when he first joined the team."

Michael focuses back on you, "You should go for it."

You immediately stand up, "Nope. I'm not making myself out to be a fool again. No thanks! I'm out!"

_____________________

"Hey, Jamie," Colin rushes up to Jamie as he exits his car.

Closing the door behind him, Jamie responds, "Yeah, mate?"

"You're not seeing anyone right?"

"No," Jamie replies with furrowed brows, look of confusion.

"My best friend, Y/N, she's beautiful, funny, and smart and think you and her would be a great match." Colin holds out his phone, showing Jamie a really great candid picture of you that he took when you two went to dinner months ago.

Jamie nods at the picture. You were, indeed, very beautiful. The way the sun hit your skin made you look angelic, "She's...nice."

Colin rolls his eyes, "One date. That's all I ask."

"Why me though?" Jamie still looks a bit confused, "Why not Bumbercatch or Isaac?"

"I just think you and Y/N would fit really well. She's been having a rough time with dating so I figured you'd show her how she should be treated."

To be fair, Jamie was thinking about getting back into the dating scene. He finally got over Keeley, accepting that they'd just be better off as friends. You seemed like a decent person, from the few things Colin mentioned. Might as well, right?

"Fuck it. Sure."

Colin fist bumped the air, "Yes! You won't regret it. I'll make the plans. You just show up."

"Yeah, yeah, alright."

_______________

You show up to Ola's, a place you've been to before. As soon as you walk in, Colin and Michael are there.

"I need to preface this and say you can't be mad at me," Colin says.

You narrow your eyes at him, "What did you do?"

"It'll be fine. I promise. Michael and I will be on the other side of the restaurant if you need anything, but you won't, because it'll be great."

"But if it goes wrong, it was definitely all his doing," Michael says, pointing to Colin.

Colin grimaces, "Thanks, babe." He takes your hand and leads you towards the back corner where Jamie fucking Tartt was sitting.

You immediately give Colin a look and he pushes you towards him, murmuring, "It'll be fine!"

You slowly approach the table and Jamie looks up, giving you a polite smile as he pockets his phone.

"Hi, I'm Jamie," he offers his hand out.

"I know," you say as you shake his hand, "I'm so sorry Colin roped you into this. You really don't have to be here if you don't want to."

He shrugs, "It's fine. Been meanin' to get back into the dating game. Besides, if things don't really work out, we get free dinner and drinks out of it, yeah?"

Your brows shot up, "Colin's paying?"

Jamie nods, "He said he would."

You smirk and gesturing for a server. He smiles at you, "Would you like to start with drinks?"

You nod, "Yes, we'll have your most expensive bottle please."

It's now Jamie's brows that shoot up and he looks at you in surprise. When the server leaves to get the drinks, you lean in and said, "It's payback," you sigh as you sit down.

"So...you weren't too keen on going on a date with me then?" he asks awkwardly.

You suddenly look mortified, "No, no! That's not it at all it's-I-ugh!" you slump back in your chair. You let out a deep breath and sit up again, "Alright, so I believe two years ago, you and I actually met before and I made a complete fool out of myself because I tripped and ate the pavement. I busted my lip, there was lots of blood. Not a pretty sight or a cool thing to do in front of your celebrity crush."

Jamie smirks, "I'm your celebrity crush?"

You sit there in silence, mentally cursing yourself and Colin for making you go through this embarrassment again. You stand, "Right, okay, I've embarrassed myself enough. I'm leaving."

Jamie rushes to a stand, "No, please, don't. I'm only teasin' ya. It's nothin' bad, I promise. You're-You're very cute when you're flustered."

"Thanks," you murmur.

Luckily, the server came back with the most expensive bottle of wine. As soon as he poured your glass, you began downing it. Jamie watches you in amusement.

"Sorry, I just need some liquid courage to get through this."

Jamie leans forward, resting his arms on the table, "How about this, we just forget who I am for tonight. I'm not Jamie Tartt, the most amazing striker in the league. Just Jamie, a nervous lad on a date with a beautiful girl."

"You're nervous?" you ask in shock.

He shrugs, "It's been a while since I've gone on a proper date. Kinda forgot how to do this sort of stuff."

"Pft, I've gone on many dates and so far, you're the best one."

"Yeah? Tell me about 'em."

And that's how dinner goes. Over another glass and eventually over some food, you tell Jamie about your past dates. He tells you about some ridiculous things he's done with the guys when Coach Lasso was around. It was nice. It was nice knowing that Jamie wasn't here because he wanted to get close to Colin. He was there because he wanted to. You assumed he was interested in you by the way he flirted with you throughout the nice. So maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Once dinner was over, Colin came over with a pout, "Did you guys really have to order the most expensive items here?!"

"That's what you get for tricking me like that," you boop his nose and Michael snickers as he weaves his fingers through Colin's.

"But it went alright, yeah?" he looks at you and Jamie.

"I'd say so," Jame puts his hand on your lower back, "We're, uh, actually gonna head to a pub for more drinks."

"Oh! Well, uh, I think Michael and I will head on home then."

You don't want to give Colin the satisfaction just yet, so you say, "I'll text you later when I'm home."

"Sounds good," he says and pulls at Michael's hand, "Let's go, babe."

Looking over his shoulder, Michael gives you a wink and a thumbs up.

You snort and then turn to Jamie, "Ready?"

"Whenever you are, love." and you two head out onto more drinks, more talking, and, hopefully, more dates after this.

[eveningrainstorm]

my take on teenage raz and lili!

some design notes under the cut:

They're intended to be about 16 here! I didn't go for anything too drastic in terms of changes -- these are largely just what I'd consider natural evolutions of their canon designs

For Raz, my main focus besides just making him look older was to add a bit more resemblance to the other Aquatos in his design, since his relationship with them wouldn't be strained like it is during canon

Raz is shown with very straight hair in canon, but since most of his family's hair is more wavy or curly I tend to imagine he styles it that way on purpose as part of his Sasha Nein cosplay or whatever. He wouldn't still feel the need to do that at this point, though, so for this design I wanted to make it more curly, similar to Augustus or Frazie, while still similar to his canon style. This turned out to be incredibly difficult and I'm still not entirely happy with where I landed, but it's good enough

I didn't think he would still wear the helmet but I didn't want to discard it entirely, so the goggles were a compromise. I meant to give them some visible scratches and wear and tear since they're presumably the same goggles he's been wearing since he was 10, but I forgot. rip

Obviously the most notable change to Raz's outfit is the scarf -- I wanted something that would tie him visually to the other Aquatos while still fitting with his general look. I imagine they gave it to him as a gift, sort of an acknowledgement that even if he doesn't perform with them as an acrobat, doing his Psychonaut work is his own way of being an Aquato

Raz's outfit here is honestly very similar to his PN2 outfit. This is because in my eyes "long coat and turtleneck" is Peak Character Design and cannot be improved on. (Hence why I may not be the best person to redesign Raz.) He has an actual coat rather than just an oversized blazer this time though, so that's an improvement. With the turtleneck I was was vaguely intending for it to be color-wise something of a middle ground between the Sasha-style green striped turtleneck and the Aquato blue/green and white stripes, but it ended up basically just being the PN1 stripes with the PN2 color. which, you know, that works

I went back and forth on what their heights should be -- I thought it would be kind of funny if Raz ended up short and Lili ended up taller than him, but then I decided to just make them more in line with their families, with Raz being tall and lanky and Lili being average verging on short. Except then I accidentally made Lili tall anyway because I was only vaguely considering her height relative to Raz. I guess Lili's probably taller than her dad now? good for her ig

Most of their facial features are just slight variations of how they look in canon -- slightly smaller eyes and so on. the only real specific change is that Lili has a more defined nose now, similar in shape to her father's

Lili's outfit here is more different from either of her canon outfits than Raz's is, but there's still not much that really requires a ton of explanation. The goal was to make her look vaguely cool and fashionable, although as I am neither of those things I cannot guarantee I was successful

I tried a couple different hairstyles for Lili, and I'm still not entirely set on this one -- Originally what I settled on was to give her two braids, which I did like, but I kept doing sketches of her where I just drew the top part of the hair and was like "ngl this kind of works on its own" and so I ended up going with the short hair. I also briefly tried an asymmetrical haircut but I couldn't get it to look right. I think this one suits her though

Lili's tattoo (on her left wrist) was a later addition to the design, and even in the later stages of drawing this I wasn't sure whether to keep it. I like it conceptually I just haven't figured out a consistent design for it yet, only that it has to be of plants

god these notes got way longer than I meant them to be I am so sorry. Uh basically I'm still figuring out the details of these designs but for now here's Raz and Lili, they're teenagers now, thanks for reading

[yarrystyleeza]

Congratulations on the milestone, friend!!! 🎉🎉 I’m so excited for you! 💖

So for your sleepover event I’d like to send in a request for someone that is probably NOT expected from me. Can I please get some fluff for one of my other absolute loves Daryl Dixon? Maybe something fluffy about being unable to fall asleep? Possibly something with a love confession? Whatever feels right for you I'd be excited to read! I miss my crossbow wielding love 😭❤

Thank you so much, Bella! This was definitely a milestone, and it wouldn't have been possible without you, thank you again! 🥰💞

And as for the request, I had such a fun time writing it, I missed Daryl so much and your request brought back so many memories 🥺💞💞💞

Night Birds (D.D)

Requested by @bellaxgiornata

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female!reader — friends to lovers

Prompt: fluff, one bed trope, unable to fall asleep, love confession

Word count: 2.2k!

Writer's note: this took me a while to write, not just because I haven't written anything for Daryl in more than 3 years, but the story building wasn't easy, and I just hope it's enjoyable and fun. Also, this lil fic is heavily inspired by Panic! At The Disco's out of the Vault "night birds", unfortunately it was taken down from YouTube due to copyright issues but here's a snippet of it on twt

"shit." you muttered under your breath, looking at the one bed at the end of the cabin, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose. You and Daryl left Alexandria and went scavenging this morning, but your journey took way longer than expected and it was dangerous for you to take the road back home in this wintery night.

You twisted your lips in a thoughtful pout, Daryl soon notices that after he had locked the cabin door. "what?" he narrows his blue eyes as he asks, "it's a..." you gesture in the direction of the bed, "oh." he commented..

The two of you stood in place—silently for a full minute before Daryl makes a suggestion. "I can sleep on the floor--" immediately, you shook your head in disapproval, "no, Daryl, it's too cold and you might get sick," you fired back, "but I don' think that thin' can hold us up together, y'know," Daryl objected, "a bed is still a bed, even though it looks old, and rusty, and small... and a little crooked..." you gesture at the odd position the bed was in, tilting your head to try to find any correct angle in this bed.

Daryl stood silent for a moment to recollect his thoughts and you eyed him patiently, he eyed you a little before speaking, you cross your arms, pout your lips and knit your brows, waiting for him to drop the bomb of a thought because you knew what he's about to say now.

"there's another cabin down the road, 15 minute walk from here..." you rolled your eyes with a very loud objective groan, uncrossing your arms, "of course no, Daryl," he mirrored your eye roll, "don't even ask why, you know why, we need to always stick together, like— how am I supposed to make sure you're okay?" you interrupted before he could defend his suggestion, "we have our walkie-talkies--" he shrugged, "we don't," you whispered and he grimaced immediately, "what d'ya mean?" his brows got knitted, you smiled your teeth out.

"I thought it was a quick trip so I thought we didn't really need them..." you twisted your fingers as you answered with a low voice.

You lied about that, you actually brought the devices and you hid them in your backpack, you just wanted him to stay with you.

You've known Daryl for a really long time, you met back at Hershel's farm. You were a lone survivor and you happen to stumble upon Daryl in the woods. You needed a shelter and Hershel's family home provided this for you and in exchange, you helped them on their search for Sophia. Unfortunately it didn't go as intended, and everyone had to face the ugly truth about her death.

But during the search—Daryl accidentally got shot by Andrea and you offered to stay and take care of him—since everyone else was busy; and you found peace in his presence. That was the day you became true friends, inseparable friends.

Wherever Daryl was, you were with him. You were always together on missions, and whenever Rick talked about a scavenging mission you were the first one signing up the moment you know Daryl was on it too. You couldn't truly connect with other members in the group, you were shy and had troubles bonding with a big group of people, but you were always nice to them.

But, Daryl holds a special place in your heart, and you could never deny that. You were two lone wolves who found a little peace of mind together.

Now, you can see how frustrated he is, the look of both anger and worry are soaking his gentle features. "I'm sorry, Daryl," you muttered softly between your teeth, he shrugged, "forget 'bout it, pet."

You took your backpack off your shoulder and placed it by the end of the bed, you kicked your shoes off and slipped out of your heavy winter jacket. You fluff your hair and gently you lie down the mattress and your body sinks in. You were exhausted.

You watch Daryl as he makes his way to the bed, his expression is a little unsure of his actions and it was confusing, you rarely saw that face of him, he's nervous, silent and red. Daryl slowly sits on the edge of the bed, he lies down on your left side and you feel how timid he is.

"goodnight, Daryl," you lie on your back and you fix your eyes on the ceiling, he shifts a little, mirroring your pose but his hands are behind his head, his leather covered elbow brushes your cheek softly. "goodnight, pet," Daryl gently replies.

And you stay like that for hours, both facing the ceiling, you start counting the cracks in the wooden surfaces and they're twenty one, you want to pull your eyes out of their sockets to force yourself to sleep but you can't, the clock hanging on the wall had long died, you feel like a nocturnal animal who's unable to close its eyes but feeling drunk and paralyzed, you're too aware of how loud your heart is pumping tonight, you can feel every particle of dust falling onto your skin, and your breathing is so audible that you feel it ringing in your ears, it's uncomfortable and overwhelming.

Your eyes glance to the side and you notice how silent Daryl is, but he wasn't asleep either. "you can't sleep, right?" you mumble, your eyes are back on the ceiling, recounting the clefts, did their number increase?

"nah, and I guess you aren'..." he replies with the same calm tone, still looking up. "do you remember that night—back at Hershel's farm when neither of us was able to fall asleep?" you try to remind him.

The night Daryl got shot, you drank a huge amount of coffee in order to stay awake and take care of him, it was a terrible decision, because you spent the night and the next morning—shaking in weakness. And Daryl was in so much pain he couldn't close his eyes either but kept lying to you—telling you it feels more like a scratch. You kept hearing him groaning quietly and you kept petting his head to try and make his focus shift to the movement of your fingers in his hair. It was a very exhausting night but you woke up collapsed over Daryl as you had sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"I get the same vibes here," your heart beats faster, you have no idea why you're nervous but you are. "us getting stuck together and having to deal with each other," you chuckle a little as you recall the events, "you were so pissed about me following you everywhere but then you got shot and I had to stay the night and take care of you," you keep on talking, almost feeling like you're talking to yourself. Daryl was silent, it was a little heartbreaking that he had no reaction to it.

"jeez, sorry for giving you a headache--" you sigh, tears almost stray out of your heavy eyelids, "at all, pet, I love listening to ya talkin' bout anythin'," he cuts you off, you feel his weight shifting next to you, you glance to the side and you see his blue eyes shining back at you in the dim light.

"I thought you were annoying at first but, I can't lie to ya, turns out you never were, pet," you giggle at his affirmation, "maybe because I'm a little too loud to you," you admit, your energies might have never matched but you still found harmony within it.

You remember the day you got kidnapped by Merle back at Woodbury, Daryl came over with the group to rescue you, Maggie, and Glenn. You were never able to remember anything about that event, never recalled how many hours or days you were gone but there was only one thing you remember for sure, Daryl ran up to you the moment he saw you and hugged you tight—almost crushing you in his arms. Something in you changed and you felt attracted and more attached to him. The worry in his blue orbs, and his tight hug still burns your skin.

Then the day everything fell apart and you had to flee the prison. You were introduced to the overprotective side of Daryl, he never left your side since then, and you always found yourself safe in his presence.

You never wanted to be away from him, and you hated the fact that you got separated when you first arrived to Alexandria, you were so mad that you picked up a fight with him intentionally so he could spend more time talking to you. You felt torn apart whenever he had to leave for a scavenging mission without you, and you couldn't stand any lady trying to hit on him.

The realization hits you hard... You've been in love with Daryl for longer than you can imagine.

"you look tired, pet, you need t' sleep," you almost chuckle at his words, "wish I could but I can't," you mumble. He half sits on the bed, "c'mere, pet," you look up at him, his arms are open wide for you, your heart twists in your chest as you try to make up your mind. You give up and place your head over his chest, his heart pumping next to your ear, his fingers delicately slip through your hair and he gently moves his tips on your scalp in circular motions, your eyes flutter shut and you snuggle your face into him.

His movement misses around with your heartbeat, poor little thing is thundering in your chest. You truly can't live without him.

"I care so much 'bout you, pet," your heart dropped, could this mean that you weren't the only one feeling it? You weren't so sure about it yet, but you decided you should let him finish his words.

But then his hand travels down, leaving your hair, his palm cups your cheek and his thumb fondles your blushed skin. "I care— so much 'boucha that I never think of anythin' else except for ya," you shift your head to look up at him and you find him staring back down at you.

You couldn't help but lift your head off his chest to sit straight and look directly at him in disbelief, he's astonished by your reaction and you see him lowering his eyes to his now tangled fingers. "I shouldn't 've talked about it, 'm sorry," he mumbles and you shift closer to him.

You don't quite know how you did it, but you aimed a kiss to his lips and he is taken by surprise. The very first time you've ever put your lips on him feels so unique, but you're to scared to indulge in the feeling. You part away from him, his face is unreadable, he turned pale white. Realizing what you just did. Did he actually feel anything for you? Does he even like you back? Was this the right thing to do? Or did you misunderstood the whole situation? You had no answers for those questions.

You're overthinking it a lot that you don't notice him moving closer to you, cupping your cheeks and drawing you into a kiss. Your shoulders fall and your hands envelope the back of his neck, gently tugging onto his long locks. His hands round your waist and you could feel the smile on his lips, he draws you over to his lap and he hugs you tight as the kiss continues.

He kisses you sweetly, and you only melt more into him, fumbling his face with the tips of your fingers, feeling the soft stubble on his cheeks. His hands go back over your cheeks and he's softly caressing them, tucking your hair behind your ears and you feel his lips stretching once again.

Daryl slowly pulls away from you, he's shy, he's nervous, he's flustered, and surely he's shaking but his smile is so big that you could barely see his ocean blue eyes. "so sorry I didn't mean to scare you, I was just—" you say and he giggles at you, "gosh, I love you, Daryl," you chuckle, the small of your hands are still enveloping his cheeks, "I love you too, pet, always did," Daryl slowly pulls you back into another kiss, you both smile as you sip on the uniquely sweet flavor you two created.

"think you can get some sleep now, angel?" Daryl murmured while your lips are still locked upon each other, you nodded with a slight chuckle, "alright, lemme tuck you in, lil' one," you slip from over his lap and he shuffles back to his place, taking you in his arms and resting your head onto his chest, playfully messing with your hair, you round his waist with your leg and snuggle into his chest, he keeps peppering your temple with little pecks until you both fell asleep.

Daryl wakes up early and he gently pulls himself from under you—in fear of disturbing your deep sleep, he gets up and makes his way to the little dining table where he had placed his bag, he scavenges through it for food but he finds nothing.

Daryl tries his luck with your backpack and searches through it, and that's where he finds the walkie-talkies you hid all day long... And you had witnessed his finding yourself.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

[sleepy-gee]

corruption/innocence kink sejanus x innocent/virgin coriolanus. send tweet.

mhm. yup yup totally.. 🤭🤭🤭

(this ended up being way longer than i intended it to be sorry)

coriolanus never having the time for any sort of relationship because of school and also just a genuine lack of interest in them.. until he met sejanus, who's been around the block a few times iykwim

the two are at sej's house for some assignment or whatever and they get to talking,, and they're teenage boys of course sex is gonna come up. maybe they're a little tipsy on posca too just for shits and giggles.

"have you ever.. y'know?" coriolanus asked, taking another swig of posca. my man cannot handle his alcohol in the slightest.

sejanus nodded. "three or.. four times.. i dunno.. twice with a girl and.. then there was this one guy.. what about you?"

coriolanus shook his head no. "not really my thing.."

"why not?" sejanus took the bottle from him.

the blond shrugged. "just another form of vulnerability.. i don't see the point in it either.."

".. it's different when it's with someone you care about, y’know? you're.. becoming one or whatever the fuck people say nowadays.." he giggled. "media hypes it up a lot.."

".. maybe. but who in their right mind would want to take me to bed?"

".. i wouldn't totally mind."

coriolanus choked on his own spit. ".. you're drunk."

"drunk words are sober thoughts, coryo. i'd just be helping you out.."

on any other occasion, coriolanus would've used his head and said no. got up and left. but right now? his head isn't what he's thinking with. ".. but i've never even.. it would be bad."

"so? i'll show you the ropes, coryo. you won't have to do anything you don't want to do.. i'll take care of you." sejanus set the bottle down on his nightstand. that final phrase made his cock twitch in his trousers.

coriolanus pondered quietly for a moment. ".. i guess.." the words rolled off his tongue without his consent. the blond turned to sejanus, cock twitching again when they made eye contact. ".. so, uhm.. how do we–" he was cut off by sejanus' lips crashing into his own. coriolanus made a startled groan, eyelids falling shut as he melted into it.

sejanus' hands were quick and rough, making quick work of their academy uniforms. his speed had to be due to the alcohol, right? he hadn't even registered fully what was happening when sejanus had him pinned down against his silk sheets, holding his waist in a grip so tight it'd surely bruise.

his heart fluttered at the thought of it.

"you're so cute, you know that?" the brunette taunted as he sat back on his heels, pulling off his belt. "who knew coriolanus snow had a soft side after all.."

"shut up."

"why don't you make me, pretty boy?"

coriolanus bit his tongue. damn, he was good. why hasn't they done this early? he opened his mouth to reply but instantly lost his train of thought once his best friend pulled his cock out of his pants. he watched in awe as the boy leisurely stroked himself.

sejanus caught his gaze with a wicked grin. "c'mon.. don't be shy now. show me what you got... unless you haven't even touched yourself, too?"

"i have." coriolanus grumbled, acting like jerking off his friend was a chore. could he even still call him a friend? friends didn't do this. slowly, coriolanus' hand took the place of sejanus'.

how the fuck is that going to fit in me? he stroked him like he would himself, trying to follow his body language and use it as a cue.

"c'mon, coryo.. what did i say? don't be so shy... pull down your pants for me, i'll show you how it's done."

the added 'for me' sent a pleasant wave of heat through his stomach. he complied, pulling down his red academy pants and issued underwear.. but sejanus didn't stop there. "y'know what? just strip for me."

he was a lot quicker this time getting himself undressed. sejanus licked his lips, eyeing him carefully before pulling off his own shirt. "god. you're fucking beautiful."

"whatever.. just.. show me how it's done."

"oh, is someone getting impatient now?" sejanus didn't hesitate, grabbing the other's cock and pumping it like he had done on himself. coriolanus couldn't bite back his moans, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. christ. sejanus' hands were perfect for this. big and warm..

"nah ah. let me hear you, coryo. let me hear how good i'm making you feel." those words were enough to make him moan again. coriolanus moved his head slightly, uncovering his mouth but still hiding his face. his hips fucked into sejanus' tight fist, body moving on autopilot.

"close already? my god, coryo.. i've barely even touched you.." the tone of his voice was so bittersweet.. tantalizing almost. he was being mocked. and he fucking loved it.

"i– i know.." he gasped. "but.. your hand, mmh–"

"what about it, huh?"

"it– it feels good.."

"yeah? good?" sejanus kissed him on the cheek. "look at you. god. you can't even get yourself off properly.."

"keep talking like that and so help me–" coriolanus couldn't even finish his sentence, voice broken up by a gasp as he painted the others fist white. he slouched back with a sigh, trembling.

"well.. that was.. certainly something.."

"was? oh, baby. i'm not done with you yet."

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dying Light [Chapter One] Choking [Bi-Han/Sub-Zero]

A/n: this first chapter took a bit longer than intended. I'd like to thank those who voted, regarding the reader's magic. Thank you so much. Also, I added some aspects from previous games to fill out the plot for the first half a little. Please enjoy.

Tag List: @genesiswrld

Warning(s): arranged marriage au, female reader, cliches, fighting, blood, magic, and family drama.

No Minors Allowed!!

In your youth, new to the ways of the world, you were told about your inescapable fate; that when your clan began its new era, you alone would be the key to its tomorrow. 

The clan was dying off, a has-been of the past. It could not survive another century of change in a world that had no use for it or its teachings. There was no way to preserve them. To keep its lineage from fading into history, your family had no choice but to unite with another clan. 

This was where you would come in.  

When the time was right, you would be wedded to a clan head, and your clan, its strongest and most capable fighters, would merge with them, starting anew. However, this foretold life did not sit well with you. It was not fair. 

For years, you trained with a Grandmaster of martial arts, and then with your father’s consent you were given the Amulet of Damashi, an ancient heirloom passed down through your clan; one capable of substantial magic, enough so that you hoped to call off the merger. Yet, your longings and sacrifices were not enough.   

Your fate was set in stone. But still, you did all you could to draw attention to your clan, and for another year, all was well. 

Until one autumn afternoon. 

Sitting on a balcony at the far end of the main house, you occupy your time with a humorously erotic book brought from the city; it is cliche but you can not seem to put it down. 

As you are lost in the plot, a retainer wearing the clan’s insignia suddenly approaches you from the doorway and bows in respect. 

“Forgive my intrusion, honorable–”

You raise your hand and interrupt him; his immediate silence makes you hum in thanks. Whatever he has to say does not interest you, but you know that he is simply doing as someone ordered him to. Even so, you dislike being called away from your alone time. You continue to read in silence until you reach the end of the page, then you avert your eyes to him.

“It's unsettling when stories are left on cliffhangers,” you state. Resting the book in your lap, you motion for him to continue.  

 

The man bows again. 

“The Master sent me to retrieve you.”

You hum. 

“What reason does he need me for?”

If it is not urgent then he can wait until you have had your lesson with your master for the day. 

The retainer rests his arms at his sides and leans up.  

“To greet the honored guest who is waiting within the front courtyard. He came from Arctika to see you.” 

Honored guest. From the tundra region. 

Your eyes widen in realization. It can not be. 

Father brought him here.  

With a frustrated groan, you stand and rush past the retainer and through the main house to the inner courtyard.

I should have known. 

The servants had cleaned and prepared the main house the night before but you ignored the action, thinking your mother was just being choosy again. You had no idea that your parents were keeping secrets from you.

You manage to squeeze through the throng of clansmen in the inner courtyard until you are at the front, and then you rush to stand beside your father, giving him a heated look.   

“It is nice of you to join us,” he says with a serious tone. Taking the book from your hand, he grimaces at the title and hands it to your mother, who is beside him. 

“You gave me no other option,” you retort. 

Your mother sighs. 

“Had we, you would have found a way to vanish before your fiance arrived. It was the lesser of two evils, dear. Understand this.” 

You do, but it does not make it right.

I've never even seen him before.

“Send him away,” you implore. “We do not need to–”

“Your opinion is unneeded,” your father sneers. He gives you a look that warns you to keep your mouth shut.

An air of gloom and disappointment surrounds you. After what you have done, he and your mother do not seem to appreciate it. You take an uneasy breath and clutch the white and gold amulet attached to your side. Did achieving this mean nothing? 

It certainly feels so. Even after making an effort to master it, they pushed this merge in secret. 

Who is he? Your parents certainly trust in him. You want to know. 

Under your father’s orders, the guards open the doors to the southeastern entrance, and inside walks a group of what appears to you to be assassins dressed in similar attire, sporting a color scheme of blue and black. Some of them wear hoods over their heads, while all of them have their mouths covered, as well as the man in the lead.  

He must be their clan head.  

My fiance.

He is certainly handsome, with defined well-built curves and muscles that strain against the thin fabric of his twilight blue tabard. Even so, there is an air of bitterness that surrounds him as he measures your clan.

You share his sentiments. 

Watching your father bow, you quickly do the same. 

“It is an honor to have you grace us with your presence, Bi-Han of the Lin Kuei,” your father states. 

Bi-Han follows suit.

“It was the former Grandmaster - my father - who had hoped to see this merge.” He pauses to stand. “If your clan is as strong as promised, then I too share his sentiments.”

His tone is deep and high-handed, not promising in your opinion. While a part of you is thankful to him for taking in the clan, the other part is irritated that this is a recruitment visit. 

I am merely the weight that comes with the contract, nothing more.

“I too have been eager for this day. It is a shame, however, that your father passed on before his time. He was a respected man.”

Bi-Han knits his brows. 

“The Lin Kuei are in capable hands.”

No one said otherwise. 

You sigh in dread. 

“Yes…well, allow me to introduce my family,” Your father awkwardly states. He motions to your mother first, then to you. “My wife and my daughter, your bride-to-be.” 

You visibly frown. Must he refer to you as such? Like it is a title. So not to enrage or embarrass him, you smile at the stranger, then give him your name. 

“It is…an honor to meet you.”

Bi-Han remains silent. He looks you over and then turns his attention back to your father. 

“The terms of the marital contract come after.”

Your father hums in agreement. 

“Of course. A demonstration of might is of high priority. But should we not wait for your brothers? I was informed that they would be journeying with you.”  

“Their presence here is nonessential,” Bi-Han states.

You wonder why. If they are anything like him, you are thankful for their absence. 

Hearing your father order the servants to prepare the blocks for the test, you along with your mother stand back as your father gathers the six best fighters and has them line up in the center of the courtyard. 

In the meantime, Bi-Han stands at a distance in front of them with the Lin Kuei on his right. 

Once the six are ready, standing over seventeen 1-inch thick reinforced concrete pavers, your father joins Bi-Han and gives the word for them to begin. One by one, the fighters strike the blocks dead center, breaking them with ease.

You grin with pride. Yes, they can break more, but there is no need to push them, so long as Bi-Han is baited. In the end, it will be his guidance that shapes them to their full potential. 

With his mask on, it is frankly hard to tell. You lean just a bit to see his expression but you can not. He does however cross his arms and hum. 

“Are they competent fighters?”

Your father laughs. Of course, they are. He calls on a man with deep-set eyes - a good choice. The fighter steps forward and bows.  

“This is one of our strongest. If you wish to test–”

“Let us not be hasty, leader,” a familiar raspy voice interrupts.

Your master, an elderly woman with sunken features, saunters out from the throng and approaches your father.

“Excuse my interruption, but your daughter is a competent fighter. Should she not be tested instead?”

You frown. What is she doing? Proving yourself is no issue, but must you do it for your fiance? It is the fighters he came to test. Though you suppose you are not against showing off your techniques.

“If it’s what you wish, Father, I will fight,” you state in confidence. 

“Is this acceptable, Bi-Han?” Your father asks.

The man in question knits his brows in thought and then nods. He snaps his fingers and a member of the Lin Kuei without a hood steps forward and bows. 

“Do not pull your punches,” Bi-Han orders. His keen brown eyes turn to you, as though he wants to measure your expression. 

You remain stoic. If he is eager to see your strength, then that is fine. With confidence, you saunter to the center of the courtyard. Soon, the young man chosen to be your challenger joins you, striking a fighting pose. You do the same. 

A deathly silence consumes the stage.

You are not certain who calls the fight, but the moment it begins, the assassin rushes at you, attempting to strike you with a series of fast kicks. You step back, avoiding them, and manage to catch his leg against your side. Using his momentum to pivot him the opposite way, you strike him in the back with a front kick.  

The assassin staggers forward but catches himself. When he faces your direction, you can see the aggravation in his eyes. He rushes at you with a shout, throwing punch after punch. You can hardly match his speed, blocking what you can with your arms and hands. But then his stance changes and with a hard-hitting mountain punch simultaneously to the chest and face, you stagger back. 

For fuck’s sake.

An intense pain lights you up, but you push through it and rush at him. You do not want to continue this spar; you want to end it quickly before he puts you on your ass. Springing off your foot, you pull off a flying scissor kick, wrapping your legs around his head. Using your momentum against him, you toss the assassin off his feet and onto his back. Then with a shout of irritation, you raise your leg straight into the air and slam your heel into his face, breaking his nose with a wet crunch. You quickly roll back onto your feet and step away from him.

The Lin Kuei are no joke. 

You had hoped that he would not stand, but he does. The thin cloth over his face stains red as he bleeds profusely. All this seems to do is annoy him further. He comes at you a third time in anger, aiming at you with a straight punch. His mistake. You dodge it with ease and grab his wrist, yanking him forward and off balance. Turning in quickly, you elbow him in the stomach, then toss him over your back and onto the ground with a sharp smack. 

Your slip-up, however, is assuming that he is ready to submit. As you advance, the assassin flips back onto his feet and punches you in the face.

Instantly you taste blood in your teeth. Running your tongue on the inside of your lip, you wince in pain. He busted it. 

Your blood boils. 

Pointing your hand behind the assassin, you draw a circle with your finger, and then a swirling black portal materializes. One of the techniques of the amulet is portal creation via space and time magic. You do not want to use it in such a spar, but it is necessary.

Connecting it to one at your feet, you leap into the portal and appear behind the assassin, catching him off guard. He turns, but you pivot and roundhouse-kick him in the face. Your foot connects with his chin and he goes down like a rock, motionless. 

You do not even realize it is over until you hear a round of applause. You win. Stepping over the body, you bow, peeking up at Bi-Han. He seems almost surprised.

“I was not aware that she was capable of magic,” he states, turning his wide eyes to the man beside him. 

You raise a bow. They did not tell him. 

Your father hums. 

“Let us discuss it over some tea.”

He spares no words of gratitude and motions for Bi-Han to follow him. While hesitant, the high-handed man gives you one last look before he follows your father into the main house.

You sigh and saunter toward your mother, who appears elated. 

“Incredible work. I believe that you have impressed him.” 

“I should hope so,” you state with a snap, a bit annoyed that you were kicked around like a ball by his fighter. 

All it took was a few bruises and a busted lip. 

Your mother sighs and offers you back the book she took.

“Tame your anger. Go and rest. Tomorrow is a new day.” 

You give her a look of irritation before you saunter to the main house. Your master looks on at you with pride as you pass, but you are in too much of a foul mood to share your appreciation with her. The fight took too long, in your opinion. 

At least you are at last excused from this fiasco. A part of you, however, is curious about what Bi-Han has to say about you now.

It stays on your mind well into the night.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I just saw the excellent post about Chuuya's loyalty and 1) how he hasn't questioned his philosophy and 2) "In a world where a "path" typically involves challenging the characters' philosophies and forcing them to reevaluate, what the hell is going to have to happen to get Chuuya to do the same?" (quoting you)

Chuuya is always used by others. He's not the only BSD character whose been taken advantage of, but it does seem to be reoccurring with him? First by the government who intended to use him as a super weapon, then by the Sheep who used him for his ability, then by mafia/Mori (getting him to join in exchange for sparing the sheep, keeping his past from him and giving him incentive to become an executive and stay in the organization). He's constantly used for his power.

Please tell me if I'm misinterpreting what you all said, but it seems (to me) that Chuuya ignores the mafia's/Mori's manipulation because they have helped him and given him a home+family, so he's instead loyal to them.

Because even though Mori has not and is using him for his power, he still allows it/goes along with it because they've helped him in the past and earned his loyalty.

So Chuuya tolerates being used.

He's now being used again, obviously, in part, because of his power. We have Fyodor referring to him as just his ability and bragging about how he can "use" him better than Dazai ("doesn't that mean you're unfit to USE a gravity manipulator")

Do you think it's possible that just being vamped and used again will cause him to reflect on his mentality? He's once again being used (but be it in far more blatant way: literal mind control. Also reminds me of Verlaine+his creator). Reflecting on how he's been used in the past and no longer accepting being used by others anymore?

Or do you think it might have the opposite affect and push him deeper into the mafia somehow

Also it's interesting that Fyodor is using him but hasn't earned his loyalty (like the sheep+mafia) and how that'll affect Chuuya

I'll get to the second ask in a bit but I'm combining these because they're related.

About the first ask: I mean, yeah, you're right about this. I don't know that I'd consider it so much "ignoring" though as "the benefits outweigh the costs so whatever", and I do want to state that I'm pretty sure Mori is genuinely at least a little fond of Chuuya (see: their conversation about leadership at the end of Fifteen), and his Mafia colleagues do respect him.

But yeah, you are absolutely right to say that there is a pattern of people who want Chuuya for his ability and his loyalty, and/or reduced him down to these traits. Playing hot potato with the escaped military lab experiment and the Mafia won (<-simplification for the funnies but still).

But here's the thing: if this was the end of it, we might expect to see some resentment mixed in there from Chuuya. He was blackmailed with the Sheep's lives. His past was intentionally locked away from him until he worked his way up to executive. That's... not great.

But instead we find pretty much only gratitude from him. Why?

Well, see, there's a reason I put the return of Chuuya's screwed up self-concept in the tags on that post, because it's kind of at the heart of his impressive loyalty. Chuuya believes that since he is the one with the strongest power, that makes him responsible for protecting everyone else, which means that he rationalizes any concern or protection directed at him as something "above and beyond", and worthy of recognition and repayment. Remember that he genuinely felt like just a vessel for power and nothing else for apparently quite a bit of his childhood, and the Sheep emphasizing that he owed them for taking him in probably did not help.

When it comes to having his back, the Mafia did this for him in a way no one else did. They protect their own, a value that aligns closely with Chuuya's own personal philosophy. The Mafia is also relatively safe from external threat, if we recall Dazai's pitch to Odasaku in Day I Picked Up Dazai - Odasaku is being targeted, but no one in their right mind would challenge the Mafia just to get to him. So, the Mafia has provided Chuuya with protection, comradery, and relative safety, which in my mind all condenses into a central need that takes precedence over everything else to him.

Chuuya's core need is actually stability.

And this makes quite a bit of sense. He started off as a kid with no memories and a whole lot of trauma he couldn't remember the roots of. One's past is a source of stability, but that had been taken from him. His position as leader of the Sheep was shaky. Even his identity as a human being was called into question. Chuuya as a kid and teen was largely untethered, separate from everyone else with no way to ground himself. Under those circumstances, something that originated as a chain could easily become a safety rope.

And once Chuuya found this stability, there was really no need for him to change anything. So he didn't. He settled into his new role and became really, really good at it, and didn't bother to re-evaluate beyond that. Why would he? That minimal core need has been met, despite the rocky beginning.

Which brings me to this second ask because it's actually incredibly relevant. Yes, Chuuya and Sigma are alike. You are not losing it anon.

Let's run a list, shall we? They both awoke with no memories and a missing history, and had their humanity called into question. They were used and blackmailed repeatedly, which they were, fortunately and unfortunately, consciously aware of. When they find something that matters to them, they become violently defensive of it. They both operate on principles of reciprocity and transaction because that is what they believe to be normal in relationships (Sigma's ability even is quite literally a transaction!). They both have pretty low standards for their assistance (Sigma hearing one (1) single person (Atsushi) be kind to him in what he thought were his last moments, Chuuya "You have helped Chuuya! Chuuya will now kill and die for you!" Nakahara).

Above all else, they are looking for stability. They are looking for a home.

As of yet, Sigma hasn't found a true home, but it seems we may be building up to him joining the ADA. The key part is Sigma's realization that the Agency doesn't rely solely on transaction. Dazai is not using the Agency, the Agency is not using Dazai. The Agency members are all helping each other. They care about each other.

Meanwhile, Chuuya has already found a place that provides his core need, but there's one caveat about the Mafia that should be clarified here - as Odasaku says in Dark Era, people within its ranks don't talk about personal matters and feelings with each other, and everyone instead keeps to themselves. If you don't talk about your issues or air them out, relations tend to stay personally shallow and dictated almost entirely by the demands and positions of the organization. This is not a conducive environment for reappraisal or self-exploration.

Unfortunately, this is ideal for Mr. Chuuya "I'll keep all my emotions right here and then one day I'll die" Nakahara.

Chuuya has found some measure of stability - solace in his own self-defined identity in spite of the initial ambiguity as to his humanity. "This is who I am", "Till those flames die down, I can't just do whatever I want", "I'm gonna do what I need to do", etc. But importantly, this identity is entangled in whichever group he happens to be a part of, which in this case is the Mafia. This kind of self-identity cannot exist without the structure of an organization. It relies on the reciprocity of a group.

Moreover, it relies on Chuuya showing very little vulnerability. Compartmentalize, and move on. He expects that of himself.

So, we've established that Chuuya has his core need for stability met by the Mafia - a relatively secure place that runs on transaction, which is familiar to him - yet it also doesn't push him out of his comfort zone with respect to emotional vulnerability and openness. What this means is that, in the Mafia, Chuuya is practically invincible, both physically (his ability, his martial arts prowess) and emotionally (personal life kept hidden and guarded as a Mafia expectation).

Unfortunately, this means Chuuya also remains stagnant as a character, which finally, finally brings me back to your original question anon.

No, I don't think the vampirism is enough to trigger change in Chuuya's character. Chuuya has some standards, and treating him like a tool (and Dazai's tool, no less) is going to seriously piss him off, but that's anger at Fyodor, and it doesn't impact his stability with the Mafia any which way. If Chuuya had've been forced to activate Corruption to escape the drowning then maybe he would've been angry with Dazai enough for something to shift (activation being his own choice is a huge theme with them), but since he didn't, I expect Chuuya will unfortunately just shrug it off and roll with it. Probably yell at him for a bit, but nothing that would have far-reaching consequences for his character unless there is something about his current situation we don't yet know.

I think for Chuuya to grow and change as a character, he needs something major to shift in his life - the threat has to come from within his place of security. He needs to be destabilized. Something needs to happen that specifically targets his tethers and his self-concept.

Personally, my money's on the destabilization of his bond with Mori, who he has the most respect for, because that might trigger development related to leadership and goals, but I guess we'll see. I think it'll probably be incredibly heart wrenching and hurt us all severely, whatever it is.

Huh. I wrote a lot. Congrats for making it to the end! I'm going to sleep now. :D

—

Edited by removing the entire middle section because it was absolute garbage and probably should’ve been its own post. I hope the rest of this holds up. That’s what I get for writing things at 2 in the morning I guess.

[luvlybeomie]

painted confessions - c.bg

Pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader Warnings: none, beomgyu is just really soft, unintended picasso slander Genre: fluff, pining, bittersweet ending Word count: 2.2k (this was longer than i intended it to be lmao)

YOU AND BEOMGYU were currently sitting on the floor in your living room, crossed-legged and facing one another. The both of you had just finished a long day of nonsense at school, and had headed to your house as per usual to unwind.

Earlier however, you found some face-paint tucked away in one of the cupboards in your kitchen after fetching some glasses for drinks – there were a few palettes left over from your little sister's birthday party a couple weeks ago.

Hence, with the house to yourselves, the both of you agreed it would be fun to indulge yourselves in the activity, whilst also reliving a childhood memory.

With torn-out magazines and newspapers scattered across the floor, the both of you sat in silence as you painted random things on each other's skins. Which came as a surprise to you, since you would've expected Beomgyu to be making ruckus with some witty comments and teasing by now.

But as you shift your focus away from your craft, you notice the concentrated look plastered on his features. Despite the small and cold strokes you felt across against your cheek, he seemed strangely preoccupied with his thoughts. Beomgyu actually appeared excited at the start, jokingly boasting about how he was going to turn you into some sort of 'masterpiece' or something.

Yet now, it was like he was taking this all too seriously.

You clear your throat to break the silence, straightening your back.

"Is it looking like Van Gogh?" You suddenly joke with a small smile, referring to whatever he seemed to be working on, "you seem pretty into it."

The question however seems to catch Beomgyu off guard as he flicks his eyes towards you, looking almost startled. He blinks once, then twice, before blinking once more. He shoots you a sheepish grin, but was quick to come up with a reply.

"....I'd say more like Picasso."

In actuality, Beomgyu wasn't as immersed as you thought he was.

He had been heedlessly painting random nothings across your skin for a while now (except for the bootleg Pikachu on your cheek that he painted at the start), which unintentionally ended up looking like some abstract piece altogether – so technically, he wasn't lying.

In fact, he had been focusing solely on you.

After all, it was the only reason why he agreed to do all of this.

With the way you were both sitting, he was given the opportunity to be this physically close to you without having to try find ways to do so. It was somewhat intimate with the proximity between you, and it sent a fluttery sensation to Beomgyu's stomach. It left him barely being able to contain the shuffling he did on the cushion he sat on.

He also tried so, so hard to not stare at you for too long, mentally reminding himself to look away once in a while, and pretend to get more paint or rinse his brush. He didn't want to look like a creep.

But otherwise, he would allow himself to soak in and admire your features. 

Like the way your hair fell naturally, yet so perfectly, forcing Beomgyu to resist the urge to run his fingers through your hair...

The way you're protruding your lower lip into a small pout, face etched in concentration, which he desired to leave small kisses on and all over...

The content look in your eyes that shone behind your long lashes, that he often found himself falling so helplessly into...

The softness of your hands as your fingers swiped across his cheeks to remove smudges of paint, which Beomgyu wanted to hold onto for endless hours...

And the way you made his heart leap so effortlessly as your warm breath touched his cheek, your face leaning dangerously to inspect his own...

Beomgyu could honestly go on and on about what he admired about you.

After all, he was so utterly and completely enamoured by you.

His friends would often tease him about how obvious he acted at school – the longing glances he would send your way when you weren't looking, and the way he would always be seeking your company and be talking about you in every conversation. They could've been talking about the most obscure subject ever, and Beomgyu would somehow always manage to squeeze in and mention you.

At lunch, he would always reserve a seat next to his and buy you a drink or snack from the nearby vending machine. They would all jokingly puke at how sweet he became when it came to you. Usually a prankster and menace, they would scoff when he would become absolute mush in your presence.

But overall, his friends were genuinely happy for Beomgyu. Yeonjun especially would often pester him about making a move and confessing his feelings to you.

But the mere thought of it possibly ruining your long existing friendship, Beomgyu was content with the way things are now. He was fine...well, at least that's what he kept telling himself.

Soon the atmosphere was picked up where it left off as you shrugged off his sudden switch in demeanour as nothing more than self-absorption. The both of you once again fell into the same silence. And yet again, Beomgyu found himself in the same little routine of his, admiring you quietly as he dipped his brush into the cup full of mucky water between you.

Even now, your face decorated with a pretty bad paint job, he thought you looked beautiful. You were perfect in his eyes, more so than any other masterpiece.

He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have someone like you in his life. He saw you as the string that held him together at his lowest, and the shining light in his darkest days. You were incredibly patient and understanding. Despite being known for his bright image at school, very few only knew about his subtle, quiet side. You taught and made him realise that it was okay to show vulnerability, that he didn’t need to fake a persona and smile all the time.  

It scared him how attached he was to you, overwhelming him at times. He knew that he was still young – the both of you were, almost nearing the end of high-school. The both of you would then go into college, and perhaps not the same ones. You'll be bound to meet new people and so will he. But something in the back of his head, told him–no, screamed at him that he will never find someone like you.

Beomgyu may be unsure of a lot of things, but he was so certain about you.

Swiping his brush across some glittery pink paint, Beomgyu was filled with a sudden urge. Lifting his wrist up to your temple, he wrote across your forehead, his strokes enlaced with meaning.

But as he flicked the brush away from your head and eyed the painted slashes, a bittersweet sensation settles in his stomach, toning down the butterflies.

On your skin, it messily read: 'I love you.'

This was the closest thing to a confession he thinks he'll ever make. He didn't have the courage to tell you, despite wanting to so bad. At least, not yet. You deserved the truth. But it just wasn't the right time – everyone at school were too preoccupied with finals at the moment. He didn't want to burden you with his feelings (plus, he didn't think he'll be handle the rejection all too well either, so it was better to leave it til later).

So he thinks to himself that this was okay. That this was enough for now to vent off his feelings.

But as Beomgyu began to read the words over and over, he felt himself gradually freeze up to the point he was forced to halt his movements.

Even if he technically didn't confess, it definitely felt like he did.

Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, his heart palpitating erratically. His fingers twitched against the cheap paint brush.

The room suddenly became warm.

Beomgyu felt himself short-circuit, his cheeks burning as his brush hovered in the air beside your head. His actions then sunk in, only now realising the gravity of them.

'What am I doing?!,' he internally screamed, mentally bashing himself.

This however, didn't go unnoticed.

His behaviour was mistakenly interpreted as suppressed laughter, with the way he sucked in a breath and how he tightly creased his lips. You flick your eyes towards him, sending him a pointed look as you halted your movements.

Your eyes meet.

"Gyu? What's wrong?"

His throat suddenly felt dry, and he only let out a few strangled noises. You rose a brow, confused. "What, did you draw a dick on my face or something?" You ask, a small snort escaping your lips.

"Uh..."

You then deadpan. "You did, didn't you? Ha, ha, that's so mature of you."

You roll your eyes at his childishness, dropping your brush into the cup, "that's not exactly masterpiece-worthy, but I guess I'll be the judge of that."

It was when you suddenly reach into your pocket for your phone that Beomgyu went into full-blown panic.

You were going to see your reflection on the camera and see his confession.

Oh God, you were going to see his confession.

So Beomgyu did the first thing he could've possibly thought of.

He stretched his hands out, taking a hold of your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. There was a brief moment of awkward silence, the both of you looking at one another – one in question and the other apologetic. Before you could've said anything, he began wiping his palms all over your face in attempts to smudge the paint.

"Gyah! W-What the–Beomgyu!" You shriek, swatting your hands in attempts to pry him away. In doing so, your phone slipped from your fingers, falling onto the floor. Though, Beomgyu only continued, trying to keep you in place to ensure his message was rubbed off completely.

"Get off of me, idiot!" You shortly managed to break away from his attack, forcibly pushing him by his chest. Beomgyu fell back, barely managing to catch himself as he steadied himself with his hands. Glancing at your now slightly reddened forehead, the confession was practically nonexistent – his mission was accomplished.

In his relief, he took a moment to study you.

You gawked at him in absolute bewilderment, an array of colours smeared inharmoniously across your face. Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water, seemingly in shock and unsure of what to say. In short, you looked completely ridiculous. And not so long after, Beomgyu found himself unable to contain the snort that left his lips.

"Now it's definitely looking like Picasso!" Beomgyu cackled, clutching his stomach as his booming laughter filled the living room. He couldn't help it. The look on your face, plus the absurdity of the situation. It was just all too funny.

You glared at the boy, annoyed.

"What the hell's going on with you? You've been acting funny since we started all this," you asked, crossing your arms.

"And you, my dear friend, look funny," Beomgyu immediately shot back with a grin, purposely dodging your question. Adding to his cheekiness, he pinched your cheek affectionately, which you were quick to slap away. Luckily for him, you actually took the bait, scoffing at his response.

"Oh, yeah? You think that's funny?" You swipe your hand across the palette, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Come here!"

Yelping, Beomgyu was quick to shift from his spot, slimly dodging your blotched hands.

A chase then ensued soon after, your laughter and shrilled screams echoing through the house. The both of you made attempts to get back at one another, which in turn regrettably stained your uniforms, that would for sure earn both your mothers' disapproval. Though, that didn't concern you both, nor crossed your minds at the moment, being too immersed in your little game.

The pursuit however ultimately led you both back into the living room. You came to a standstill, wrestling each other for dominance whilst trying to get swipes at each others' faces. But with the litter caused by your ruckus, you clumsily lose your footing on one of the newspapers, falling onto the floor and sending Beomgyu down with you.

Thud.

The fall had winded him momentarily, gaining his bearings only shortly after catching himself. He was hovering over you, supporting his weight with his hands resting on either side of your head. After steadying his breath from the run, Beomgyu was about to ask if you were alright.

Though, it was cut off by your laughter.

His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitching.

On your face was the most carefree expression ever, seemingly unbothered by the fall. Your eyes crinkled from the wide, pearly smile plastered your face, and your shoulders shook as endless chuckles escaped your lips. The bright colours on your face only seemed to enhance your joy as you practically beamed at him.

The sight made his chest feel all fuzzy and warm, swelling with pure admiration and love for you. It felt like his heart was about to burst at any moment.

In this very brief moment, Beomgyu reassures himself. This is alright, he thinks to himself with a small smile. Despite longing for more, if being just your friend meant seeing you like this, then this was alright.

Pushing away his doubts, he indulges himself in the moment, and soon joins you in your laughter.

A/N: Any feedback is appreciated!! Requests are also open!! Thank you for reading!

[artsyunderstudy]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thanks for tagging me @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @valeffelees @emeryhall @monbons @thewholelemon @whatevertheweather @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @orange-peony @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @theearlgreymage @ic3-que3n - I definitely shouldn't be procrastinating writing because I'm overdue but I'm a sucker for a good Q&A.

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

I technically have a handful of WIPs I haven't given up on posting but I'm not actively working on. Après la Pluie, le Beau Temps is the one I'm actively working on. I'm in the planning stages with All the Lonely People which is a fic I'm planning to cowrite with @cutestkilla my beloved. Then I have Sober, Water Grey, Close Your Eyes, and A Mild Case of Madness (yes I haven't given up on AMCOM I was actually thinking I'd try and finish it up after I'm done posting Après)

I don't actually work on more than one fic at a time but I also had like a flood of ideas once I was done writing Someone Wicked and that's why the pile of WIPs. Also I was trying to do discovery writing and realized that I hate it.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Why is this so hard???

Okay. Um.

Roommates who (pretend to) hate each other + alcohol induced vulnerability = publicly getting off with each other on a stranger's couch in the middle of a rager, probably to the dulcet sounds of goosebumps by travis scott.

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Amazingly my current WIP doesn't really require much bracing. But I am still intending very much to complete Sober (working title) which I talked a lot about last year. That would come with warnings for grief, alcohol and sexual assault. Which makes it sound so much worse than it is, but then again I always think that my writing isnt actually that sad but then i have people telling me i ripped their heart out of their chest and chewed on it so im not a good judge of that. i will say it definitely has more jokes than my usual fare.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

I am very decisive when it comes to titles, so I genuinely cant think of anything. I guess Sober, because I'm not sure that's the right title for the fic because it's not about addiction. It's about drunken hookups (and like, definitely some alcohol as a coping mechanism but like, mostly just uni students partying and going too hard as they are wont to do) so I was thinking of making it longer like "Kiss Me When You're Sober" but I dunno. It's not even close to done so I don't have to decide yet.

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next?

Après la Pluie, le Beau Temps is the fic I'm actively working on and I'm going to post this guy next come hell or high water. It's just taking me a while, I'm a bit burnt out. But things they will come.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

All my documents are the fic titles so nothing really fun there.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“If you’re going to do this, do you actually trust him? After everything he’s done to you. Everything you’ve done to each other.” I sigh. “I don’t know.”  All the things I’ve always believed I hated about him feel different now, filtered through a new lens. His relentlessness, his sharp edges, his poise. The way he moves across the pitch, and plays his violin, sweet-toned and sorrowful. The singe of his magick.  “I just … see him,” I say quietly. “And I know I want him. The way I’m supposed to.”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I don't know, I don't think I've scrapped any ideas for this WIP yet? Actually, I think earlier on in the planning I had wanted to have Niall and Dev being absolutely gross with their PDA through the whole thing, but I ended up writing a completely different side-story for them that's genuinely a ton better. Basically, they were a gag, and now they have an actual arc.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Gonna mirror Dre here, we have been planning a fic to cowrite but we both have other fanfic obligations to fulfill first, so it's a little bit on the backburner until we are both freed up. Again, to parrot her, it's a canonverse AU based on a movie we both adore, older (late 30's) strangers to lovers, a ghost story but in a cathartic way, not a scary way, developing relationship. We have a shared trello and I can't help but daydream about it. I am so very very eager to start working on it in earnest.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

One, actively. Two if you count the fic with Dre which we occasionally can't help but get into long discussions about.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I am currently writing a genre I've never written before which has just been a little daunting. As well as this first chapter has zero simon or baz, probably, and THAT is hard too. But it has to be that way. For the setup. It just means I'm having to learn how to write a lot of side characters in a way I haven't done before, like Niamh and Niall (since i have a bit of experience with agatha and dev)

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Everyone deserves so many many kudos.

Tags! @hushed-chorus @run-for-chamo-miles @j-nipper-95 @noblecorgi @facewithoutheart and @stitchyqueer <3

[bookwyrminspiration]

KOTLC Graphic Novel: B&N Virtual Event Summary

There are no spoilers

Shannon Messenger was accompanied by Stuart Gibbs, author of Spy School and other series, who asked the questions

Enjoy!

Event's theme was Iggy Celebration--Shannon chose to wear dark blue, as it's secretly her favorite Iggy

It's officially called Dark Blue Iggy in the books, but the actual color nomination from fans was "tardis blue". She couldn't use that for potential legal issues, but she knows it's actually Tardis blue, making it her favorite

Shannon can't take credit for Iggy's changing color

She'd made him pink in book 2, and so a fan at an event asked her what color he'd be in the next book

Shannon asked her what color she wanted him to be. This fan, dressed in head to toe purple, leaned in and very seriously said "Orange." So Iggy was orange

Opened it to fans after that--but sadly never got the name of that one fan to thank her properly ("Whoever you are girl in purple, thank you!")

Book 10 doesn't have an official release date because Shannon's still writing it (as fast as she can!)

Iggy's color options for Book 10 are still undecided as well

Shannon thanks everyone immensely for their patience; "it's my focus! I want to get to them as fast as possible," but she also wants the book to be good and worth the wait

"Naive Shannon thought the later I got into the series the easier the books would be to write. WRONG!"

she has so many planted seeds to keep track of and constantly feels the pressure to one up her previous books

"I kinda wish I'd set the bar a little lower from the beginning"

She can't make a perfect book; there's always going to be someone who doesn't like something

She's reached the point of realizing her plans, and it's a delicate balance. You don't want reveals to feel like they came completely out of left field, but also don't want them to be like "I guessed that six books ago"

Finding the balance between feeling earned and still surprising is a daunting task ahead of her; it's more labor intensive than she thought it'd be

Stuart Gibbs points out that even if it takes a while, Shannon gives us a lot of book per book, so it's worth it

Shannon never intended to write such long books; she used to say every time that the next one she'd get the hang of being concise and it would be shorter, but everyone stopped believing her by book four

Was a graphic novel adaptation ever part of her plans? Secretly yes--she started as an art major and loves seeing illustrated versions of her characters. The highlight of her year is the cover art, and graphic novels are entire books!

It was on her author bucket-list, but she wasn't sure it'd would be possible; some books just don't work as graphic novels and they're expensive for publishers

When she found out she got the adaptation she "did a happy dance I was very grateful no one could see"

How involved were you in this process? Very involved, since her publishers know she has an art background

They let her pick from writers who auditioned--she wasn't sure that was a great idea because she didn't know if she could be objective; "no, I wrote it this way because it needs to be this way!"

Celina "knocked it out of the park" with her audition

For Gabriella, the artist, she was exactly what Shannon was looking for; she wanted a new style--Jason Chan (the cover artist) is incredible, but she wanted the GN to be distinct and more illustrated

She describes the GN as "like Disney meets manga," cartoonish but not

Shannon gave notes on rough drafts, inked pages, and colored versions--she's sure they got sick of her notes by the end of it

She remembers thinking "certain Keefe jokes MUST make it in," but then seeing them in the visual format they realized "huh, this joke isn't funny anymore"

Anything that surprised you about the process? Definitely some of those Keefe jokes not working, but also the fact they had to split it. At first she thought they could work it all into one, but emotion takes longer to convey visually, and they were "robbing the heart out of the book" by trying to fit it in one

Shannon jokes everything she writes ends up longer than they expect

Do you have any idea about part two? It's in the works, but it's a herculean task for the artists, so it all depends on them; "do not blame them at all! this is a daunting, daunting, massive work load"

Shannon owes Gabriella "all the cookies ever"

it's a very tight timeline, so they'll share the release date when they have it, but for now just let the artist do their thing

Was it weird to spend so much time with book 1 again? Forget anything? Want to change anything? There were some sentences she wanted to rewrite--"a book is never done, it's just due"

Thought about adding Gisela in book one, since she wishes she'd introduced her then; she always knew she'd play a huge role, but thought it'd be more clever to not introduce her until she was ready to bring her into play.

Now she disagrees with that decision and wishes she'd been there from book one, but decided that "it's not bad the way she did it, but it would've been more elegant" so she didn't change it

Does Gibbs have anything he would change about his book? He says you don't always know which characters will catch on, some some that become important he wishes he spent more time with in the beginning--"if I'd done this in book one, I couldn't done this in book 7!"

Any movie news? Hollywood is so much hurry up and wait, a ladder with thousands of rungs; they got caught at the script stage when the writer's strike happened, and even though the strike ended that doesn't mean the gears start turning again immediately.

the script is the most important thing, especially since KOTLC would be a very expensive movie, so the more solid the foundation the better the chance they have of getting greenlit

Her fingers are crossed; she wants a movie/show, but she wants it to be a good movie/show

Fans often don't realize how much work it is and how out of the author's hands it is

Reader questions! (name spellings are to the best of my ability)

Celiana: what advice do you have for young authors? Focus on writing and enjoying that part of the process before publishing! Publishing is stressful and complicated

Shannon throws the question to Gibbs. He says a lot of the times fans tell them they don't like their writing, it's their first draft. "Well that would be the problem."

Very few people hit it out of the park on their first try. Editing is a super important part of the process!

Shannon writers her books weird (editing intensely as she goes because she's always behind on deadlines, and hopes to go back to normal one day), but before that she'd have 2 or 3 drafts each. Book 1 was draft 20, Exile was draft 3, Everblaze was 2.

Gibbs does about 10 drafts each (though admits his outlines process isn't nearly as rigorous as Shannon's)

Shannon reached a point where she said "I don't think I'm smart enough to do this alone anymore!" Her books are like houses of cards, and she simply doesn't have time for the drafts to fall apart

She and her team frequently painstakingly plan things out--and even then sometimes have to scrap things. Remember that scene we rigorously went through last week? "it's not working! Now what?"

Mary Claire: Was it hard for you to find a publisher? Yes. First she got an agent, as that's important when traditionally publishing. She got her at draft 13--said that while she loved the book and its idea, you could tell this was Shannon's first book.

They went through a few edits and thought draft 15 was the one, but she got LOTS of rejections

her confidence was shaken, and draft 16 turned into a mess

At draft 18 it was sold, and then they went through 2 more versions with an actual editor; "so so much rewriting..."

Gibbs tried to get published as a kid, but was rejected throughout all of his schooling, so "to heck with this! I'm going to Hollywood to write movies"...which was actually pretty similar

he came back to writing 15.5 years ago during the last writers strike--"hey maybe I should try this book thing again"

They don't share their experiences to scare you; it's worth it, but you have to love writing to be an author given how much work and rejection it is

That's why Shannon says to enjoy the writing stage as long as you can; you need to fall in love with writing and with your story and truly believe in it

Were you always reading as a kid? Writing stories? When did you decide to write a book? Shannon was very focused on art as a kid and wanted to be a Disney animator, but her art doesn't work for that; she can't draw what's in her head, she can only copy, which "makes me about as useful as a camera"

She thought she could learn the skill, but couldn't in art classes; she realized she was always going to be frustrated if she kept at it

She'd started college at 16 and now her life plan was falling to pieces, so her mom advised her to take a class for fun

it was a film class, since she thought she'd be able to watch TV for school

she was, but her teacher also encouraged her to go to film school since she could finally bring things out properly on the page how they were in her head

"You have a lot to learn, but I see something in you." "Cool, I'm a film major now. Answered!"

Turns out film is too collaborative for her and she wanted more control; "there's those book things, I guess I could try those."

She doesn't regret the journey

Addie: How do you et the ideas to write? Shannon wishes she had a tree that sprouted money and great ideas, but really ideas are everywhere and it's a matter of paying attention.

You don't need your whole idea all at once--can be small like "I wonder if that hat...wasn't a hat at all!"

She knew she wanted to work with elves, and she knew she wanted to strip the magic from the story in favor of sci-fi/superhero logistics. The rest came bit by bit

Some days she couldn't write fast enough, others it was "oo, what if they wore capes?"

Elizabeth: what do you do when you have writers' block? Shannon doesn't like to call it that because that makes it seem scarier than it is; to her it's just being stuck, and she plays the "what if?" game

What if I got rid of the previous scene? What if they went here instead? What if, what if, what if? Open yourself to new possibilities

Gibbs is a big going for a walk person for when you're stuck. We all get stuck, not just young writers. he also likes hiking--walking but not coming back for a while.

At this point a poll was sent to the audience asking them to choose between 5 pairs. Bolded won with percentage included afterwards

Teleporting or light leaping? (63%). Eternalia or Mysterium? (63%). Bathe a T-Rex or Pet a Verminion? (55%). Telepath or Empath? (62%). Cape or No Cape? (60%)

Shannon's surprised the Keefe fans didn't pull through with the Empath vote

No matter what Shannon writes, someone's going to be unhappy, so she started pulling back on appealing to fans and prioritizes what fits the story

Marissa: Will Iggy ever go back to grey? That's up to the readers! Shannon leaves it completely in our hands, so if we ever nominate and vote for grey, she'll write it.

Shannon thanks everyone for reading and being patient, as she's writing as fast as she can

When a book is released she usually celebrates with a dessert; she ordered a bunch of fall flavor donuts from Krispy Kreme today, so she's not sure if she'll save one for tomorrow or get something new

It's dangerous that she can just push a button and donuts will show up at her house (doordash)

Gibbs and Shannon hope everyone love the graphic novel as much as they do--and stay tuned for part 2!

[eddiezpaghetti]

Your perspective on Byler is super interesting, thank you for these posts! I agree that Byler isn't queerbaiting, but what if it's still an accident in the sense that they intended to tell a story of unrequited love from Will's pov (like Steve/Nancy, or Dustin/Max in season 2), and this is what those shots of Will between Mike and El are for, and didn't realize that Mike could be seen by a part of the audience as queer and possibly loving Will back?

Okay, for the most part, I'd just be reiterating the post I already made. So let's narrow this down to something more specific. Why is it not like Steve and Nancy or Max and Dustin?

Let's look at Max and Dustin first. I'll make a post about Steve and Nancy later because this wound up being longer than I meant for it to be.

What first comes to mind with Max and Dustin is the moment it really ended. When Dustin saw Lucas and Max together in the junkyard. If Dustin and Max were similar to Mike and Will, parallel to them, then the moment Dustin saw Lucas and Max together in the junkyard would be the same beat in their stories to the moment Mike and El reunited in the desert.

However, take a look at how they're shot.

This, versus

This.

And, just as important...

This scene.

AND this scene.

As I said in my first post, the reunion scene is shot that way--with Will making direct fucking contact with the camera--because he's supposed to be the one you're paying attention to in that scene. Not El and Mike.

Likewise, you're supposed to be paying attention to Dustin's feelings in the shot where he's watching Lucas and Max, but you'll notice some key differences.

One, Lucas and Max arriving together is shot as significant, as the focus, before it shifts to Dustin's reaction, instead of Dustin's reaction being shoved INTO their arrival. There's an over-the-shoulder shot to show that he (and Steve) have noticed Lucas and Max arriving, but the focus is still on Lucas and Max, reiterating what the audience already knew, that they're blatantly going to be The Couple, as was made pretty clear by their previous scenes, which brings me to the next point.

Their previous scenes. Their previous scenes. Lucas and Max had previous scenes leading up to that moment in the junkyard. THOSE--Lucas filling Max in, showing up at her house, convincing her to sneak out so that he can prove that everything he's been telling her is true and winning her trust, and Max giving him at least that much benefit of the doubt--were the real equivalent to El and Mike reuniting in the desert (isolated from Will). You want the audience to care about a couple? This is what you do. You give them private moments. And I was truly remiss in my first post not to point out that...Jonathan and Argyle were also there. So was fucking Brenner. Why didn't we see them? Why was the scene shot in such a way that you briefly forgot their existence but Will Byers was staring into your soul? You know why.

Getting back on topic, the final piece of the puzzle here is the scene that followed Dustin accepting that Max liked Lucas and not him. Once more, Lucas and Max have a private, tender scene. Emphasis on private. Once more, we get them alone. They talk, get everything they have to say out in the open, and only once the conversation comes to a lull does the story move on.

You know what the equivalent scene would be for Mike and El? Well, you've got one of two options, and neither is great for them.

First, you have Mike in that scene where he makes the glasses and he starts to say something to El but immediately gets interrupted by Argyle throwing pizza on the table, ker-splat.

And second, you have the infamous "I love you" scene. Which they are emphatically not alone in. Famously, Will starts that conversation in the first place, and his face is hovering over Mike's shoulder the whole damn time. (Again, this could have been shot in ways that made us forget he existed for a little while, and the show decided not to do that.) But, I really must impress the importance of this...

EL. AND MIKE. WERE NOT. EVEN. IN. THE SAME SCENE. AT ALL.

They weren't even in the same place! Not consciously, at least! Sometimes the camera would show El on the counter and it'd be, like, the tip of her nose and a little bit of her brow, but that does not count. That's like showing the phone in a phone call. Her body is basically an inanimate object that only allows verbal communication at this point. Then who was phone? EL WAS PHONE.

Okay, outdated memes aside, my point is that this is not how romantic scenes work. There are things missing, things wrong, and things very present in places where they should be absent. And the creators clearly know this because those are the rules they've laid out before and the path they've followed since. Mike and El never had any private, intimate, romantic scenes in season 4, despite having them earlier in the show. This is carving out the trajectory of their relationship moving forward. It is a vector, it has direction and force, and it is going straight toward the bitter end.

So I guess this is mostly about why El and Mike aren't happening than why Will and Mike are. Which is only part of the equation, true enough. To play devil's advocate here, maybe it's possible that the result is that El goes on to be happily single because there's so much more to life than stupid boys, Mike lets go, and Will pines for the rest of his days. Sure, whatever. Possibility, I guess.

One thing, though.

You wanna know who did have private, intimate scenes before and after the desert reunion?

Ya bois Michael Wheeler and William Byers, that's who.

Edit: I meant to say one more thing that I'm just realizing I forgot to mention. Dustin's face while he was watching Max and Lucas was clearly visible while Will's is not. We can see HIM, but not his FACE. This is like placing a wrapped box in the middle of the kitchen table and saying "Do Not Open Until Xmas". We're gonna unwrap that later.

[himbosuplex]

Mais, talk about! (Gambit/Rogue/Magneto)

Mais, talk about! [X-Men '97 (Gambit/Rogue/Magneto)]

Premise:

Remy LeBeau stands outside Magneto's room, unable to forget an impromptu kiss earlier that day and wanting to finally put an end to the uncertainty that lingers between he and Rogue.

But the answer isn't quite as simple as he thought...

[Link to the fic on AO3]

Notes:

Posting this at near 3am before X-Men '97 inevitably kicks over my sandcastle and declares it wrong in every way.

Please take the references to off-screen events with patience, as this is but a portion of a much longer fic I'd like to write but simply just don't have the energy to at the moment, so the most you get of prior events is a spicy comic I made recently. I wanted to, at the very least, float the idea of "Romyneto" to more people, as surprisingly few folk have considered that maybe you don't need to fracture a love triangle... Maybe you just need to make it into a heart.

Hashtag let Rogue have both the spicy chaos bisexual AND Sexy Grandpa... she's been through enough and deserves it.

Also a final author's note: I'm from Texas, not Louisiana, so pardon my clumsy use of Cajun French. I did an embarrassing amount of research for this short of a fic, but hopefully it'll pay off in the future. Anyway, keep reading for the actual fic!

-----

Remy stood outside the door to Magneto’s room, resting his forehead on the rich stained wood. He had been mustering up the courage for close to ten minutes to knock. The only thing propelling him forward was the fear of being seen loitering.

All he intended was to check if Magneto was awake and willing to talk. It was the early hours of the morning, but who the hell had a normal sleep schedule anymore? He briefly considered waiting for Rogue to return, which would likely be the wiser choice. However, Remy wasn’t always known for making the most prudent decisions, especially after a drink or two to calm his nerves. Waiting for Rogue wouldn’t alleviate the intense anxiety he felt at that moment.

After all, he was dealing with someone who was intellectually superior and more powerful in every aspect. Magneto was someone who seemed to excel effortlessly at everything, akin to a character from one of Jubilee’s video games. Moreover, Magneto could actually touch the woman Remy loved. Perhaps it would be easier to just give in or give up. It wasn’t that Remy opposed being in an unconventional relationship with Rogue, or even being intimate with another man. It was simply the fact that it had to be him—a person who felt threatening on multiple levels and made him feel inadequate whenever he was around.

Clenching his fist, he rapped on the door before he could chicken out and leave. He had never been this gêné, this easily embarrassed. It frustrated him to feel this way and it frustrated him that of all aspects of his life that he could feel insecure about, it was this. He always had so much confidence with Rogue because he did truly think any physical hurt he experienced was entirely worthwhile. Now he wasn’t even sure if she felt the same about him anymore.

Maybe he should just wait and talk to her like an adult, like Jubilee said. As much as he hated being called out by a teenager, he did have to begrudgingly admit she was right. No one answered the door, so he assumed that some people did indeed have a normal sleep schedule. Or at least, he hoped so. Turning to leave, he managed only a few steps before the doorknob clicked, and the door slowly opened.

Qu’el tonnerre m’écrase.

He leaned towards the partially open door, peering into the dark room. There was nothing. Could it have opened by itself? He knew the chances were slim, but he held onto hope. As he moved to leave, some invisible force pulled him back towards the door. Merde. It seemed better to comply than to be dragged in like a child. Gingerly pushing the door open with his index finger, he entered the dark room.

“So you awake, eh?” he said as casually as he could manage, adjusting to the dimness. The door clicked shut behind him, and the curtains parted slightly, allowing a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the room better. “You gonna talk or just gimme frissons?”

“Do you make a habit of waking people up at three in the morning?” Magneto’s voice carried an edge of irritation as he gestured for Remy to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Sitting upright, his hair tousled from sleep, and his chest bare, Magneto exuded a commanding presence even in the dim moonlight filtering through the room. The sheets draped luxuriously around him hinted at more than just his bare chest, drawing Remy’s attention despite himself. While his usual skintight uniform left little to the imagination, Magneto’s well-sculpted physique was even more striking when unclothed.

“Non.” Remy took the indicated seat, unable to suppress a smirk. “Only when Gambit feeling particularly vindictive.”

Annoyance briefly flashed across Magneto’s face before he regained his usual icy composure, his features settling into a mask of stoicism. “Did you intend to discuss anything or were you just being ‘vindictive?’” His cold eyes bore into Remy, reflecting the moonlight with an almost ethereal glow.

Remy felt the urge to respond with his usual charm and sarcasm, but he knew better than to try such tactics with Magneto. He was just as immune to this as he was to Rogue’s abilities. Nor did such banter seem conducive to actually hashing out anything going on between them. Clearing his throat nervously, Remy ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the right words to broach the subject weighing on his mind.

“Why Magneto go and kiss Gambit, huh?” Remy’s question hung in the air, heavy with tension.

“I’ll acquiesce, but first I wish for you to answer my question.” Magneto’s sneer was evident even in the dim light.

“What dat, den?”

Magneto’s piercing gaze filled him with unease. “Why did Gambit kiss Magneto back?”

Remy felt a weight press down on his chest, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. He should have anticipated this question, especially after bringing up the kiss from earlier that day, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. The shame of his desperation hadn’t abated at all since it had happened. An overwhelming urge to flee flooded his mind, urging him to make a dash for the door in the hopes it would yield. Excuses and cop-outs ping-ponged across his mind, and he was ready to try anything to avoid answering the question.

“Ah,” Remy began, shaking his head. “Maybe we gon wait til Rogue gets back, yeah?” He attempted to shrug off the weight of the conversation, rising to his feet in an attempt to retreat to the safety of his own room. But once again, he was met with resistance, pulled back with enough force that he stumbled and flopped onto his back, legs still dangling over the edge of the mattress.

“Do you require a reminder?” Magneto’s voice was low and commanding as he leaned in closer, silver hair falling around his face. At such close proximity, his intense eyes were mesmerizing, and Remy could feel the warmth of Magneto’s breath against his skin. “You never gave the impression of someone who would flee so easily.”

Remy wanted to respond with one of his usual comebacks or snide remarks, but his brain failed him. Clutching the bedsheets tightly, he attempted to quell his frayed nerves. The offer of warm lips was tantalizing, his loneliness making him feel touch-starved and desperate. From such close proximity, he could better appreciate just how attractive Magneto truly was. With sky blue eyes framed by strong brows and accentuated by thick, dark eyelashes, Magneto’s features exuded a captivating allure. Rather than detracting from his sharp features, the creases and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth seemed to enhance them, giving him a distinguished air. It was the kind of face that anyone, regardless of preference, could acknowledge as objectively handsome.

Clearing his throat, Remy shifted uneasily. “Man gets tres lonely sometimes, yeah.”

“This is true, yes. Therein lies your answer.”

Once more their lips touched, this time without Remy giving any pretense of resistance. Heat surged through his body, his fingers digging into the bedsheets as he held on tighter. Initially, he had attributed his resentment of their first kiss to the realization there was merit to Rogue’s attraction. But now, he knew the reason was far more primal: he wanted to be kissed again.

There was a comforting strength in the way Magneto kissed him. While Rogue possessed raw physical power, their rare moments of physical contact held a delicate yearning—a desire to be held and protected in ways her power denied her. But with Magneto, it was different. His unwavering confidence manifested even in moments of intimate affection, a man who was more than capable of taking what he desired. As their lips parted, Remy couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and consumed by a deep longing.

“You say dat the answer, but it don’t make sense, no.” Remy pushed himself back up, turning around so that the two of them sat face to face. “Mais la, why would you ever be lonely?” The tone of his voice implied what he left unsaid: ‘You have Rogue.’

“It is not mine I speak of.” Magneto extended his hand, reaching towards Remy’s arm. The movement caused the sheets around his waist to slip downward, revealing the bare skin of his hip. Only the bed linens separated his unclothed body from the cool air. The moonlight played off the contours of his body, accentuating every curve and muscle.

Remy hesitated, his mind racing with thoughts of how Rogue might react to the situation. It was evident that she and Magneto had been spending considerable time together, reigniting whatever bond they shared in the past. However, he couldn’t assume that their relationship had progressed to the extent his insecurity insisted. Would he truly be any better if he acted behind her back? He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards Magneto, nor could he ignore the tantalizing prospect of exploring a relationship unburdened by the complexities of their current love triangle. And yet, he couldn’t shake the guilt that gnawed at him, the fear of betraying Rogue’s trust and the uncertainty of how she would react when she found out.

As he looked into Magneto’s piercing blue eyes, he saw a depth of understanding that promised something more than just physical intimacy. It was a proposition of mutual respect, a chance to be seen and valued in a way that most around him failed to do. Despite the taunts and deliberate attempts to antagonize, he got the distinct impression that Magneto thought more highly of him than it seemed at face value.

Perhaps it wasn’t about choosing between having Rogue for himself or letting her be with someone else - but about embracing the complexity of all their desires. Though their exchanges were often fraught with confrontation, there were moments when Remy caught glimpse of a softer side to Magneto. It was in the way Magneto’s gaze lingered longer than necessary, the soft way he looked at Rogue, and the subtle hints of approval that slipped through his stoic facade.

“Gambit don’t know…”

“You came here tonight to talk, so let us talk.” Magneto interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. He continued to offer his extended hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Remy accepted, allowing himself to be pulled down beside Magneto into a supine position.

“When we talk before, you said… you could help Gambit make tings work.” Remy continued, his fingers fidgeting nervously as he played with the hem of his crop top. “How you gonna help if Rogue already choose you? How I gon’ compete wit Magneto of all people?”

“As I explained before, I have no interest in competition - nor do I wish to force Rogue to make a choice. Given that you are here, I presume you considered my words.” Magneto’s gaze was steady and unwavering.

“Been considered, yeah. But dat don’t make ‘em easier to reconcile, no.”

Magneto ran a coarse hand up Remy’s stomach and under his shirt, eliciting a sharp inhalation from Remy in response. Despite their similar size and stature—identical in height and nearly in weight—Magneto exuded an aura of all-encompassing dominance and strength. Every movement carried with it a sense of purpose and intentionality, from the firm grip of his fingers to the deliberate pressure applied when touching intimately. It was enough to convey a degree of authority and dominance, without crossing the threshold into discomfort.

“I am disinterested in forcing you to do anything you do not wish to participate in,” Magneto spoke, his voice low and measured. “No matter what you may have assumed, Rogue does care about you deeply. It is evident that we both share affection for her.”

With a subtle shift of his hand, Magneto gripped Remy’s waist firmly, pulling their bodies together. “Facilitating the two of you to touch without the barrier of her power would be effortless for me, a mere afterthought. However, I have no desire to be but a third wheel or to ‘share’ that which cannot and should not be treated like a belonging to be passed around.”

Remy’s body trembled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, his mind racing as he tried to process the implications of Magneto’s words. He wished he had chosen to wear something less revealing than gray sweatpants for this visit, something that didn’t tent so easily under the pressure of Magneto’s touch.

“Do you accede?” Magneto’s voice cut through Remy’s thoughts, drawing him back to the present moment.

“Got me too much an envie to fuss. Maybe Magneto make a good cher, yeah?”

“I will interpret that as a yes.” Magneto spoke with a hint of amusement.

“Mais talk about! Got a lot to learn you if you gonna be with Gambit!”

“Very true,” Magneto conceded, wrapping his arms around Remy and pulling him close. “Apropos of nothing, you may call me Erik. In private, at least.”

“I like dat, me,” Remy murmured, nuzzling his face into Erik’s strong chest. He looked forward to when Rogue would return from her trip and couldn’t help but anticipate the surprise that awaited her.

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of their shared moment. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope that he could find happiness in this unconventional arrangement. Remy found himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Erik’s heartbeat beneath his ear. As he succumbed to the embrace of slumber, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought him here.

[optiwashere]

WIP Wednesday

Holy shit, it's actually on a Wednesday this time?

I really wanted to do one of these this week since I've gone a bit rabid on a few WIPs.

I'll post a little bit about each of those WIPs later, some snippets and a blurb about why I'm so excited. But first! Folks to tag! Since I'm so excited for these, I'm gonna tag a lot this time.

If you have anything you want to share WIP writing-wise, please do... @quitefair @bottombatch @siyurikspakvariisis @causticcontemplation @jasminethetransvampire @underworldobsessed @assarivanguard @amorficzna @funwithnix @askweisswolf @linka-from-captain-planet @tief4tief

If you don't want to do this, or have nothing you want to share, feel free to ignore. If anyone else wants to do this, please feel free to consider yourself tagged. Now, onto my obsessions.

WIP 1: New chapter of Nightsongs

After spending some chapters in a kind of angst zone after the relatively light (relatively) first 4-5 chapters, this next chapter is going to be a kind of upswing. There's lots left to do with the AU, so I'm expecting to chug along and write more and more as time permits.

This AU is a lot for me to handle, especially after having so many chapters ready to post and then... falling way behind on writing the chapters afterwards. But it's fanfiction, and we're having fun here. So, who cares? The game's fandom heyday is already over, so at this point I'm just writing whatever feels best to me.

This chapter is mostly done, I think. I'm giving it a few days/a week to sit before I go back to edit it with fresher eyes. Also, we return to Ash's POV!

Lae’zel walked into Ash’s back office without a word on the seventh day and Ash nodded her way without looking up. Papers sat in strewn piles all over the desk, a handful of old incident reports and assessments that still needed working for Wulbren’s accountants. The absolute worst part of the job remained for the year – paperwork – and Ash intended to get them caught up in the hours that remained of her day. It was a useful, meaningful task. It gave her something else to think about. Anything other than green eyes. “We should talk,” Lae’zel said, sitting down without being offered one of the folding chairs in front of the desk. “Aren’t we doing that?” Ash scanned the paper in front of her and quickly jotted down her signature. [...] “You begin working on a van,” Lae’zel said matter-of-factly, counting off on her fingers as she spoke. “You talk to a pretty girl. You suddenly work more often on that van. Then, you disappear inside yourself and act bitter all day because suddenly the girl no longer shows up. There is more to it than you say.” “I think this might be the first time you’ve spoken more than five words to me, you know that?” Ash chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

WIP 2: New chapter of Blades in the Night

The need to write more plot for this has been burrowing in my skull for a long time. I initially stopped myself from writing too much of it because I wanted to do Nightsongs first in its entirety before getting to this, but I think I'm just too impatient for that.

I also love the fact that this fic turned from a simple PWP one-shot into this much more expansive, plotty story that's now pretty important for what I want to do with my babies post-canon. Something about that makes me smile.

Plus, you know how I've been lamenting my inability to write happy endings for certain characters?

Either way, this isn't really complete, but the hardest part is complete and now I just have to start connecting the dots and filling in the blanks. I'd say it's about a third done?

The room filled with the same aura of a distant gaze leveled their way that Shadowheart had felt back in the cloister. Asheera had made an oath to protect Shadowheart then, and the flooding of a dense, real presence had nearly swallowed her whole in the cloister's barracks. A weight of importance sunk down on her shoulders there in Hobb's Hovel as well. A smell like molten metal cooling lilted in the air with a lingering, acrid tang. It tasted of blood in Shadowheart's mouth, as if the forging was tainted with some other foul presence in the mixture. [...] Little could have compared better to that feeling of a weight lifted from her shoulders. Worry disappeared and gave way to earnest joy in Shadowheart, and she thrived on it. She hadn't felt such keen happiness since she'd been so readily accepted into Asheera's family by her parents.

WIP 3: Gauntlet of Shar fic

Wow, I know! I've been talking about writing this fic for so long that it's almost become a sort of mythical never-to-be-slain beast for me. I'm not normally someone that talks about my ideas too often, I just write them before they can flee me.

I tend to also get in my own head about what I "should" be writing in the first place. Frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of writing so many ships, though fear not - I'll still have ideas that can only work with ships that aren't Shadowheart/Asheera. It's just that, for a while, I want to focus back on my loves.

This fic is one of those that I've wanted to finish for months. I know that at this point in the fandom's life cycle, I'm pretty much writing just for the dedicated, lovely folks that still read my stuff and I'm extremely happy to have y'all around! Maybe this will make Light Casts a Shadow ring a little more true for some, maybe it will be just another fic that I post, who knows.

Also, one thing I'm planning on experimenting with for this fic is alternate endings for Fun. This is a fic where the ending hinges on choices that Shadowheart makes in the game, so it's only fitting that I explore what would happen if she made those other choices.

But anywho, enough blabbing. Excerpt time!

Those touches and more, Asheera cherished. She watched in silence as Shadowheart turned her devotions to each of those tasks. Perhaps it was the nature of clerics to give themselves entirely to seemingly mundane tasks much the same Asheera felt compelled to consider her oaths in nearly every conversation, battle, or even moments like Shadowheart carefully buckling a cuisse to her leg with straps of leather at the backs of Asheera's knees. Fingertips trailed against her clothed skin, and Shadowheart stood up once more. "There," she said, "all's taken care of, then. Tell me, how's my handiwork? Be honest. I can handle the criticism." Asheera brought her balled fist to her chest in an arm curl. She flexed the elbow out and tested her shoulders, knees, ankles, and hips for motion. None of the plates caught on one another, and none of the straps across her hands, arms, knees, or chest restricted her. "Perfect," Asheera said at last. "Marvelous work." Shadowheart offered a quick smile. "I'll take a Gondian's compliment on such things any day." "Can't say I would've done a better job." "Ah, there's the honesty I was waiting for. Truly, where would you be without me?"

[seyfertgalaxy]

Collector analysis again! but small.

So, i believe that Collector does not enjoy turning people into puppets. i saw this idea thrown around a bit, and i think i agree with it. He uses more as a "punishment" than anything, really. but a harmless one; one he finds will keep them safe and sound.

Like with Lilith and Hooty! Lilith called King her nephew, something that Collector was not fond of. so, while sending a moon toward her to puppetify her, Hooty jumps in and gets hit instead. so Collector goes back for a second shot to actually get Lilith like intended.

I also was wondering if Hooty didn't do anything wrong, why didnt Collector fix it? Well, i figure theres two reasons for that. One: He needs puppets to play pretend with, and/or Two: Hooty helped Lilith when she had done something wrong(in his eyes).

He has an angry expression while doing this, yet a calm one when explaining how they're safe and not hurt. That Is His Form Of "Discipline". for now, at least.

or with Terra! whenever she insults King, that's whenever he turns her into a puppet. Angry expression, yet again, and his words: "you're not being very nice right now".

And to add on to this being discipline, Terra says this:

"Play along, and you won't get turned into a puppet. do your role correctly. " Also, when he holds up the moon, her reaction is anything BUT glee and cheerfulness. So, he knows it negatively affects people(this was also shown with Lilith's reaction to Hooty).

it also vaguely reminds me of whenever the Collector was in the mirror thingy. he was trapped and couldn't really do anything since he was a shadow. and these people, as puppets, are technically trapped and can't do anything. this one is a stretch, i think, but it makes some sense.

and onto how he speaks about Eda in this scene...

He's speaking about replacing Terra for the "real thing" because who can play Eda better than Eda herself? He clearly has a liking to Eda. He kept Terra around longer out of anyone because she's playing the role of Eda. He tried his best to explain her role to her—multiple times. When he's describing Eda to both Terra and King, he's very passionate about it. Smiling and excited! But he can't play with her because he thinks that she's still the owl beast. I think the awe comes from how King spoke about her to explain "The Owl House Game." Because he clearly had to speak about her to explain the game, as he did with Luz. i wouldn't be surprised if thats how King originally described Eda to Collector, and they just ran with it. or maybe they made that connection themselves based on how King spoke about her! both are plausible.

However, this admiration would not stop him from disciplining her. He says this:

He may have been talking about the Owl Beast in specific, but either way, he was meaning Eda.

Now, i can't say for certain why everyone else was turned into puppets(other than the other adults, because I'd say that was because they were attacking along with some of the students). But these were also his spies, not him himself. though that's what we saw.

And given that this kid would turn someone into a puppet for saying the wrong word, anything was possible! (i saw like two people say he did that because he saw "nephew" as a threat because of Belos and Hunter)

But he obviously doesn't like doing it, and typically only does it whenever he's angry or feels threatened. But hey! it seems to be better than what the other Collectors would do! as seen in the book, i feel like if they were to do something like this, it would end with a lot of actual harm and probably even murder. which does make me nervous for the next episode, but!! we'll see what it actually means, probably

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

Seen lots of talk about this going around lately so thought I'd put the sparknotes of this interview here for posterity.

Baldur's Gate-specific questions:

Swen reconfirms they don't plan to make any DLC or sequels to BG3; they made a start but didn't feel like their hearts were in it. They now have two other games they want to make instead.

When asked if they had plans for a Divinity: Original Sin 3, Swen replied: "Yeah, I can't tell you. No, it will have its proper moment. Hopefully nobody's going to leak it for us, but it's different than what you think it is, but it is still familiar enough for you to recognize that it's something that we are making."

Astarion was originally planned to be a Tiefling.

Ketheric Thorm was intended to be a companion.

Locations that got cut included Hell, Vlaakith's Palace, and Candlekeep (Dx).

BG3 characters now belong to Wizards of the Coast, not Larian.

There were apparently 24 different variations of Shadowheart getting the artifact to you (not sure if this refers to development or the release version of the game).

When asked about how Act 1 was very polished and well-received, but Act 3 had issues, he responded "Yeah. I know. Yeah, one day I'll figure that one out.".

They're currently working with Microsoft and Sony to start rolling out curated mods for console versions of the game.

Epilogue content is still being worked on. They plan to give each ending a full cinematic, and are currently working on the evil endings.

Cross-platform play is still in the works, but it's difficult to implement.

Swen's opinions on the current state of the games industry and general development under the cut:

Lots of righteous rage from Swen about the mass firings in the games industry and how they don't contribute to making good games.

"But because the ones that are making those decisions don't play the games, don't understand the ethos, they don't care about it. They don't understand that fundamental truth that that's in there. It's just, oh, well, it's a technical artist, we can get another technical artist, whatever. Also, who fires their technical artists?!"

He believes that AAA games with massive budgets can be sustainable for the industry because the audience is there, and because these types of games can fuel progression and innovation.

Believes the lists of upsides to early access is way longer than the list of downsides; "it is the model of the future. I mean, it's not only for your mechanics and your balancing, but even your story gets better. You see how players resonate, what they're after."

Swen's stance on AI is that it is a tool to speed up certain processes, but that it couldn't replace the creative elements of development. His current approach to speeding up artistic development is to hire more concept artists and writers, rather than using generative AIs. He does believe that it has a place in the future of game development, though: "I don't buy the full NPC being generated, but most likely everything will feel the same. So I buy more that there's going to be something that's crafted, and then you'll have AI that plugs into it to augment it. And it should be done in such a way that it's invisible, so you don't know that it's shifting around."

Remote work doesn't seem to be feasible for a game of BG3's scale. In their period of working from home, Swen noted that it was a much easier time for senior devs than for the juniors, who needed mentoring, and they had communication issues during this time as well.

[astarionformayor]

I'd like to preface by exclaiming that i would like your (yes your) opinion on this.

Below is a quick thought about DURGE that evolved into more than i originally intended. Also pls don't kill me for the run-on sentences and what-not. I will be referring to durge with she/her pronouns because that's what her pronouns were in my playthrough.:

Ascending Astarion fit my durge playthrough, but I'm over it. I'm not sure if i will do it in another playthrough or not. It depends on the backstory and personality of my character... But when I was in the head of the Bhaalspawn dark urge, I sort of felt like the way she saw murder was scarily casual.... I think it was sort of a misinterpretation on my part, though.

I think now that she probably felt like murder was more akin to how me, as a child with autism and ADHD, felt when i was in a rocking chair or ripping the holes in my nylons bigger. It is the dark "URGE", not the dark "thought."

I actually am not sure if the dark urge /would/ ascend astarion because i think she much prefers to get her hands dirty (at least when she blacks out and kills). Although the actual writer(s) for the character The Dark Urge kinda left her as a blank slate because she had her memories erased, so any behaviors she has outside of when she blacks out and kills can really be anything????

Like you (as durge) are someone who randomly ended up on a nauteloid with no memory of your previous self. The only thing you really are beginning to know about yourself is that you have these dark urges, and then you find out that you seem to be the only one in the group that gets like that. You (as the player) get to choose the personality of Durge beyond that.

After being purged of her powers, if she resists during the quest line in act 3, she still has no memory of her past, and now she no longer has the dark urges. So, who she is at her core would not change. I guess if you want, you could play it like that was the case. Like if after her urges are gone, she suddenly becomes folk-hero like. Idk.

This is a lot of thinkin I've been doing on this. Anyways , idk if anyone will read this, but just LEMME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS.