#lets let them have some nice time before an intense lore drop

[hikkokoro]

blood twins=cool little gremlins

[autisticlee]

I have realized I need more friends, especially a specific type of friend (chill, positive, very nice and gentle, shares interest in my interests, etc) so I've been putting a lot of time and effort and energy into trying to make a new friend, but I don't think it's working D: I genuinely don't know how to do it. I used to ask people if we can be friends but learned thats not correct and even got called creepy for it before...so i'm just exhausting myself for no reason because nothing is being reciprocated the way I want or need it to be.

i'm trying to learn about the person and tailoring my scripts to match them and what they seem to like about people they are friends with. but so far i'm not getting much reaction outside of general kind acknowledgment that all random strangers get. i'm trying so hard not to ramble or rant about anything or be "too negative" like i've been called many times for simply stating a related/relatable fact about myself. i'm trying to ask questions more questions like ive been told to do. i'm saying nice and positive things whenever I get the chance like i always do. i'm doing all the things people have advised me to do when ive asked advice, but it still feels like i'm looking through a window and not allowed to walk through the door! but see everyone else getting invited inside. I genuinely don't know what to do and how to make it better 🥲

when I look back in the past and how I made friends or starter talking to people, it always came from trauma bonding....often it would start from or be carried along by a shared interest, but one of the dominating factors was always trauma bonding and ramling and ranting at each other about the trauma we have gone through that relates to each other. I felt like I needed it at the time and felt like it helped, but now i've reached a point where it's too exhausting to go through repeated exposure to trauma stories and reexperiencing ny own traumas. plus it usually ends in failure and me adding more trauma to my plate because they have issues and lash them out at me, or decide they are upset that I have my own issues they trigger, and I do not want to do that anymore.

I don't want to befriend people through or to trauma bond. I don't want to befriend people who only want to talk about negative things or people who bring out those things in me. I want some positive and chill and fun friends. but I genuinely do not know how else to make friends. I don't know how to do it right. I don't know how to talk to people correctly. I don't know how to do any of this without trauma dumping/ l listening to trauma dumping and using that as the gateway to form friendships.

I don't know how to have friends that don't share same interests either, but I have realized that's only part of it. that part is fine I think. maybe that's the normal part. (it's my autistic intensity that's the "not normal" part and losing friends as soon as one of us loses that interest) but how do I befriend someone positively off of similar interests only, and not drop my dark lore or avoid letting them drop their dark lore and using that as the bridge? I simply can't figure out how to connect with people in any other way than the whole "I understand what you're going through/you're not alone/I'm here for you/this is a safe space you can come to" thing I tried building up my whole life. but that's only been exhausting and leads to dead ends.

I don't know how to form strong and positive connections with other humans, despite following every tutorial and advice I could find. I even tried heavily masking and learned I'm just no good at it, and I can't figure out if i've acted myself out of a personality, or if it's just a dissociative disorder causing me to have like 20 different ones (working with therapist now who is evaluating me for osdd/did because she says my dissociative levels are concerning. and honestly i feel like part if not all of it is due to my negative people experiences....so i really need positive ones!) i've been trying to keep all my rambles and rants and negative thoughts and feelings to this blog only. i'm not here on this blog to make friends. this is purely for me and myself and I. if anyone relates they are welcome to reply/comment or send an ask and share, but i'm not going to pursue a friendship over it.

I only want to accept positive and chill and fun friendships over my special interests and smaller interests (I have a whole other blog for just those) BUT I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO IT. NOTHING ANYONE TELLS ME WORKS. i'm trying so hard to bond over interests with people but just cannot form any connections no matter how hard I try. it remains me being the only one to ever reach out and give (time/energy/attention/etc) while they can easily have 4747373 other friends and people they enjoy and care about and talk to and hang out with. so I don't think it's them. it has to be me. (I've had people saying it's not me, it's the people I try to talk to and I need to find other people. or even "the right people" but i'm not told how to do that or what it means. and i've spent years flipping through people like clothes on a rack and it's so tiring!!!!!)

don't know know what to do or how to do it, but need human interaction and genuine strong connection and can't force self stop craving that 😭😭😭😭😭

[gizm0-gadgetz]

Ok so

This is a thing I wrote. Its outdated now with Gadgets lore I think. Merchant Jerico is owned by @voidselfshipp (shes in an established relationship with jonny) story under the cut. How gadget joins the mechs (not really im changing it but I like how this turned out and I need to get better at sharing my stuff)

    “I think you should join us.” The offer hung in the air, neither of them responding right away. Gadget stayed focused on cleaning up their supplies, taking a moment to move the coals with their tail before stomping the traces of the fire away. Jer was watching them, not wanting to rush them into responding. 

    “You are lovely company Merchant,” They started as they began cleaning the dishes. “However, I'm not. Besides, I don't really do group work.” She took a moment to consider what they had said. 

    “But you have worked with me?” It was a simple enough point that it took them a bit to figure out a response. Their fingers tapped against the pot they were cleaning, dinging softly with each touch. 

    “Yes but we know each other, at least somewhat.” They signed, closing their eyes for a moment. “Why should I join?”

    “I think you'd fit in! It's good to have people who understand.” She hopped off the log she was sitting on and began helping them clean up. “You don't have to stay for long, but just give it a shot? We can drop you off at the next place if you really want.” They took a moment to consider the option. It wasn't like there was any reason they couldn't besides their own reluctance for closeness. “Its not like we can lose each other…so I think its worth getting to know them.” 

   “...tell me about your crew again.” They spoke softly as they focused on cleaning, well aware of how her face lit up. She began to list each member of the group, naming everything she could think of. Some of them sounded interesting; they couldn't deny that. “So, hypothetically, if I joined you-” They casually glanced up from the last dish they were cleaning and packing away. She watched them intensely, clearly invested in the next words they'd say. “What would happen?” 

    “Well you'd have to properly meet with everyone. We'd have to set up a room for you and figure out your place on the ship. There aren't too many rules to go over which helps things go faster.” She took a moment to think it over properly. “Maybe a new outfit? Thats not too much is it?” 

    “What could I even bring to the table? You already have a pilot who seems to be just fine at navigating. I don't think a second navigator would be very helpful.”

    “You could cook!”

    “We don't need to eat.”

    “Yeah but its nice.” They sighed, thinking it over. What else was in the way? 

    “What about your captain? The small creature.”

    “You mean Johnny?” 

    “Yeah. The small creature.” She snickered as they finished packing up. “Feisty man.” They shrugged before brushing dirt off their knees. “Wouldn't he have reservations? It's not like we hit it off.” 

    “Don't you worry about him. I'll take care of it. Does this mean you'll come with us?” Her eyes sparkled with joy. “Please say this means you'll come with us.” They didn't answer right away, staring up at the sky with a slight tilt of their head. 

    “Aren't you a group of…what's it called?” They frowned, snapping their fingers a few times. “BARDS! A group of bards. Storytelling performers.” She blinked a few times, staring at them curiously. 

    “I mean technically yeah. I don't see how that matters though?” 

    “I'm not a performer. I stick to myself and do my own things. I can't sing-” 

    “Oh don't lie!” She cuts them off, ignoring the look they gave her. “I know you can sing. I've seen it! Admit it or not but you move to your own melody, it just comes out most when your alone.” 

    “Right. Sure. Let's say I do sing, which I don't, even if I did, why would I perform with others? I don't work well with others.” 

    “Well you don't have to perform at all. I think it's just a hobby of theirs.” She shrugged. “It's fun to play with them but you shouldn't have to. If anything ill make sure they don't say anything!” She had a mischievous smirk that they couldn't help but roll their eyes at. They grabbed their flask and took a swig of water, thinking over all the information they'd been given. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. If anything it meant more time to hang out with Jerico and she was lovely company, really their only friend in this life. Besides she had mentioned that they would be in a similar boat as themself.

    “Fine.” She shot up like a rocket with an ecstatic look on her face. “For one trip. Okay?” She just smiled at them with a mischievous expression before taking their hand. 

    “Let's go then!” 

    “Hold on! Let me grab my stuff before you start pulling me places-” She just groaned and gestured for them to hurry up. They couldn't help but snicker as they picked everything up. Once they had everything packed away in their bag she grabbed onto them and began pulling them away. It was easy enough to not stumble on the rough terrain but as it got smoother they found themselves struggling a bit more. They entered a clearing where the crew was waiting, presumably their ship must be nearby. 

    “Johnny dear!” Jericho called out as they entered the area. The small man perked up immediately upon hearing his name, looking over with a tilt of his head and tail practically wagging upon seeing her although he seemes conflicted by Gadgets presence. “I need to talk to you, kay?” She gestured away from the group. He frowned slightly, thinking it over before one of the others elbowed him. He glared at them before quickly joining her away from the group, just far enough away so they couldn't be heard. 

    It left Gadget stood alone with the entire group staring at them. It wasn't the first time they'd seen these people, but it was the first time without Jer next to them. They weren't exactly scared nor intimidated by the group, but it made them feel uncomfortable even if they couldn't pinpoint why. There was a wide variety of body shapes and sizes making up the group, each radiating off a different type of energy. Counting them it seemed like there were two missing from what Jerico had told them so many times. Without knowing the names to the faces they couldn't figure out who was missing though. They began to mindlessly bite their lip until it bled, cursing softly when it did so. 

    After a few minutes of painfully awkward silence between the group the duo returned. Johnny was avoiding eye contact, grumbling to himself with a flustered expression. Meanwhile Jer seemed quite content, almost smug about it. She joined Gadget again as Johnny went to talk to the crew. 

    “What did you do?” They asked immediately, eyeing her with suspicion. 

   “Don’t worry about it. You get to come with us!” She grinned, pulling them into a hug. Their spikes shot up for a moment but she knew to keep her hands away from the spine so nothing happened before they slotted back into place. They took a deep breath before giving a half hearted hug back and pushing her off. 

   “Right. Cool.” Maybe part of them had been hoping that he'd say no so they could have backed out with no hard feelings but now they were in too deep. Some of the Mechanisms were looking at them as Johnny presumably explained the situation. “This is happening i guess…” Really they didn't know how to feel. They hadn't worked with a group in centuries and these people would be so different from what they had known. At least they were good at hiding their nervousness as the ship landed and she led them in. 

    They passed a large bronze man inside and Gadget swore they saw him fiddle with his hat as he watched them go past. She hummed happily as they walked, clearly knowing the layout by heart. It was obvious to them how out of place they were. They fit in the group in theory, but in practice they could see just how out of place they were by the movements they saw out of the corner of their eye. Clearly everyone here knew each other quite well and they were suddenly in the way. 

    “Where are you leading me exactly?” They asked after a bit. 

    “Just to my room for now.” She hummed, not missing a beat. They frowned slightly before just nodding. At least it would be somewhere less alien to them as they knew her quite well. “I'll give you a tour and stuff when we're all the way up. There's no rush.”

    “Alright…if you say so.” They decide not to question it. The Merchant was someone they could trust, they had collaborated many times. There wasn't anything to be worried about. Keeping quiet wasn't too hard, they weren't much of a talker in the first place and it seemed Jer knew they were trying to process everything. They did try to take in all the details they could as they traveled through the ship but it didn't tell them much.

    “Here we are! C'mon in!” She smiled, gently pulling them into a room and shutting the door behind them. It was a decent amount of space for a one person room, certainly much better than some of the places they had stayed. There were various projects sitting around and they could see a few boxes of yarn in the corner. She took a seat on the bed and looked up at them. “See? Not so bad.” 

    “This place is massive.” They finally say after a minute of silence. “This whole ship I mean. It can't be easy to keep this all up.” 

   “Well yeah that's why we each have our own jobs.” She shrugged, moving to sit fully on the bed and crossing her legs. “Its like chores.” 

    “Right…that would take some getting used to.” They sighed and moved to sit down when the door suddenly burst open. They startled and ended up stumbling right into her bed, rolling over quickly before their spikes pierced the blankets. “What the hell!?”

    “Hullo Merchant!” They looked to the door to see one of the band members with a smile on its…oddly wooden face.  “I saw we have a new friend! Who's this chap?” They did not like when it looked right at them, fully aware of how their tail flicking revealed that feeling. Jerico just laughed. 

    “Hi Soldy!” She smiled at it as it turned its attention back to her with a tilt of its head. “This is Gadget, they'll be staying with us for a little bit.” 

    “Oh goodie!” It clapped its hands a few times, clearly more excited than the others had seemed. 

    “Gadget, this is Toy Soldier.” She smiled, gesturing to it. 

    “Right. The wooden one. Thats really its name? You guys can't think of anything else?” 

    “It likes its name.” She shrugged and looked over to it again. “Was there something you needed?” 

    “Nope! I just wanted to say hullo! So hullo!” It smiled, certainly quite expressive for being made out of wood. “Jonny seemed a bit peeved you wouldn't happen to know why would you?”

    “Ah he's probably just jealous he might lose some of my attention.” She snickered, elbowing Gadget with a smirk. “Why don't you tell him to come here?” 

     “Oki doki!” It saluted before turning around and walking off, leaving the door wide open. Gadget stared at the door for a bit before looking at Jer again as their spines clicked back into place. 

    “What's bringing him here gonna do?” 

    “You'll see!” She just giggled before laying back on her bed. They hesitated for a moment before following suit, staring up at the ceiling. This whole experience was so odd and it was only just beginning. After a few minutes she sat up again and looked to the door. 

    “You called?” They shifted slightly so they could see Johnny was leaning on the doorframe, clearly attempting to look cool despite the fact his tail was wagging. Jerico got off the bed and pulled him into a hug, running her fingers through his hair. He seemed to lean into it, very quietly purring as his hair was played with. They couldn't help but snicker. He immediately shot up with a red face. “Oi! When did you get here!?” 

    “Been here the whole time hoss.” They just shrugged, sitting up and leaning against the bed frame. “Is there a problem with that Captain?” They said it sarcastically but he didn't seem to pick up on it as he perked up upon hearing the word captain. 

    “Finally some-Hey! Stop that!!” He tried to glare at jer as she scratched his ears. 

    “Why? You're so soft!” She pouted, continuing to mess with him anyways. 

    “I…” He forced himself to look away before grumbling something about a reputation. She just smiled and kissed him on the head before stepping back. Once he finally managed to stop being so red he turned his attention back to Gadget, studying them with a slight tilt of his head. “What is it you do exactly?”

    “Depends if people hire me.” They shrugged. “For the most part I'm just a nomad. Sometimes I make maps and sell those. Once or twice I've been asked to lead groups through dangerous terrain. If anything bad happened to them…well I had nothing to do with it. Probably.” They couldn't help but grin at the way he shifted at the information. It was hard to read his body language considering how good he was at making himself look bigger. “Other than that…I'm a chef.” 

    “A chef. How helpful.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes before sighing. “Right, well this isn't a taxi service so guest or not you will have to help with stuff.” 

    “I'm hurt you would think so little of me.” They bit back with a smirk. His eyes narrowed, staring at them with a bitter expression before shaking his head with another sigh. 

    “I'll speak with Ashes about getting you a room. We should have something that'll work.” He grumbled to himself as he turned around and left the room, once again leaving the door wide open. 

    “Does nobody here know how to close a door?” They laugh, getting up to close the door themself. “I don't think he likes me very much.” 

   “He's just like that. He'll warm up, promise.” They just shrugged and took a seat on the bed. Might as well learn about the people they were going to be staying with. 

■□■□■□■□■□■

    A room was set up surprisingly fast, it made them wonder if Jerico had been pushing for this for a while. They didn't bother to think about it too much as they shrugged their bag off and started digging through the few personal things they did have. It wasn't a lot and the room was quite simple but the thought was very nice. It wasn't very often that they slept in a proper nice bed. 

    The covers were soft, that was for sure. The whole place was quite clean and it made them feel significantly more dirty. There wasn't much for them to do in their room which meant they would have to go out and converse with the other residents; it just wasn't something they were looking forward to. Ashes had been nice, not that they had spoken for too long, just long enough to get situated. They weren't particularly looking forward to getting to know Jonny, he seemed a little full of himself. The Toy Soldier had seemed nice if a little clueless on personal space and boundaries. Everyone here seemed like they had so much energy and they weren't sure they could keep up with it. 

    Jerico had shown them around a bit and they remember seeing a kitchen that clearly didn't get too much use. Honestly it wasn't that surprising, these people didn't seem like they knew how to cook much. Maybe that would be a good way to show that they could be helpful. Really there was no reason that they had to prove themself, they were just here because Jer had been so nice. With a sigh they picked up their cooking supplies and headed to the kitchen. 

    They didn't have much in terms of supplies, mostly pantry goods but that was fine. Preserves were easy enough to work with and even if they couldn't make a proper meal everyone enjoyed snacks. Thinking about it they weren't sure all these people could eat but that didn't matter too much. It just meant more for them. 

    Really it was easy to fall back into a groove even though it had been a while since they'd worked in a proper kitchen. It gave them a lot of time to think about everything they had been told about the crew and what they had seen with their own two eyes. After deciding to make simple cookies everything just kind of fell into place and they worked with a simple rhythm. 

    The most interesting thing about the group seemed to be the ship itself. A sentient ship didn't seem that crazy of an idea, but they weren't sure how it worked. For now it seemed the best idea was to just be respectful to everyone they ran into and of the place they were staying. Yes, that was a good idea. They took a deep breath and put the cookies in the oven, setting a mental timer before closing their eyes for a moment to focus on their other senses. All they could really hear was faint chattering between groups and the occasional pair of footsteps. 

     “Hey.” They couldn't help but jump at the sudden voice. There hadn't been loud enough footsteps to suggest that someone had entered the room. They took a moment to calm themself, making their spines lock back into place before turning around to face the owner of the voice. She was shorter than they were, not by too much but just enough that it was noticeable. “Jumpy?” She asks with a tilt of her head. 

    “No,” They answered after a moment. “Not quite.” It was hard to pinpoint who they were staring at as it wasn't one of the members they'd already run into. “Is it Natasha?” She blinked a few times and looked at them curiously. 

    “Nastya.” 

    “Oh. I'm not sure how I messed that up frankly…” They sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Never been particularly good at names i guess. Yknow what it doesn't matter. Do you need something?” Trying to study her face proved difficult.

   “No. Just thought I smelled burning and wanted to make sure Toy Soldier isn't lighting things on fire in here again.” They just raised an eyebrow while she responded with a shrug. “It doesn't know how to cook. I overheard that you do though, a good change of pace really.”

    “I do know how to cook, yes.” Using their tail they pulled the pan out of the oven, carefully balancing it as they made sure there was a spot to set it down. Nastya was peering over their shoulder, they could feel it. 

    “Baking huh? Where'd you get all this stuff?” 

    “Some of it was here already, most of it came out of my stash though. I don't have much left though, just a few jars of preserves.” They sighed as they set the tray down, positioning it to ease cooling. “It's really not that interesting. You can leave now.”  She didn't answer right away, taking a seat on a barstool and leaning over the counter. 

   “I'm tired of hanging with the boys so if you don't mind I'd like to sit with you.” It wasn't a crazy request and they knew they should at least try to be nice since they were just a guest. They sighed as they started cleaning up what little mess they had made. 

    “I mean…fine. It's not like you're going to get anything all that entertaining.” They decided to focus on what they were doing instead of looking back at Nastya. Silence filled the air for a good few minutes as they focused on cleaning. She seemed content just watching them for the moment. 

    “What type of cookies did you make?” She asks after a while causing them to stop what they were doing. It wasn't easy to describe as they had just made the basic cookie recipe they'd used for so long now. 

   “Simple ones…easy to top with various things or enjoy plain.” 

    “What kind of stuff do you like on them?” They groaned quietly, really regretting saying that she could stay nearby. 

    “Typically I use jam since I almost always have some on me. Preserves are quite easy to make and keep well. If I'm in the right area I will pick up some chocolate.” Following her out of the corner of their eye they watched as she hopped off the stool and grabbed a cookie. It was still warm but cool enough to enjoy. She said nothing as she took a seat again. “Sure you want to eat that? Might be kind of bland.” All they got in response was a shrug. With a sigh they reached into their bag and pulled out three jars, the last of the jam from their prior batch. “Apple, blackberry and strawberry,” They explained with a gesture to each. “I don't have anything else unfortunately since I was convinced to stay when I really should have been going to restock.”

     Deep down they knew rambling like this was a bad idea but for some reason they couldn't bring themself to stop. Maybe it was just because Jer had described Nastya as a good listener. She smiled and hopped off the stool once more to grab a few utensils for the jam. They continued to watch her every move as she put a little bit of each jam on the single cookie, presumably to try each one at once.

    “Strawberry will be the sweetest and blackberry the most tart. Apple sits in the middle with a slight cinnamon flavor.” They pointed out as she took a bite. There wasn't much else to say about it all. “How often do people join your crew?” 

    “Not all that often.” She shrugged once she had finished her cookie. “I'd say before you Jerico was our last member.” 

    “I'm not staying,” They corrected with a slight frown. “Just visiting. Merchant is a good friend of mine and I want to make her happy.” Nastya just stared at them with a slight tilt of their head before smirking. 

    “Right, of course.” After a moment she hopped off the stool, brushing crumbs off her shirt. “I quite liked the blackberry.” They decided to ignore her almost mischievous expression and just nod instead. 

    “Thanks…” 

   “Would you like me to tell the others about these?” She gestured to the tray with a smile. It took them a moment to decide if they wanted to explain it all again before sighing. 

    “Yeah sure. Might as well. Can't eat these all myself.” Nastya said nothing else as she left the kitchen, leaving them alone with their thoughts. Mostly about why she had seemed so certain that they would be joining the group. It was just a visit, they didn't plan on staying any longer. 

    There wasn't much time to think it over as some of them filtered in to try the cookies. They didn't bother explaining it too in depth this time, letting a few of them know before leaving the kitchen before they could be bugged too much. There was much to think about and for the first time in a while it felt like they could actually rest around people. At the very least this would be an interesting endeavor. 

[mllemaenad]

Can you please tell us about Tessa?

Oh - sure, if you like. :)

I don't think you've played any Fallout 76? I'm not really a multiplayer person myself, but I can't resist a look at new lore so ... here I am. In terms of gameplay it's fairly similar to Fallout 4, so it's not too bad. But I tend to find other people running around me while I'm trying to read the terminals very distracting. I appreciate they've as much right to be there as I have but ... oh how I wish this were a single player game.

Anyway: Tessa. Fallout 76's story commences 25 years after the bombs drop meaning that, like in Fallout 4, your character is (or at least can be) a first generation survivor. Tessa was 16 when the Great War began and ended, making her 41 when the vault finally reopened.

Her father was a gifted engineer – he was part the team that worked on the ill-fated Excavator Power Armour project for the Garrahan Mining Company before the war – and her mother was a journalist at the Charleston Herald. She also had a younger brother, Simon. Simon liked baseball and The Silver Shroud, and while he was not as good at school as Tessa herself was, he was a nice kid. Enthusiastic about the things he loved. Kind.

The 2070s were a weird time to be a teenager. Tessa scored well on tests and had read well above her age level for her whole school career ... but tended to go blank when asked what she wanted to do with her life. A lot of kids were like that. There were the food riots and the New Plague, and everyone said that nuclear war was inevitable. Worrying about what you were going to do when you grew up seemed weird when the general consensus seemed to be that you weren't going to. And if you did grow up, what you were probably going to be was drafted.

She was good at maths, and her parents were sort of ... prodding her towards following her father into engineering, mostly because you could sometimes get a deferment to finish your degree, and maybe put off dying on the front lines for a while. But honestly? She was more interested in writing, like her mother, and more and more journalists were being treated as enemies of the state, unless they toed a very fine party line. It certainly wasn't a career that would save you.

When the bombs fell they were "escorted" to Vault 76. For their safety. To be more precise, she and her father were escorted. There was no place in 76 for her mother or her brother, and the soldiers made it quite clear that they would shoot if either of them even attempted to get in the truck. So that was that. She never saw either of them again. No idea if they died in the aftermath of the blasts, or from the Scorched plague, or if they fled Appalachia and are alive and well somewhere else.

Growing up in Vault 76 was a ... troubling experience. All vaults – at least all the control ones, or the ones where the experiment wasn't immediately lethal – must have been odd, because of the tremendous loss of life caused by the Great War. Everyone had to be grieving. But in 76 ... well, her story was far from unusual. Most families ... there was a parent missing, or a sibling or a spouse. There were the people who'd been deemed worthy to live, and the ones who'd been left behind.

Her father died of a heart attack two years after the Great War. There was a lot of that, too, in the first few years. Heart attacks, strokes, conditions that just flared up and took people away. People who just couldn't live with the survivor guilt. A lot of the people who didn't die got really intense about how brilliant they were – probably to justify why they got to live. There's a whole thing about the overseer implementing awards ceremonies to keep people in line.

Tessa herself ... mostly felt like she was marking time. She was brought in as a "gifted kid", but she hadn't even finished high school, let alone accomplished anything meaningful in her life. Sometimes she wondered if Simon hadn't been just days away from discovering some incredible talent, and then he would have been there instead of her. For a while she tried running a little Vault 76 newspaper, about the happenings and accomplishments of the residents, but she gave it up after a couple of years. People would shun her for months for picking someone else for a front page article, and it just wasn't worth the misery. She wrote stories and poetry, sometimes.

Other vaults talk about "Reclamation Day", but 76 was a control vault – so this wasn't just bullshit. Everything in the vault was either killing time, or preparing for the day they would reclaim America. Even the people who had kids seemed to look at it as an investment in the future. She didn't. She wasn't the only one. There was a cohort of residents, mostly people who'd been older teenagers when the bombs dropped, who were just ... distant from all the propaganda. They'd spent all their childhoods thinking they were going to die, and and they couldn't just let it go. The overseer did let it go and mostly let them be; apparently the more enthusiastic residents were breeding like rabbits.

And when the door opened ... well, it's been a long time since I've played. I started from the beginning, and there's content here I haven't seen yet. But I'm very familiar with the first main quest, and it involves following the fates of the people who stayed outside. That's weird for Tessa too. It's like reading the end of a book 20 years after you started it. It's not like she knew Sam Blackwell personally, but she did know who he was; she had met Quinn Carter – it's not like they were close, but she was a lady who worked with her mom. And getting the inside details of how the mining competition really ended? Oh, that was infuriating.

In her heart of hearts, she wishes she'd been able to stay outside. Oh, she knows the plague would have likely got her, or if not that the Christmas Flood, but it feels like these people really lived, while she hid from the world and from her neighbour who was mad that she didn't want to do another story on his fungus experiment.

But on the plus side – well, she's out now. And the world has ended twice. So maybe it's time to start living.

[mushiewrites]

*jumps into the spotlight* Yes please, me! (Writer's block has mowed down my will to write)

Mean and intense, as wished:

I have an AU (I call it the Soulbound AU) where gods and mortals are connected by souls, and can feel and detect each others tickle spots, so they can happily tickle each other, but not without tickling themselves too. Imagine George just asking someone to wreck him to high heaven in order to get back HD, nervously giggling at the fact he's willingly subjected himself to this just for payback on HD's own antics.

DreamXD tickle book. Whoever's name goes in there gets some seriously intense tickles, digging right into that one spot that is known to make them scream >:D

4K in general. I mean, seriously... he's a mean one, Mr Grinch. *ba dum tss*. In all seriousness, this guy is the tallest of them all *thanks @covenofwives* and he can easily lift someone off the ground to just claw at their ribs without mercy.

And finally, my boy Sam :D this guy's a canon redstone whizz. So I can imagine him in a serious ler mood, and plus Dream has gotten on his nerve a little too much one particular day. Annoyed warden + redstone knowledge = tickle machine programmed to hit all of Dream's spots that will get him screeching in mirth, one after the other >:)

I hope these were okay <3

holy shit okay here we go I’m kind of sick and loopy but hey why not answer now 🤪

1 - firstly, this AU is absolutely incredible, I absolutely need to hear more about that whenever you post more details!!! but……george asking someone to wreck him so he can get back at HD??? okay this is amazing for multiple reasons. the first being that we’ve all pretty much established george has such a hard time asking for tks anyway, but asking someone to wreck him? that’s just unheard of. So he goes to someone he knows will tear him into a million teeny tiny little lee pieces - XD 😵‍💫 and oh boy does XD know george’s (and HD’s) spots like the back of their hand 🫠 by the time XD is done, george is completely exhausted and HD has kicked around the blankets on his bed so much that he’s simply left in a huge hole of clouds

2 - it’s funny bc @emmadoodlewrites actually had a similar idea!!! (i drew it 😎). but holy shit. imagine dream is just minding his own business, going around collecting resources and food and materials. XD is feeling rather devious and decides that dream needs to pay for all the times that he’s pranked them, and so they write dreams name in the book. Dream fucking convulses, the wood he was carrying dropping to the ground, followed by his own body as he arches into the air because his tummy is being relentlessly tkled by seemingly no one. this goes on for minutes, agonizing tkly squeezes and strokes to his poor poor tummy until XD poofs before the panting boy, scooping up the pile of lee and helping him back home (all while giving him cute lil head scratchies and telling him how good he did)

3 - don’t even get me started on 4K. First of all yes, all of the bravos go to @covenofwives bc the way coven writes 4K is just…..insane in the absolute best way. 4K is one of my favorite lers to read and write for, because he’s just so playful but he also knows what he’s capable of. If he wants to be nice and let someone giggle and squirm, he will :D! …..but if he decides he wants to be cruel? with his strength? size? claws? the lee doesn’t stand a chance.

4 - tk machines Tk Machines TK MACHINEEEEEES!!!!!!!!! hello yes hi hello i LOVE tk machines. now i don’t know a lot about lore but i know sam and i know he invents shit and holy cow can this guy invent a tk machine. something that randomly popped into my head was just a false sense of security. dreams most tkly spots are his tummy and bellybutton and his back. (he has more than just those but, those are the ones that stand out to me). Sam tells dream he made a machine that can help mend scars and muscle, and he needs someone to test it out. little does dream know that this is 100% a big fat lie, and it’s literally just a tk torture device for dream.

(okay I didn’t mean to write everything under this but I couldn’t stop rambling so…. warning bc intense tks / tk machine / kind of small spaces?)

the machine looks like a thin square box made of some sort of glass or plastic material. it’s see through, and he can see all kinds of hands, rollers and gears in the front and back of the walls. sam unlocks a latch on the side and suddenly the box is opening, sam motioning for him to step inside. there are two little outlines of where his feet should be and sam guides him to stand in place. the box ends just above dreams shoulders, and sam pushes him back until his neck is slotted against a curve at the top of the box, no doubt made for where he would be held in place. on either side of the neck hole, there were two more dips, one for each of his wrists. sam closes the box and latches it, leaving dreams neck and wrists stuck in place, unable to pull them down or push them out. the box is thin, so dream can’t kick, he can hardly bend his knees before they hit the glass in front of them. sam smirks and hits a button, setting off a series of clicks and gears turning before suddenly rollers with tiny bumps and grooves are slowly making their way up and down his back, making him arch forward slightly with a squeak. he looks at sam with wide eyes and realizes sam knows exactly what it’s doing to him. he realizes that’s what the purpose of this machine was for. and when dream goes to open his mouth, he instead lets out a shriek before falling into helpless laughter as a same type of roller now is making its way up and down dreams tummy, the little grooves somehow always managing to push their way into his lil bellybutton and make him squeal. sam just giggles and walks over to dream and goes “sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet.” and with the push of another button, mechanical arms extend, only adding to the excruciatingly tklish feeling…

star u have officially released my demons i hope ur happy (i am very happy thank u i adore u)

[firespirited]

Well, it's been a day. One of the ways my body lets me know i've overdone it (asides from pain and bp drops) is gastrointestinal distress which is actually quite smart at getting actually listened to as I'm forced to stay close to the toilet and not do anything physically strenuous that might provoke smth.

But hey Lily has perked up so much after her haircut over two days, she's back to her old mischief and recycling bin thievery. Worth it.

Readmore for ramblings

Up to episode 39 of Thundercats (plus the anointment trials of Lion-O) and I can't seem to find a skippable/key episodes list. Lots of discussion about production order and orders to avoid discrepancies but none that have, lets say, a sort of quality meter. I'm not sure how many times I can watch "old enemy finds new weapon"/"new enemy turns up out of nowhere" to attack the Thundercats. I'm interested in alliances, third earth lore, character episodes. There are only so many times you can watch Mumm-ra's extended magical girl transformation before it gets grating. This was absolutely not made for binge watching more than two at a time.

I'm thinking I might have to make one myself, there are recaps already but no table of new lore/character exploration vs basic filler (but may have a fun villain). I'm thinking of taking notes and if I can tolerate watching more Thundercats, sticking it on a neocities page.

I once printed a star trek TOS episode list and marked which ones had Kirk use seduction as a way to save his crew, in which ones he actually had romantic feelings and the ones without (at least if we deliberately pretend he's straight) . I regret not sticking that somewhere online before throwing it away. Kirk has few real romances and mostly uses his masculine wiles to save his crew. His romantic relationships are with smart independent women, his grand gestures are either for Spock, the ship herself or other core crew.

Today I did something I'd wanted to do for a while which is update the my crew 'mugshot' folder as there were dolls that have gone to new homes and a bunch I hadn't added yet. I snapped some quick photos but have about 7 more to do tomorrow.

The google spreadsheet is up to date but spread across 'my dolls: work in progress' -organized by work needed- and my crew' -organized by doll line-.

I also noticed i'd lost a bunch of ooak photos from the online galleries *and* the offline copy (the thumbnails were there but not the full size) and found them in the 2018 file backups. Not sure how that happens but grateful for file history.

Gunky bundle was cancelled by the seller. Oh well. Maybe that's for the best. It did have aqua fairytopia seapixie(?) - there are still a few I hope to get someday: jewellia with the blue translucent limbs, pale blue seapixie, ceo pink purple and blue fantasy skintone fairies with nice face alignment. Skipper face Kareena (blue) from starlight adventures. But I don't mind if the hunt takes another ten years.

Totally not in the mood to dig out the big box of 'barbie bundle' from under the bed and find a more photogenic approach.

The main problem is that usually I can sell at a big discount because I made money back on the bundle it came in so I zero the price cell. This new lot has quite a few dolls bought solo for my personal projects or were part of bundles with customs that haven't sold yet. It adds up.

My very real fear is that if I get out the box, I won't be able to resist keeping Pretty Girls, DCSHG, and a Snow white. OTL

It might have to wait until the SADS lifts to be more level headed and at peace with this hiatus for slow lower back rebuilding. I can't contemplate rerooting or other sewing/intense manual work for more than an hour at a time until the end of summer at this rate. It is what it is.

The little reorganisations and adding photos is sparking joy, not always in the moment but sometimes later, I'll see them and go oooh I have such treasures!

If you've slogged through this and read this far you deserve a treasure too, hope something that makes you feel happy when you see it or wear it comes your way this week. 💚💚💚

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[hakuoyuki]

Hi Satomi! nice to meet you

First of all, I really appreciate your distribution to ikemen fandom. Especially on Ikeprince, since thanks to you, I decided to install jp app, not only eng one. Actually, I understand jp ,but not enough to understand the whole thing without a guidance in the language that I have better understanding (English). So, yeah now I’m hooked on ikeprince lol.

And, have you read the act2? It’s amazing hearing the new characters’ voice! This act gives us so many new lore. If you already finished, can you give an opinion?

Ok last thing, I found your twitter account accidentally while searching for ikeprince stuffs. Do you mind if I follow or dm you? cuz I spend my time on twitter more than tumblr. If you feel uncomfortable, pls tell me and sorry for making you feel like that.

Hello! Join me on IkePri JP lmaoo 🤝🏻

I read the prologue for Act 2 yes! IkePri's prologue really is amazing given how both Act 1 and Act 2 prologues are 10 parts long each and they're both fully voiced as well!

The Act 2 prologue is really devoted to the Act 2 suitors (Sariel, Rio, Gilbert, Keith, and Silvio) with some of Leon's and Chevalier's cameo. Yves, Licht, Nokto, and Luke didn't showed up but there was mentioned of them toward the end by Keith, Silvio, and Gilbert.

First of all, I won’t be translating the prologue because That’s Too Much it’s so long... But basically, the start of Act 2 prologue happened about a week after the end of Act 1 prologue. The story here didn’t continued from the ending of any of the Act 1 suitors’ routes but rather it continued directly from a week after the end of Act 1 prologue, but through out the prologue multiple days have passed by and you could say by the end of the Act 2 prologue, it's already half a month in from the time MC became Belle.

However, in Act 2 prologue, MC have yet to choose a king. So in Act 2, just like Act 1, it's still MC having to complete her duty as Belle and choose the next king of Rhodolite. The difference with Act 1 is that, here there is an added condition of doing so without this fact being exposed to the 3 foreign princes who had came to Rhodolite and decided to stay here after they strut in like they own the place...😂 (That last bit was a joke but also not. That really was the energy they gave)

In the Act 2 prologue, Sariel told MC he's going to protect her. And in the case that she's found out to be Belle and the Previous King's death is exposed..... he's going to take responsibility for this himself.

.

As for my opinion on the prologue... let me first say throughout the entire Act 1 prologue during my first read through, I find Sariel to be so super creepy he scares me especially his creepy smile. But a year and a half in, after getting to know him more, my impression of him has softened up a whole bunch.

Why am I pointing that out? Because through out the entire Act 2 prologue, if I may be very honest, Gilbert fucking scare the crap out of me. Especially during part 8 of the prologueーー the pressure I felt was so intense likeー holyー I’m honestly not surprised MC couldn’t get herself to oppose Gilbert at all and had to go along with him becauseー me too, MC. Me too. Cold sweats be running down my spine as I read. ....Just thinking back to it is giving me the chills. IkePri JP, your writing, I’m honestly amazed.

ー

Back tracing to Part 6 of the prologue a bit, Rio “accidentally tripped” and spilled champagne on Silvio. When this happened, Silvio immediately let go of MC to glare at the person to spill the champagne on him stained his clothes instead

Silvio: Aa? bastard, you think this can end with just an apoloーー

Silvio: ...........You

Silvio: ........What's the meaning of this, bastard

This scene. This very scene. The way Silvio cut his own sentence short when he set his eyes on Rio. The way his voice dropped. His changes in his expression as he said that. Like, damn. Silvio’s face was so shocked when he saw Rio before that shocked turned into intense displeasure. Gosh, the execution of this was👌

ー

Also damn, hello Silvio, your manners where. Next morning after meeting MC, he just suddenly waltz into MC’s bedroom after kicking the door open.

Silvio: Yo, woman. We met yesterday.

Gilbert: Barbarous as always eh, Silvio. The door isn't something to be kicked open though?

That scene really was something.

ー

I’m making my commentary really out of sequence here but during the start of the prologue, Sariel was telling MC about the foreign princes who will be arriving in a few days. When he did so, he told her how Keith is the next king of Jade. It had already been decided that Keith is going to be King because Jade has no other princes but him. Nothing of this sort was mentioned about Gilbert and Silvio.

However, by the time I finished reading the part where MC actually met all the foreign princes in person... the first thought that immediately came into my mind was... “Maybe Sariel should've told MC before hand what the foreign princes looks like.” 😂 😂 😂 😂

During the scene when MC first met Keith, at first he was so meek. Super meek. But then it was like his switch suddenly got flipped out of the blue he turned into his beast-mode and it was as if his personality did a complete 180. What shocked me most was his expression. Did not expected Keith to be someone who can make the sort of face he madeー

One of those is not like the others.

By the way, Keith normally uses “kimi” to say “you” but Beast-Keith had a pronoun switch to “omae” (a much rougher way to say “you”). No idea how ENG is going to handle this subtle-not-so-subtle switch but the way he speaks completely changed with his personality.

ー

Lastly, let me just share what my JP friend said after reading the prologue. “Putting Gilbert aside, after seeing evil Keith... Silvio seems like a cheerful puppy in comparison”

Honestly, I won’t be surprised if the three foreign princes all turns out to be different varying degrees of yandere

.

.

ーーーー

Regarding my Twitter account... Sure sure, go ahead 😂

I am indeed more active on Twitter than here as well (more like I uses Tumblr and Twitter for different purposes.) I don't mind if you follow me there / DM me ^^

Be it here or there it takes me time to reply because of how long it take me to type stuff so apologies in advance...💦

Also, I rarely post art on my Tumblr anymore but Twitter is where I always post them so there's also that 👌🏻

[fictionplumis]

I see your “Roche is secretly a half-elf” and raise you “Shrodingers Roche”. 

Half the things he does is just so Aen Seidhe that when it gets to the point where he’s forced to cooperate with the Socia’tael for the benefit of everyone, like we all want to happen, the elves are just like, “Okay, he has to have Elder Blood. Humans aren’t normally like that, especially humans like him, who revel in violence, murder, and bloodshed. I mean, he doesn’t know who his father is, so...” 

And then Roche turns around and says or does something that contradicts the theory completely and all the elves throw their hands up like, “Nope, he’s a dh’oine.”

-- Roche likes being up high places, both because there’s a tactical advantage but also because he just does. He’s a Blue Stripe, he knows how to climb a tree like a Squirrel, and yes, sometimes he will do it just to sit in the damn tree because at least there he has some peace and quiet sometimes and can observe the surrounding area better. 

-- He hates jumping through the branches chasing down some Socia’tael member who won’t do the decent thing and just let themselves be shot from the trees by a crossbow or come down themselves to get their asses handed to them in a proper fight. Fuck that. He will drag that elf from the tree by their ankle on sheer principal to kill them on the ground. You know, the only sensible place to fight. 

-- He’s really good with a bow. Ves is better than him with a crossbow and is quickly catching up to his skill with a regular bow, but for the moment he can still outshoot her if they’re both using traditional bows. His aim is also damn good with a crossbow for a human, Ves is just better. 

-- Hates using a bow. Just fucking hates it. Iorveth or someone will preach about the benefits a bow has over a crossbow and Roche will go, “Oh yes, well my opionion is,” then he flips the bird and leaves to go shoot shit with his crossbow. But of course he would rather use a sword, or a knife, or just straight up start fucking people up with his mace because who needs poise or grace when you can just bust their skull in with a mace? 

-- When he explained how the Blue Stripes were so hard to ambush without Roche figuring out their location seconds before the ambush, what he describes sounds oddly like he’s tuning into the feeling of the forest. He claims it’s a feeling, like the trees are holding their breath, like there’s a charge in the atmosphere, a drop of pressure on a beautiful sunny day before a bad storm. And what human can feel the natural world around them that strongly and not have a drop of Elder Blood there? 

--Then they watch him pass up five different medicinal herbs on his way to pick some poison mushrooms that aren’t deadly if cooked, but will cause mild stomach pains nonetheless. And Roche is like, “It’s fine, because it’s food that doesn’t kill anyone and doesn’t cut into our rations. Who cares about some mild abdominal cramping? Ves goes through that once a cycle and she’s fine. My unit never complained about them before besides the one person who died before we realized we needed to cook them, but no one liked him anyway.” 

-- He likes looking up at the stars, which Iorveth found particularly endearing. Of course, as a Commander and someone who travels a lot, Roche would need to know how to navigate by them, but laying on his back at night looking up at them twinkling overhead isn’t navigating, and Roche even knows some of the lore behind the constellations, even if the lore he knows is heavily changed to fit human beliefs when they had once been elven stories. 

-- Roche can identify the Guiding Star and knows that it’s part of a ladle, but he doesn’t get how it’s a ladle. He can’t see the ladle. He finds the star because he recognizes the pattern of the other stars around it but they don’t look like a fucking ladle. And he knows those three stars over there are the belt of a hunter but that does NOT look like a hunter with a bow. He cannot for the life of him understand how some people saw those dots in the sky and went, “Ah yes, that looks like an archneas.” Don’t try to show him and point it out star by star, don’t try to draw him a picture and explain it, he won’t get it. He doesn’t see it. He thinks people that do are a little touched in the head. 

-- His ears are sensitive. 

-- He claims that’s pretty normal for humans and they aren’t even slightly pointy.

-- When he wants to, he can move incredibly silent and blend in well with the forest despite being bright fucking blue. There is a kind of grace about him, too. All of those things are too well done for most skilled humans.

-- He’s big. He’s bulky. He has to try at being silent. Body hair. Also he would rather not fight with grace, he’d rather just wail on someone with his fists and taste blood in his mouth.

-- He rarely dreams, and when he does, they’re intense. 

-- All the dreams he has can easily be explained by PTSD. 

-- Roche does actually find peace in being in nature. When he’s alone. When he’s not looking over his shoulder for threats. And he’s very good at just being in the middle of the woods and doing things. It’s something he never admits to anyone because it just never really comes up. 

-- If given the choice between being in the middle of the woods, or in a city with a fucking bed and roof over his head, he’ll pick the bed ANY DAY. 

-- He’s actually a very clean person if given the choice. He likes baths, especially hot baths because they ease his aching muscles. And he prefers his clothing looking nice and neat, like he just stepped out of the Vizima palace. 

-- He doesn’t complain about going weeks covered in blood, sweat, dirt, shit, and gods only know what else. He’ll complain about having to scrub it off his clothes, though. 

-- He’s fucking TOUGH. For a human, he’s survived some extreme shit and kept on trucking. He can take a fall, he can take a hit, he can nearly be burned alive by a dragon and then buried under half a foot of rubble and get up and be pissed off that his uniform is scorched and he broke three ribs. Socia’tael have seen him take arrows and just keep coming. 

--  He aches a lot. Muscles, joints, especially his wrists from using a sword. All that jumping after the Socia’tael and fighting his way out of every situation has taken a real toll on his body. He often wears compression gloves under his studded ones to help with the pain. He claims that age is a factor because he’s not a young man anymore, but Elder Blood would staved that off for a bit longer. Time will tell on that one, whether is pain his lifestyle or age, and if he lives long enough for his age to give much of a hint.

-- And a random thing that screws up the whole idea he might have Elder Blood, this poor man can’t carry tune for shit. Can’t even hum on key. He’s fucking awful and so he just WON’T because his biggest weakness is doing something minorly embarrassing. 

So the question becomes, is Roche a half-elf, a weird human, or are humans just sometimes like that? Until they know for sure, all are equally likely and valid.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (May 6/2021) - Ponk, Pumpkins and the Pickle Pit

Foolish and Tommy go mining for stone after Tommy discovers a pickle pit with a powerful pickle to help Foolish with Ponk’s pumpkin prank.

Jack Manifold ponders Wilbur’s apology and works on the pub.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Jack Manifold

Hannahxxrose

---

- Ponk works on the supreme fridge some more

- After wandering around the server for a bit, Ponk returns to the summer home and leads Tombee around before seeing Foolish there

- Foolish threatens Coraline’s mother. Quickly, Ponk goes to prepare a trick, grabbing a pumpkin and enchanting it with the Curse of Binding

- Ponk tells Foolish that DreamXD came to him in a dream and has gifted him with the ability to repair any item dropped by a dispenser, and he can demonstrate with his diamond spoon

- He positions Foolish in front of the dispenser and puts the Ponk gains photo on the front, but it fails to fire. After a few more tries, Ponk successfully tricks Foolish into putting on the pumpkin head. Foolish is level 62. Ponk quickly leaves, boating away.

- Foolish plots ways to get Ponk back. He’s a pacifist and can’t kill, and he doesn’t want to break the fridge. 

- Foolish tells Ponk that he will be napping with Sam, and Ponk promptly logs off. Foolish burns Coraline’s mother in a fire and uses a texture pack to clear his vision

- Foolish plans to have a date with Sam under the old Lemon Tree, using his I.O.U. from Ponk to get Ponk to be their waiter

- After Foolish works on his builds some more, Tommy logs on and Foolish asks him for help with the pumpkin. Tommy tells him to come to his house

- When Foolish arrives, Tommy asks for help, as he has fallen into the pickle pit. When he tried right clicking the pickle with bonemeal, he lost his armor and the pickle makes an intense sound. It is a powerful pickle

- Tommy was mining stone for a project when he peeked down the ravine and became enthralled with the pickle, at which point he fell

- Foolish helps Tommy out of the quarry and they head to the roof of the Big Innit Hotel, where Tommy takes Foolish’s pork chops and pushes him off the roof to fetch a loaf of bread

- He pushes Foolish off a second time and Foolish dies, successfully removing the pumpkin

- As Foolish is walking back to Tommy’s house, Tommy calls for help. He has fallen into the pickle pit again. Foolish finds Tommy in the pickle pit with the Curse of Binding pumpkin on his head (He got the pumpkin stuck on his head, so he came to the pickle)

- Tommy gets Foolish to bring some bones over to see what would happen. Foolish offers to bring more pickles, but Tommy says that would offend it.

- The pickle goes BWAAAMP again. They feed the pickle tons of bonemeal and it starts jammin’ 

- Tommy tries to continue mining stone but cannot tell the difference when he mines coal instead. Foolish diagnoses him with pumpkipnemonianephobia

- Tommy tries asking the pickle for help again but the pickle just keeps jammin’

- They climb back up to the hotel roof and Tommy decides he must go back to the pickle, walking off the edge of the tower and falling. The pumpkin falls off

- Feeling threatened, Foolish states he must destroy the pickle. It is like a second Egg, having grown too powerful already. He returns to the pickle pit, finding Tommy there jammin’ with the pickle

- Tommy leaves to go get his things. Foolish thought that had been the end of him and tells Tommy that the pickle needs to go. Tommy intends to keep the pickle and continue his job of mining stone

- Tommy mentions going to fight Dream, and Foolish asks how it went. He hasn’t seen Wilbur. It’s been a while since he’s seen Ghostbur, though

- Tommy tells him that Ghostbur’s not here anymore. Foolish assumes he packed up and left.

Tommy: “Yeah, he moved out to this little train station far away. There’s a little train station, you know, up right near the world border. There’s a little train station.”

Foolish: “Oh that’s cool. I’d want to see that sometime."

...

Tommy: “There’s a little train station out near the world border. And Ghostbur went but he left Friend. But we’ll get Friend to him soon. ‘Cause then he’ll be happy.”

- Foolish hasn’t killed a single soul since arriving here. He doesn’t kill anymore. Tommy went to go and kill Dream. It occurs to Foolish that never really asked Tommy how exactly he came back, but Tommy doesn’t want to talk about it.

- Wilbur was revived, and now he’s gone somewhere, but Tommy wants to prove him wrong, that he’s not weak. So he’s getting all this stone to prove that he’s strong.

- Tommy takes Foolish to L’manburg, telling Foolish that they made this nation to get away from Dream because he wouldn’t let them do what they wanted to. He tells the story of L’manburg and Wilbur’s downfall

Tommy: “Treat others how you want to be treated. Wilbur disregarded that rule. He decided that he wanted to be treated poorly, so he treated everyone else poorly.”

...

Foolish: “Do you believe in second chances?”

Tommy: “I don’t. I don’t really believe -- that’s not a thing for me, Foolish, it’s just that -- I believe that everyone’s got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him, alright?”

...

Tommy: “What this is gonna be about isn’t giving him a second chance, isn’t giving him a third chance -- it's not about chances, Foolish. It’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you care about. I know you’re still really new to the server, I know you’ve built lots of things. So if you ever care about someone, do not give up on them, Foolish. Don’t give up on people, alright? ‘Cause that’s how you lose.”

- Foolish asks if Tommy would consider himself to be the good guy or the bad guy. Tommy says it depends

- They return to mining stone and the pickle. Tommy gets the pumpkin stuck on his head again in the pickle pit and they dance a pickle dance

- Tommy goes to see the pickle again after a bit and gets sent Imgur links

- He then asks to mod for Foolish

- Later, Tommy starts messing around with a soundboard and the Able Sisters Theme. Foolish follows Tommy down the Prime Path as Tommy becomes Lore Man

- Tommy/Lore Man dies from too much lore, so Lore Man leaves and Tommy returns. Foolish tells him the tale as they continue to mine stone

- Tommy leaves and Foolish continues with his own project

- Jack stands in the hotel, thinking about Wilbur’s apology. Wilbur didn’t just apologize, he apologized for Jack getting left behind, for being abandoned, for all of it, and he meant it.

- It’s weird. Jack doesn’t know how he feels about what Wilbur said. No one’s ever apologized to him before for leaving him behind. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared to forgive yet.

- He doesn’t know what to do. He’s seen “friends” get revived before, but Wilbur came back and he was nice. 

- Jack Manifold stares at a picture of DaBaby and asks him what he should do. Usually he would get revenge, but this time it feels like he’s been understood. And that’s fulfilling. 

- When he and Niki were plotting, they said they would “make them see,” but Wilbur’s come back from the dead and he already does. Does this make Jack’s efforts fruitless? 

- He returns to the hotel and pauses for a moment. Why couldn’t Tommy do the same?

- Jack still isn’t fond of Tommy, but judging by the fact that Tommy and Wilbur were going around together, he figures that they’re friends. 

- He decides to work on making his pub. In the future, he wants to talk more with Wilbur.

- Later, Jack comes across an Oogway-decorated box near Tommy’s house. Curious, he goes inside and immediately gets a pumpkin stuck on his head.

- Foolish kills Friend and Hannah eats the meat and chases him

- Foolish asks her if she still has Egg in her brain. Possibly. Hannah walks around Foolish’s summer home and asks what’s wrong.

- He reminds her that he died. Hannah says it had to be done for the greater good.

- Hannah tells him that he was her first friend on the server, to not let this death come between them. Foolish tells her to not let the Egg come between them and tells her to leave.

- If Hannah gets the Egg out of her head, things can change. But Hannah says that won’t happen anytime soon.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[feralphoenix]

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

whats UP hk fandom i am back with—“more picante takes?” WOW YES HOW DID YOU KNOW!!!

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHTS PROGRAM: today we are discussing the hollow knight boss fight, and all that entails for all the characters involved. relatedly this post does not have anything nice to say about the pale king, so if you’re very protective of his character, you may want to skip it.

FURTHERMORE, i would like to iterate that this essay is working from a place of compassion for ghost, hollow, radiance, AND hornet, because every single one of them is miserable at this point in the game and doesn’t want the events of this boss fight to be happening at all. this post is not an appropriate place to dunk on ANY of them. if you want to do that, please do it elsewhere.

thanks for your understanding.

ALSO, AS USUAL: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of radiance and the moth tribe’s backstory is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

A while back @grimmradiance​ made a lovely essay about comparing and contrasting Hollow’s moveset in their Hollow Knight and Pure Vessel boss fights and using what can be gleaned from the differences to speculate about their psychology. (This essay is currently their pinned, but I’ll attach a link in a reblog.) It is extremely good, and it made me want to look at the Hollow Knight boss fight my own self through one of my own areas of expertise, meaning music!

As we are all well aware, Christopher Larkin's soundtrack to Hollow Knight rules ass. There are two specific ways in which it rules ass that are relevant to this essay: Leitmotif, and sound palette.

Quick rundown for folks who aren’t familiar with these terms: A leitmotif is a melody associated with a character or event or mood that's incorporated into songs in different ways based on what's happening in the story. Undertale is an example of a game with an incredibly strong use of leitmotif that’s really only possible because Toby Fox is both the composer and the game creator, so he can synchronize the subtleties of the writing with music and scene scripting too.

The phrase “sound palette” can have a lot of meanings, but in this case I’m using it to refer to specific instruments or groups of instruments that are associated with certain characters. If you’ve watched Steven Universe and seen interviews/production commentary by its composer team Aivi & Surasshu, you’ll hear them talking about part of their approach to scoring episodes being how each main character is represented by certain instruments: Steven with the triangle wave, Pearl with jazz piano, and so on.

Hollow Knight is a small team project rather than a one-person show, so Christopher Larkin can’t go quite AS over-the-top with leitmotif integration as Toby Fox can on simple virtue of Team Cherry having to communicate what they want to him. But Larkin is Hollow Knight's sound designer as well as its composer, so he folds leitmotif and character sound palette together with striking use of stems to create a very immersive and cinematic musical experience that enhances HK’s story and gameplay.

This brings us back to the track Sealed Vessel, which has EXTREMELY tight and cinematic sound design and uses leitmotif and sound palette to not just sock players in the feelings during a charged and dramatic boss fight, but also tell us a lot about what Hollow and Radiance are experiencing emotionally, especially with the gameplay in mind.

So, let’s play the soundtrack version of Sealed Vessel (and some other stuff) and talk about what’s going on in the game during it!

You may want to get out your copy of the OST or visit Christopher Larkin’s Bandcamp page so that you can listen along.

LEITMOTIF & SOUND PALETTE

Before we actually get into analyzing Sealed Vessel, let’s talk about the involved characters’ leitmotifs/sound palettes so we know what we’re listening for.

Both of these things are easiest to identify when characters have a distinct theme song. Ghost does not. However, the main theme of Hollow Knight (see: the title track, Hollow Knight) is used as a leitmotif for the vessels as a whole. Most pieces involved with a vessel character include this leitmotif somewhere. For instance, you can find this leitmotif and variations on it in Broken Vessel’s boss theme. The Vessel leitmotif is led by a cello solo here, so we can identify that the cello is the central part of Broken Vessel’s personal sound palette.

When the Vessel theme is associated with Ghost in specific, it tends to be performed by viola and/or piano, as it is on the title track and in other places like the opening cinematic.

Moving on to Hollow, their specific sound palette is established not in Sealed Vessel but in Pure Vessel, their pantheon boss theme. (Sealed Vessel was composed first, since the Godmaster DLC didn’t drop until over a year after HK’s initial release, meaning Pure Vessel was reverse-engineered/extrapolated from relevant parts of Sealed Vessel. But we’ll get into that later!)

The major instrumental fixtures in Pure Vessel are choir and tubular bells (i.e., those dramatic vertical fellas that sound like church bells or a carillon), with some soft background instrumentation: bass drum, woodwinds (appropriately led by flute in the main melody’s “falling motion” - flute is the centerpiece of TPK’s sound palette), strings, and high/mid brass. Hollow’s overall sound palette has a very Christian choir-esque sound (in the Pure Vessel theme this is very idealized and saintly: soft and slow and tragic) and the beginning of their leitmotif has a very distinctive climbing melody that mirrors their ascent from the Abyss. The Unbearable Vesselness Of Being leitmotif is absent from the Pure Vessel track.

Meanwhile, Radiance’s boss theme is a very fun expression of her character upon which Larkin evidently went ham. Her sound palette is expressed through full orchestra (plus choir and pipe organ) that has a special emphasis on the bass part of the brass section, which does not see much use in the HK soundtrack. Her leitmotif has also got cute and distinctive touches: It’s full of triplets to match her tiara-looking antennae, and also has a repeated “fluttery” pattern of background sixteenth notes as countermelody, often spiraling downwards.

The majority of the piece is loud and bombastic and in a minor key to play up the “resplendent and terrible” wrathful aspect of herself Radi is pushing during this section of gameplay, a very quintessentially moth intimidation tactic: Try to look as scary as possible to keep your enemies from messing with you, since you’re not built for fighting. These blasts of intensity from the brass section match Radiance’s strategy of Overwhelm You With Bullet Hell Spam To Make Up For Lack Of Battle Experience/Poor Aim. But in between said intensity spikes you can hear traces of softer instrumentation and major key, little glimpses of a gentle warmth we can otherwise only infer from her backstory and the implications of Moth Tribe lore.

0:00 - 0:41 - OPENING AMBIANCE

The Sealed Vessel track begins with the ambiance of the Black Egg Temple’s interior: The faint tones of the glowing seals we hear when we pass by them, the only light in a pitch-black world besides the floor lighting up under Ghost’s feet.

Then a slow string tremolo fades in, slowly growing louder. In the track new notes join the tremolo progressively, while in-game a violin joins the anticipatory chord every time you snap one of Hollow’s chains. Which, may I say: A+++++++ sound design!!!!!! Rules ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The tremolo reaches a peak in dynamics - all three characters present are extremely tense - and then cuts off to allow for Hollow’s boss battle opening, i.e. Radiance screaming. Team Cherry kindly demarcates each phase of the battle with a Radi yell.

0:43 - 1:39 - PHASE 1: HOLLOW ON AUTOPILOT

Phase 1 opens immediately with Hollow’s leitmotif in bells, but with brass, piano, and percussion backing them up; grand and tragic. In the background the bass section of the orchestra's strings flutter in a repetitive pattern of 16th notes, i.e. Panicky Radi Noises. The violins harmonize with Hollow's leitmotif as it climbs, but then join the rest of the string section in fluttering 16th notes, transmuting what in Pure Vessel is the flute leading Hollow back down (8th notes) to a slightly louder “a” from the backseat.

In actual gameplay, the only attacks Hollow uses are their basic nail skills. Building on grimmradiance’s analysis of the window their attacks provide to their psychology, and pairing that with the Pure Vessel leitmotif booming over the metaphorical loudspeakers, we can tell that this is Hollow reacting automatically to a threat the way that their father trained them to. Their conscious mind might still be making dialup noises at Ghost’s sudden reappearance jumpscaring them with murky childhood guilt and trauma, but that’s only let muscle memory take over. Slash, parry, charge and thrust. Their time spent at bee bootcamp (which we can assume because Hornet was trained at the Hive and Hollow’s form while nail fighting is identical to hers on their shared moves) has served them well.

Radiance, meanwhile, has frozen completely for this combat phase, and contributes nothing here except the anxiety of the string section.

As the strings continue to go “a” the piano (Ghost) and woodwinds harmonize on something between Hollow’s personal leitmotif and the Vessel leitmotif in the backdrop.

However at around 1:29ish, the key changes, building into an overall color change for the Sealed Vessel piece.

1:39 - 2:15 - PHASE 2: SHE’S AS SCARED OF YOU AS YOU ARE OF HER

In actual gameplay, the part of Sealed Vessel used for phases 1 and 2 of the Hollow Knight fight is the Entirety of 0:43 - 2:15, possibly because there’s no easy transition spot like there is between phase 2 and phase 3. But the changes to Hollow’s moveset are clearly tied to this specific part of the piece.

Phase 2 is where Radiance pushes herself past her freeze response and starts trying to hit Ghost. Hollow gains two attacks here, which we can tell are Radi because they’re often accompanied by her crying (a softer and more abbreviated sound than her full scream): These two attacks are the Infection blob blast and the Light/Void pillar attack that hits for a full 2 masks damage (which appear to be Radi’s take on Hollow’s Pure Vessel-exclusive moves, their grabby tentacles & silver knife pillars respectively).

In the Sealed Vessel track, this part of the piece is almost entirely Radiance’s fluttering. The strings start by following the descending motion of Hollow’s leitmotif but in 16th notes, then ratchet up to start spiraling down again while straying further from Hollow’s leitmotif. This section ends in a back and forth between hard blasts in a one-two-(rest)-one-two-three pattern and gasps of fluttering between, with piano and low brass building behind it. Eventually the nervous fluttering of the strings becomes less frequent between the blasts: Radiance is inexperienced with fighting and very very afraid, but she’s also FUCKING PISSED and prepared to defend herself.

The OST version of the piece punctuates the break between the first half of the piece and the second with Radiance’s scream.

2:16 - 4:04 - PHASE 3: “I’M HELPING! :)” SAID HOLLOW; “HOLY SHIT PLEASE DON’T,” SAID LITERALLY EVERYONE

Phase 3 opens with Hollow stabbing themself repeatedly, a movement pattern they repeat throughout the phase. It is shocking the first time you see it, and never stops being horrible and sad no matter how many times you do this part of the fight.

Here, Hollow’s mind has finally come back online after their own freeze response, and they choose to destroy themself and bequeath the duty of sealing Radiance to Ghost. Even if they can’t be the one to make their father proud, they can still make sure their directive gets carried out.

Radiance knows exactly what they’re up to and why, and she reacts to this by completely losing her head and mashing buttons in a panic. This is something we see out of her at the ends of her boss fights too, where she’s feeling too threatened and afraid to do anything but spam optic blasts. In the Hollow Knight boss fight this manifests in two horrifying-looking but easy-to-avoid new attacks: The Infection blob sprinkler and the ragdoll.

Ghost does not react visibly because we're in gameplay, but their horror and grief at their sibling’s choice is echoed in the BGM. The Sealed Vessel piece goes soft and sad, with Ghost’s associated viola leading the bass strings in the Unbearable Vesselness of Being leitmotif. At 2:51 the violin comes in with Hollow’s leitmotif, and gradually the choir appears in the backdrop. The ensemble’s overall dynamics build in a slow crescendo, and at the very end of this segment the other instruments begin to join in.

This segment of the piece is also used in phase 4, which occurs if you don't have Hornet’s help or miss your cue to Dream Nail Hollow. Phase 3 ends when Hollow reaches 0 HP; in phase 4 they are for all purposes already dead. But Radiance manifests an extra 250 HP out of terrified, unadulterated FUCK YOU FUCK THIS!!! even though all she can do is get Hollow to fall on their face trying to slash and ragdoll them around. The BGM continues to play as Ghost absorbs Radiance from Hollow and Hollow’s body loses its shape and dissolves into liquid Void.

And there’s one other place in gameplay Sealed Vessel (Unbearable Vesselness of Being) is used: The Path of Pain, the completely evil kaizo-level obstacle course which presumably featured in Hollow’s childhood training, and behind which the Pale King has hidden his last and most terrible secret—that he had realized on some level that Hollow was a kid with feelings who loved him and wanted to make him proud, and condemned them to death despite it all by using them to imprison and torture Radiance as he’d always planned.

The OST version of Sealed Vessel includes the music for both normal ending cinematics, so we’ll be looking at them too.

4:05 - 4:35: ENDINGS 1/2: NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS

In the BGM for The Hollow Knight and Sealed Siblings endings, the Vessel leitmotif is played by violin, viola, and choir while the cellos and contrabasses—and then the brass bass section too—play a slower version of Radiance’s downward spiral. But once Ghost is pierced by the Black Egg’s chains and Radiance’s struggle to free herself ends in failure, the soprano and bass sections harmonize. The animation zooms out of the temple and the seal reforms. They are stuck together now until the end of Ghost’s life. Hooray.

The OST version of the track immediately segues into the BGM for Dream No More.

4:36 - 5:45: ENDING 3: THANKS, I HATE IT

Here, Hornet’s associated instrument, the violin, plays one long sustained note with a few notes of Ghost’s piano alongside as she wakes up.

TPK’s goddamn flute comes in at 5:00 with his leitmotif overpowering the backdrop Vessel leitmotif on piano while Hornet surveys the carnage: The temple has been destroyed, Radiance is dead, and what’s left of Ghost’s corpse is smeared across the floor. The Void may have taken umbrage with his horseshit and unceremoniously vored him, but the motherfucker still got what he wanted in the end; the Pale King has ended the Infection by completing his genocide of the moths, using the children he abused and abandoned as his proxies, and wasting two of their lives. Can I get a hearty THIS SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in the chat.

Given that Hornet herself is canonically unsure if bringing the fight to Radiance is really a just course of action, one can only imagine how she must feel when she sees the cost of that decision.

Our only real moment of catharsis is in this shit situation comes in at 5:13, where the flute gives way to a solo from Ghost’s associated viola, playing the Vessel leitmotif as the Siblings curl up and sink back into the mountain of their corpses. Goodnight, kiddos. You deserved better, and so did literally everyone involved in this whole stupid boss fight.

This is where the OST version of Sealed Vessel ends. Even without the gameplay and story context it slaps, but now that we’ve taken a look at how this 5:45 piece is wall to wall misery and fear on the part of literally every involved character, hopefully it will have even more impact!

[altagraye]

Faith  miniseries (part 1)

**T. W.!!: self harm, suicidal thoughts, self doubt, sad reader.

*this is my first xreader ever so i hope it aint sloppy. 💋

There were very few things that scared the Winchesters but tonight their fear was palpable. Most of the time they were passive and observant. Even Dean didn't want to open that can of worms. Ever since that hunt a few weeks ago, the one no one talked about on the 2 day drive home, something with you has been wrong. Like you got your wires crossed and you haven't been the same since. It has been gradual, like watching someone sinking in quicksand or dying of cancer.  

You weren't stupid, you could tell that they have been distantly observing you as if you had a ticking time bomb strapped to your torso at all times. You noticed the change of mood in the kitchen when you'd finally gotten yourself out of bed to grab a cup of coffee. It's like your presence sucked the life out of a room, much like a Dementor from Harry Potter. You didn't know which hurt more, the deafening silence, the obvious coaxed smiles from Sam, or the steady stares from Dean when your back was turned. Sometimes when you were awake enough, you heard the brothers arguing about something, you'd tricked yourself to overhear certain words in their heated arguments, and convinced yourself they hadn't been arguing about you. But they clearly were.  

Cas, the usual flat faced stoic of the Bunker had twinges of concern in his oceanic orbs. Were you that messed up? That a fuckin' angel was concerned about you? What the hell happened? It started with that hunt. That much you know, right? Maybe it started before that? When it did sink in, you started to spend much more time cooped up in your room. You liked the softness of your bed and the warmth of your bed-covers. Suddenly you didn't want to go...anywhere. You spent your days sleeping and struggling to keep your eyes open enough to hear what Sam had conjured up about a potential case. The nights, those were the worst though. In the night you couldn't get to sleep if you tried. And that was when you felt most alone. You hated being awake, if you were awake you were thinking. And thinking means remembering just how much of a screw up you knew you were.

Team Free Will just came back from a hunt which you had to pull teeth just to get to stay in the confines of the Bunker. It had been a few days. You don't remember the last time you ate. Was it when you ate the second to last slice of apple pie in the middle of the night when your insomnia was at its peak? Or was that this evening when you woke up to a grumbling stomach that you couldn't ignore, so you quelled it with warm chicken broth. You didn't feel deserving enough to eat solid food today. Your lips were cracked and severely chapped even though you knew you kept your lip balm in the bedside table, within reach. Your long hair is disheveled in its bun and you can't stop sneezing because you forgot to take your medicine today, again. What a failure. You can't take care of yourself. It would be so much better if you could just lay down in your bed and sleep. Sleep and dream, forever.  

Face it, the Winchesters are so much better without you. Dean doesn't need you burdening him. He would only have to carry your dead weight around on cases. You can't even muster up the courage to walk up to houses and round up info on the local legends, doing door-to-door sweeps. What in all Hell makes you think Dean could be attracted to someone, some frail little girl trapped in the past? You weren't his type anyhow, a plus-sized book worm didn't turn him on. How could it? You saw his porno-mags. Those girls were, perfection. Miles away from what you were. They were tall, sculpted shades of golden skin. They were the definition of success, confidence, beauty. Qualities you'd convinced yourself you weren't. You saw their type in multiple bartenders that you painfully watched Dean flirt with. From your table at the bar, it stung to see Dean's pearly whites brighten in the lights of the illuminated bar. His expression full of child-like glee, effortless and innocent. Sam was next to you for protection, his face buried in his tablet searching diligently through lore and articles of missing peoples.  

You shuffle your feet audibly into the kitchen. Even though you don't feel like eating, you need to eat at least a sandwich in Dean's presence. The brothers were sipping beer at the table in the kitchen while you fixed yourself a wimpy pb & j. Sitting down at the very edge of the metal table you stared for a long moment at your sandwich. I hate this, it's making me sick to even look at food, you think to yourself. You take a bite and chew slowly, wanting so hard to spit it out. You're too fat already. Why do you eat in the first place? Those thoughts stew in your head as you notice the Winchester brothers are staring at you. You notice someone is talking to you but it doesn't register. You swallow the bite unwillingly, closing your eyes like you had just done something terrible.  

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" You recognize the husk in the voice to be Dean's. You flinch and look at him, wishing immediately you hadn't stared into those perfect green orbs. The expression on his face let you know that he knew there was definitely something wrong with you. God you're such a freak. You drag your tongue on your left canine, the one that has always been particularly sharp. Feeling a cold sweat begin to drip down your neck, you start to panic. You drop your sandwich on its plate and rise from your seat. You need the sanctuary of your messy bedroom, the softness of the mattress. You need the coolness of the sheets. Your small feet tap the tile of the floor beneath you but you notice sound behind you that will your body to go faster. They were following after you.  

You'd never been more afraid that they'd find out what was in your head. That Dean would find out how you felt about him and about yourself. That can't be an option. You knew what would be next, what was inevitable. The dreaded talk. You finally reach the knob of your bedroom door, your palm slipping as you fumble with it from sweating. Just as they are about to reach you, you open the door and slam it shut behind you, locking it. You heart is racing against your chest. Locking the door isn't enough. So you barricade the door with your dresser. As you do so, you feel yourself breaking and hot tears flow down your face soaking into your hoodie.  

"Y/N?! C'mon, open the door." Sam says.

"Whatever it is we can talk about it. Y/N. Please?" Dean's tone is almost unlike him. You'd only ever heard him use this kind of tone with children who were in the midst of trauma from an awry hunt. Is that what he thought of you as? A wounded child in need of coddling? Or maybe even worse, a wounded animal.

You don't answer and there is a long pause. You need relief and release in the only way you know how. You rummage through your bedside table drawer and find a thin hunting knife, the one Dean gave you a few years ago. Your first gift from him. You pull down the fleece-like fabric of your sweatpants to reveal scars, left over from self-inflicted pain, years gone by. They were raised and pink lines. They wouldn't understand. You hear thudding from the other side of your door, that can only mean the brothers are getting more desperate, using their bodyweight to try and get inside.  

"Y/N!!" Dean yells for you in between the thudding.  

"GO AWAY!" You yell as you drag the sharpness across your skin. Red bubbles up from the cut and for a few seconds you feel relief. But it doesn't stop the pain. You cry more, sobbing uncontrollably. The salty tears blurring your vision until they spill over staining your cheeks. You need more, so you add more cuts, one by one. Oddly you chuckled at your macabre artwork, thinking you just made your thigh look like a piece of lined paper. You start your work on the opposite thigh, digging in a little deeper with each line.  

You hear someone suck in a breath sharply. Someone was in the room with you. During your release, you never noticed the dresser move or the door opening. Looking up from your bloodied thighs you see Dean staring back at you. His blade still in your hand, red dripping down your skin and slipping into the pure white sheets.  

"Y/N? Hey, that's okay. Put the knife down, alright?" He said to you smiling at you flashing his bright white impeccable teeth, Sam in the background of your bedroom doorway with his hand clasped over his mouth in a blank stare. More tears sear themselves into your eyes and flood over. Your lips are quivering. You drop your knife released from your trembling hand, it thunks itself into the wooden floor below. You don't dare look back at Dean. You curl yourself up as best as possible granted the size of your stomach won't let you pull your knees to your chest.

You collapse onto your bed facing your pillows, you sob into them and hold one tight to your face in a feeble attempt to hide yourself. You feel Dean sit next to you on the bed, and he begins to stroke your back in soothing motions. His effortless acts of kindness make you break more. You feel the onset of a nasty headache forming, from the intensity of your sobbing. You can barely make out Dean telling Sam to bring a first aid kit and water. Dean shushes you and continues to stroke your back and your arm.

"You don't have to tell me anything. Just take deep breaths, 'kay? Here, I'll do it too." He breathes deep in and out, hard enough to be audible. Why was he so nice to me all of a sudden?? You begin to feel numb, and you weren't sure if this was from the emotional break down or the blood loss. Had you cut too deep this time? Sam returns with the first aid kit. You note its metal clink on the bedside table. You unbury your face from your pillow only to get a breath of fresh air. You don't look at Dean or Sam. You couldn't. Dean thanks his younger brother for the glass of water and the kit.  

"Can you give us a minute Sammy?" Dean asks.

"Sure. As long as you need." Sam confirms and you hear the heavy footed thuds of his boots exit your room. Dean does something that you don't expect. He lays down on his side, with you. Spooning up against your form. You mentally whack yourself in the head, he's getting his jeans all bloody, that you're sure of. He continues to stroke your arm softly. He hooks his chin into the nook of your shoulder.

"Whenever you're ready. I'm all ears." He tells you, the gentleness in his tone brings you to tears again. You weep silently. Was this really happening? You don't budge or say a word as sleep takes you over and you feel so amazingly content. You melt into the rhythmic breaths that Dean takes. The act soothes you into dreamland. For the first time in a while you think, I want to wake up to him next to me. And you swear you smile in your slumber.

End part 1.

*criticism is taken constructively.

*comments are golden.

[thespiralgrimoire]

Writing prompt: Elf Fana breaks into House Vermillion to challenge Fuegoleon for the rights to Salamander but comes in at dinner. Fuegoleon insists she eat a proper meal before any dueling can happen.

WHAT A VERY NICE PROMPT

This ended up a little longer than I wanted, but I liked how it came out!

--

The Vermillions heard the commotion long before they knew its source, but since no one was calling for help, and they had just sat down for dinner, they decided to let the trouble-- if that was what it was --come to them.

They did not expect a young woman, clad in dirty elf robes and broken sandals, to come barging into their dining room, wrapped in fierce fire magic. Winded from her battle into the castle, she held up a shaking hand and pointed directly at Fuegoleon. “You! Fire spirit user! I challenge you to a battle!”

Mereoleona, Fuegoleon, and Leopold stared at the girl in blatant confusion. It wasn’t lost on anyone that she had to have tremendous strength to get this far. It also wasn’t lost on them that she was exhausted, frazzled, dirty, and, as an elf, a very long way from home.

Jaw setting, Fuegoleon pushed out of his chair and stood. The girl bristled as he took a step toward her and planted his hand on the empty dining chair beside him. Eyes burning intensely into hers, he declared, “I accept your challenge. But first…” He pulled out the chair and turned it toward her. “Join us for dinner.”

The girl, poised in every way to leap into action at that very moment, froze. “W… What?”

“You have interrupted our dinner. It is the last day that our dear sister Mereoleona is home.” He nodded to the eldest Vermillion, who was watching all this with sparkling eyes. “I will not allow your arrival to interrupt our last dinner with her.”

The girl stared, the fire dancing around her quieting to a crackle. “You… want me to have dinner with you?”

Fuegoleon nodded seriously. “You look like you could use a decent meal. Come. Have some dinner, and then we will duel.”

Slowly, the girl lowered her fists. Her mana quieted, and finally receded. “O-Okay.”

Fuegoleon saw to it personally that the young woman received a plate piled high with everything that the kitchen staff had to offer. Once her plate was set before her, the Vermillions continued to eat, and the dining room reclaimed its casual tone, despite its unexpected guess.

“So, what’s your name?” Leopold flashed her a curious smile. “You’re an elf, right? You must have come from a long way! I thought that the elves left the Clover Kingdom after…”

“My name is Fana.” Her quick answer staved off an awkward silence. “And yes, I left the Heart Kingdom to come here.”

“That’s quite a journey,” Fuegoleon mused. “Did you come all this way just to challenge me?”

Eyes on her plate, she nodded.

“Why?” Mereoleona pressed.

For a moment she did not answer, pushing her food around her plate. “I was Salamander’s previous partner.”

A surprised murmur rippled through the Vermillions. As it fizzled out, it gave way to excitement.

Leopold slammed his hands on the table and leaned toward, eyes wide. “Really? That’s amazing! You must be an incredible fire mage!”

“That is very impressive.” Fuegoleon smiled. “It’s no wonder you could break into our castle. This will be quite a duel then.”

Mereoleona chuckled. “So, you want it back?”

Fana lifted her head and met the woman’s gaze confidently. “Yes, I do!” Turning to Fuegoleon, she added, “If I defeat you in battle, then Salamander will surely take me back! Don’t you think?”

Fuegoleon pondered that a moment, rubbing his chin. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, I think it would. And I would not question it. If that is your intention, then I will not use Salamandar in our dual. But I should warn you: I don’t intend to lose.”

Fana flashed him a determined smile. “Neither do I!”

…

From the balcony, Mereoleona and Leopold squinted at the ash-laden training field, searching for signs of the battlers through the thick smoke of the fight. Eventually they caught the bright red glow of Fuegoleon’s restraining magic. Fana, wrapped in lion’s paws, struggled, staggered, and with a final cry, slumped in their hold.

Mereoleona and Leopold went wild. Their cheers echoed through the battlefield as Fuegoleon stepped through the ash to stand before his defeated opponent. He waited in silence for her to admit defeat of her own volition. Eager for the same thing, Mereoleona and Leopold grew quiet and leaned over the railing, hands clutching the hot metal and grinning wildly.

Fana shook her head back. “No… No! I can’t lose!” Like she’d gotten a second wind, her mana burst from her, fighting against her restraints. Fuegoleon put his hand up, shielding his eyes from the bright light as she struggled feebly against his restraining spell. But though her magic power pressed against his spell, she couldn’t break it, and she slumped back to the ground.

A sob cracked the air, breaking the Vermillions’ good mood like a dropped glass. Mereoleona and Leopold drew upright, exchanged a nervous look, and made their way down to the battlefield while Fuegoleon frowned down at his weeping opponent. As his siblings reached the field, he stepped closer and knelt. “Miss Fana, there is no shame in losing. You fought valiantly. You were more than a worthy opponent.”

“It’s not about the fight!” She lifted her head, fixing him with tear-soaked eyes. “I need Salamander! The others are counting on me!”

“The others?” Mereoleona repeated. “You mean the other elves?”

“Yes.” She dropped her head again, letting her tears run down her face and evaporate along her cheeks. “I am the only elf healer left. And with the Spade Kingdom threatening our home, I have to be ready to support my people! But without Salamander…”

The Vermillions’ faces fell. Their competitive natures could not outdo their sympathy. This was a motivation they could understand, even when-- especially when --they stood in opposition to it. A powerful healer could turn the tide of battle.

Fuegoleon dispelled his restraints, and when Fana slumped forward, he caught her and set her on her feet. “Miss Fana, you are selling yourself short,” he told her. “Your abilities far surpass what you seem to believe you are capable of. To be a healing mage with offensive power that can withstand a Clover Kingdom royal… Spade may pose an intimidating challenge, but you cannot resolve yourself to defeat due to the fire spirit’s whims. That is wishing for failure.”

Fana tilted her head back to meet Fuegoleon’s eyes. “But you have to understand. You know what it’s like to host Salamander. All that power… that endless well… I know what I’m missing!”

“And you know how to carry yourself without it,” he persisted. “The spirit chose you because of your power. Not in spite of it. Do not disappoint it in its absence!”

That’s it. I’ve heard enough.

The four startled at the intangible, booming voice. Fuegoleon lifted his flame arm, and from the fire emerged Salamander. Perched on the magic limb, it stared down Fana.

Fana, daughter of fire. It was not due to your inability that I left you; nor is it the reason that I will not accompany you now. Your powers in your cursed state needed taming, lest they threaten what we all hold dear.

Fana’s entire form shrank under the weight of her humiliation.

But that is not the case now. My abilities do not suit you in your natural state. You are not a fighter.

Tears caught in the corners of Fana’s eyes, thick and heavy before they rolled down her cheeks and sizzled into steam. “But I need your power. There are so few of us elves left. We can’t lose!”

You will not make good use of me in your natural, gentle state, the spirit declared. ...But I believe that you will make good use of my power. Therefore, I will help you. Just this once.

The spirit walked to the end of Fuegoleon’s arm, and perched on his hand, extended his head to meet Fana’s. Its nose pressed against her forehead.

The battlefield went up in flames. A column of fire erupted at Fana’s feet, enveloping her in white-hot magic power. Mereoleona ground her heels into the dirt and hid her face behind her arms. Leopold staggered, struggling to stay standing. Fuegoleon turned away, but his arm stayed stiff, anchoring him to the spot under Salamander’s control. The light gave way to a battlefield charred black. The brick of the courtyard walls burned. The ground was reduced to cinders. The air burned in their lungs.

Before them, Fana stood, aglow in spirit magic. Her skin was a radiant white and her teal eyes had turned orange, backlit by the spirit’s flames. She looked down at herself, mouth agape.

I have gifted you a small reserve of my power, the spirit intoned. What you have is yours to keep; but it will not last. Use it wisely to protect those dear to you.

Fana’s fiery orange eyes widened. She let out a laugh, dancing in the ash around her. “Thank you, Salamander! I will!”

The spirit straightened, and in a burst of flames, receded into Fuegoleon’s arm. The Vermillions smiled, and Fuegoleon held out his hand. “It was an honor fighting you, Fana.”

The elf caught his hand in both of hers and shook it energetically. “It was a lot of fun! Thank you for this, Fuegoleon! I really appreciate it!”

“Man, that was so cool!” Leopold crowed, hopping up to Fuegoleon’s side. “You’re amazing, Fana! Do you think you could show me some of those spells you used?”

“Idiot!” Mereoleona slammed her fist into her youngest brother’s head. “She’s got to go home!”

“I do,” Fana giggled, flashing him an apologetic smile. “But maybe I could come back some time…?”

Fuegoleon smiled and nodded. “We would all be honored to have you.”

--

Me? Inventing Fana and Salamander lore? It's more likely than you think

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Sardines, or Professor Vargas is an Asshole

Another fic from someone who’s only half-read everything. Told in second person, starring a female Yuu.

Content warnings for coarse language, kidnapping, sexual harassment along the lines of Vargas being similar to Gaston, and being deeply, direly self indulgent.

As always, please let me know if you enjoyed it, I live and breathe for positive feedback.

You do not like Professor Vargas, and the feeling is mutual.

It wasn't like the almost amiable vitriol between you and Schonheit, which, while having its ups and downs, was usually at a level of shooting a few insults at each other in between whatever dorm prefect business had you talking to each other, and parting ways with a hair flip on his part and a rude hand guesture on yours. And hell, the other teachers seemed almost fond of you. Trein appreciated you passion for history, even if annoyed at your preference for layman-oriented literature, and would let you sound off about whatever strange bit of lore you'd recently found out, and even once down and listened very patiently as you tried to explain who Emperor Norton was before he said you needed to leave so he could mark papers. Crewel and you had reached an uneasy truce where he did not call you a puppy, and you did not start going "what happens when these go together" in potions class every time he called you that in protest. (You may be a bitch, but he certainly isn't allowed to imply it, even in the most roundabout of ways.)

But Vargas. Vargas hates your soft belly, your unwillingness to push yourself to the point of exhaustion, and most of all, he really, really hates that you're a girl that won't throw herself at his feet. You were trundling along at a swift walking pace on a broom, a mere few feet off the ground, when he stopped yelling at your classmates to pick on you instead.

"Too weak to do better than that?"

"I'm not magic. That I can do this at all is impressive." You're pointedly looking ahead, not looking at him jogging up beside you.

"You can go higher!"

"Professor," you say with barely contained irritation, "I am a beginner, and would much rather have the basics down before I attempt to turn myself into a fine paté from a hundred feet up."

He snorted. "Ashengrotto goes high; you can too."

"Azul's damn near in tears by the time he comes down because he didn't even have legs before a few years ago. He's not a good example."

Vargas, being a wretched asshole who should not be allowed to teach, instead tipped the end of your broom up. Only the broom shot into the air, you merely went ass-over-teakettle onto the grass, and stayed there because if you got up you would attempt to bite his nose clean off.

"Such poor balance! But I can fix that with some private lessons!" Oh, Christ. "You come by here after dark, I know all about teaching a girl how to ride -”

At that, you kicked him in the shin, and while he started back in pain, you shot up and started walking off the field, vibrating with the strength of your disgust.

"You can't hit a teacher! You'll regret this you stupid-" And you've picked up to a jog, because fuck if you were going to listen to that piece of shit try and pick up one of his own fucking students, what the actual fuck.

~*~*~*~

You relayed this whole mess across the supper table, afterwards, and your host was just as grossed out as you were.

"Keep an eye out next class," Azul said to you. "He holds a grudge."

"First hand knowledge?”

His silence was telling.

"You think I could get an exemption? Or like, permission to do a treadmill when everyone's out on a broom?"

"Who do you think you have to ask about all fitness-related things?" Azul had a faraway look that recalled war films. "It's not going to work.”

"What if I start skipping class?"

He gave you a look that could wither an evergreen. "Don't you dare, or he'll start picking on me again."

You shrugged. "Aight. I got three days to figure out what to do, then. You got any ideas?”

He folded his hands and rested his head upon them. "What would you pay?"

"No."

"Come on."

"What do I even have that you want?"

"I can think of a few things. The wave in your hair, or the gleam off your teeth."

"Because you need more curl to your hair."

"Someone might want to contract me for them."

"No. I got three days, Azul, we don't have to resort to your contracts.”

As it turned out, you did not have three days.

~*~*~*~

The next day's gym class was a motley bunch. Idia couldn't miss any more gym days this month, Lilia was doing his stretches, Floyd was... being Floyd, resulting in everyone who wasn't Rook giving him a wide berth, and Leona appeared to be skipping class and was therefore not present for the upcoming bullshit.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cater jogged in, cheery as sunshine though the clouds, and Idia rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't strain. "Laps today?"

"Vargas said we're doing Capture the Flag. Dunno how the teams'll go." Lilia was doing something complicated with his hands as he stretched his arms. "Kingscholar's absent, so they'll be uneven. And," he thumbed over at Rook, who was looking into the forest with the coiled intensity of a greyhound waiting for the rabbit to spring, "he's got an advantage, he knows the woods best."

"Yeah, but I've got unlimited data and a GPS." Cater patted his chest with a smile, the outline if his phone visibly through a pocket.

"Can't count on that for everything."

"Alright students!" yelled Vargas, strolling out of the woods with a bruise purpling one cheek. "Capture the Flag today. Use your brooms to navigate the forest, grab the flag, whoever brings it back gets the flag as a prize."

"It's in the forest, hanging from a pole in a clearing, you cannot miss it! All in white, too..." The professor brought up a little screen, showing off a live feed of his flag.

The flag, of course, was you, trussed up with rope and you legs hanging freely, still in last night's sleep shirt. Your voice came out, tinny from the speakers: "I did not consent to this, asshole."

The students were torn between looking at Vargas in shock, looking at the phone in shock, and muttering between themselves.

"Don't forget to have all the fun you want with the flag before you bring it back to me! When else will you get the chance?"

This just had everyone looking at each other with shifty-eyed suspicion.

"Every man for himself! Go get your prize!"

~*~*~*~

Vargas couldn't rig worth a damn. You're twenty feet in the air with just one rope suspending you, tied at the base with a simple knot. Everything hurt from chafing, you were cold, and you couldn't help but worry over what the hell was going to happen, depending on who found you. Vil still hadn't forgiven you for projecting a gorefest of a film across the walls of Pomefiore, so he might leave you to rot or use the situation to put a particularly vicious curse on you. Idia would probably drop dead of exhaustion after reaching you, leaving you both stuck. Floyd, well. As much as you enjoyed his company, it was like hand feeding a pet tiger; eventually he'll decide your hands tastes better, it's just a matter of when. You're running the numbers on most likely scenarios based on who shows up, when some twigs snap by the meadow's edge and you look towards a small "Hi."

Little ears! Little hands! Little all over, and looking up at you with curiousity as his tail swished. Chen'ya? No, no, other Ch- name. "Cheka! Hi, sweetie, honey, baby, can you get me down?" You'd already been here an hour and your hands were nothing but tingles.

"... Okay! Why're you up there?"

"Bad man," you say as he starts to tug at the rope. "You got it?"

He shook his head. "It's hard."

"Can you go get help, honey? Bring them back to get me down?"

He nodded. This was a big boy job, he could do it. "I'll get Uncle Leona."

Please don't, you thought to yourself, but instead said "Okay, please be quick, Cheka."

He started off towards the school, and you could have sworn he vanished before he actually hit the treeline.

~*~*~*~

He was only gone for a few minutes before you realized that you were starting to move. Turns out Cheka, despite being so small, had pulled enough at the rope before he left that the knot was unraveling.

"Oh shi-" is as far as you got before you're in freefall, and you yelped as you hit the ground feet first, wheezing. Fuck. You can barely move to survey the damage, because a certain asshole had put your hands behind your back, and every move made your ankles wail in pain. The only saving grace was that the ground was soft.

At least someone had landed by you, looking you up and down.

"... Hi, Yuu."

"... Hi, Lil."

Lilia pointed up. "You're supposed to be up there."

"Vargas was too busy trying to get upskirts to secure a fucking knot, apparently." You wince as he worked at the ropes. "My feet?"

"On the right way." You gritted your teeth and hissed as he prodded at them. "Both badly sprained, left worse than right. You're not walking out of here."

"Figured." You sat up and held your arms out. "Come on, old man, you're stronger than you look."

He was, but was too small to leverage you correctly.

"Can't you fly?"

"Yes," He said as he tried to balance you on the broom. 

"Then carry me.”

"You want me to drop you?"

"Nope."

"Do we just wait for the others?"

As if on cue, you heard distant yelling and what was maybe an explosion.  

"Yeah." Lil brightened, and snapped his fingers. "I saw a place, hold on."

Said place was either a nice treehouse or an okay deer blind, wide enough in the floor that you could lay flat out as he surveyed the damage. "This should be a good place."

"What the hell is going on out there?”

"Everyone's looking for you." Lil's settled crosslegged, with an amused smile. "Vargas said you're the prize, so everyone's trying to get here first. Isn't it good I found you? Who knows what they're planning."

You set your arm over your eyes and sighed. "Brave words from someone who's broken into my room more than once."

He shrugged. "You need looking after."

"De-organizing my things isn't looking after, you damned goblin."

He bristled. "I'm not a goblin."

"What is a goblin, Lilia."

"Small little fae who like to cause trouble."

"Exactly."

You couldn't see it, but you could feel the eye-roll.

~*~*~*~

It was five minutes at the most after that before Rook climbed in the door, looking so fresh-faced and joyful to see you it made you want to swat him. "Bonjour, my Trickster! You're living up to your name, hidden away!"

"Salut, Rook." You squinted at him. "You have first aid anything?"

"Hm," He said, prodding at your calf. "I have water, but these need wrapped."

"Give." Lilia took a sip of water before passing it to you. "The uniform denim won't tear easily-”

"Oh, we use this."

"Oh no you do not," You said as you tugged the hem of your sleep shirt from his hand. "No one here gets to see my underwear."

"I don't care about your panties, I care about this," he said as he brushed an ankle, making you jerk back. "It'll get worse if they aren't wrapped. There is fabric to spare.”

You huffed before you told him not to mention it to Vil, and between him and Lilia, you had two wrapped ankles and a dangerously short hemline. At least you'd actually put underwear on before Vargas decided to kidnap you, otherwise this would be a whole other level of distressing.

~*~*~*~

"You have a phone?"

Lilia pulled his from a hidden pocket. "You want to play Sweetie Scrunch?"

"No," You say as you take it from him and start flipping through his contacts. "I'm calling help."

It took him a whole three seconds before he realized who help was. "... Nope, nope, you're not getting Malleus involved, he will eat Vargas alive, we are not causing an international incident."

"Would you rather he find out after? And he knows how to heal." You'd already texted him a brief explanation one handed, the other keeping Lilia away.

"She is not wrong, monsieur... And it would be a delight to see him raise hell."

"See?" You gave Lilia a smile that would be very sweet if it wasn't full of the devil. "C'est bon."

~*~*~*~

Mal hurtled through the window so fast it was a miracle he didn't go clean through the far wall, before he was on top of you, fussing over his precious Child of Man.

"Mal, I am fine, please fix my -"

"Dreadful, simply dreadful." He was already working a prickly green light around your bruises. "And he did that, too?" he growled as he guestured to your ragged hemline."

"No, we did that to wrap my ankles. As much as I'd love to see it, we do not need to turn Vargas into - Mal. Mal. Put your clothing back-" He'd already managed to wrap you up in his green-trimmed uniform coat. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do." He already had you cradled in his lap, both arms around you in a vice grip. "You won't heal immediately, I must keep you safe until then.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. You were about to ask, before a dreadful wheezing started up from outside, and familiar pale hands had the bottom of the doorframe in a vice grip. "Help."

"Shit, Idia! Get him in here before he falls!"

~*~*~*~

Idia looked downright grey in your arms as you tried to get him to drink some water. For someone who had the physical fortitude of an overboiled noodle, he'd pushed himself to his limits looking for you, and then some.

"You're okay? Full health?" Idia sounded horribly raspy, and you fussed over his scrapes as you picked half-charred twigs from his hair. He was too tired to protest you holding onto him in much the same manner Malleus was holding onto you.

"Bout three-quarters. Fifty before Mal got here." Idia's eyes flicked to just behind your left ear before he shrank back.

You turned your head around, and Mal gave you his sweetest you're-my-best-friend smile. You looked back at Idia, who was attempting to shrink into something microscopic, and then back at Mal.

"Play nice. He's my friend too." 

Mal turned his face as innocent as he could muster. "Whatever do you mean, my friend?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do not." He wasn't looking at your face anymore.

"Yes you do. And he's you're friend too-"

Idia raised one hand tentatively. "We only play Dragon-Kun with each other."

You guestured down at Idia, still looking at Mal, looking anywhere but you. "You love your Dragon-kun. And maybe," you say as you nudge Malleus's cheek, "If you made more friends than me, you wouldn't have to be jealous when I have other friends?"

Mal's pupils were so narrow as to be barely visible when he glanced out of the corner of his eye at you, but he nodded, and mumbled a very quiet apology as Idia faintly relaxed.

"Impressive. I haven't been able to do that in years."

"That's because you're his dad."

"Do you think anyone else will show up, my Trickster? It's getting cramped in here."

You looked around and considered. "I mean, probably."

~*~*~*~

"Sevens?"

"Go fish."

"And that's when they added a dance emote, but it cause a glitch so the top half of your body started to spin around while the bottom half went normally, which would be okay, but if you collide with a wall then you clip about a mile above the ground and die from fall damage, and when they went to fix that -"

There were eight people in the treehouse, and no room for more. Mal had you in his lap in a corner. Idia was gesticulating wildly as he talked about what you were sure was this universe's version of Fallout 76, tucked against you at an angle. Floyd insisted on you using his lap as a footrest while he, Lilia and Cater played card games with an ancient deck Lilia had produced from another pocket. (You were not certain that Floyd's guesture was innocent, since he kept poking at your toes until you said you'd take them away if he didn't stop.) Rook was skipping this round to keep an eye out the window. There was maybe a half foot total of floor showing. Despite the magic fired and fists swung earlier, as soon as everyone had realized that no one was running to your rescue simply to perform their own indignities, everyone had relaxed.

Overall, it was very cozy, and as long as you could keep Idia talking instead of realizing he was crammed in a tiny room with a whole bunch of people, you could stay here quite comfortably for ages. Your ankles were currently only sore, with twinges of more, no one was at each other's throats, and as long as no one else fucked shit up, you could wait out Vargas, go home, and think about how in the hell you can report a teacher at this school for harassment.

"Trouble's coming."

Ah, shit.

Trouble, unfortunately, had figured out where they were due to the cluster of broomsticks at the base of the tree, flew to the window, and started spewing bullshit.

"What are you all doing? You abandoned the game," and here he guestured towards you, "and didn't come back with the prize. None of you would know what to do with a girl if she begged you!"

What a piece of shit, and he couldn't even read a room with eight sets of eyes glaring murder at him. He was still talking, but you weren't paying attention. Instead, you drained the last of the water, wiped your mouth on your arm, and took a deep breath.

"Get his ass."

~*~*~*~

Everyone scattered after that, not ready to deal with the consequences of ganging up on their teacher, even if he thoroughly deserved it. Everything will be dealt with tomorrow, when you can put weight on your legs without your knees buckling. Mal was walking you out of the woods personally in a princess carry, when he stopped in place.

"See, she's down, you didn't have to bug me."

You'd completely forgotten that Cheka had gone to bug Leona for help. "It's been hours."

He ignored that. "Draconia. What would your grandma say?"

"Mal-"

"I would hope she would be proud of my helping a friend." He held his head high, and brushed by Leona without another word.

"Bye!"

"Bye Cheka." You waved back at Cheka before the two lions were out of sight.

~*~*~*~

"Mal, you know you could just take me to my dorm, right?"

"Someone should keep an eye on you until you are fully healed," he said as he pulled out a pair of silk pajamas.

"Which you could do at my dorm, instead of." You guestured to the hangings on his bed. "Here."

"It's far more comfortable here than your dorm."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Mal."

"You're not in a state to argue." He set the pajamas beside you, before turning to face the wall.

"About that."

He did not move a muscle.

"I'm surprised you didn't just heal them outright."

Silence.

"I know perfectly well that you can. So why didn't you?"

He still said nothing.

"Be that way, Malleus. But you know that's not okay." You flung the remains of your shirt at him, managing to catch it on one horn. "If you want me to stay over, just say that instead of conspiring to keep me dependent for an evening."

He turned, pulling the cloth from his horns, before his eyes nearly popped from his head and he hurriedly turned back to the wall. "I... am not used to this."

"Neither am I. We're going to have to have a little talk about boundaries and healthy friendships. You can turn around now."

He did, you patted the side of his bed, and he joined you.

"How do you want to do this, Mal."

"I do not."

"Tough titty, said the kitty."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I know I'm the first real friend you've had. I've been on both ends of that. You know what happens when you cling real fucking hard to your friend, and try to isolate them because you don't wanna share?"

His face was a practiced mask of emotionlessness. "What is that?"

"They suffocate, and draw away because the intensity is way too much. And then no one's happy."

Mal frowned, but said nothing.

"I do want to be your friend. I like you. You're funny, you're deeply sincere, and you're still the same person I knew when I just called you Horned Boy. But I will cut this off if you try to isolate me. I do not want to, but I will have to. If you can't play nice with others, you don't get to play with me at all."

He's so clearly trying to hide his distress and irritation, but he could not help a sigh. "You are not wrong, Child of Man. And..." He looked away. "You won't live forever. Or be here forever, at that."

"I will not. You won't either, but like, you'll outlive me. Eggs in one basket, and all. Another reason to attempt to make more friends."

"Hm." He stretched out beside you, staring at the ceiling. "With who should I start? My reputation precedes me."

"Well," you smiled, "If I've learned one thing, forced proximity does wonders with forcing Idia to like you, and he's already somewhat used to you."

He smiled at the ceiling. "I do like him."

"Me too. You'd like his little brother."

"The creation?”

"Yeah. Look, I'll network for you with other people. And I'll make sure to invite you places."

"A promise?"

"Of course. Now, are you going to take me home, or put up with the rumours of keeping me in your room all night after beating up Vargas to get at me?"

"... Oh dear."

"Yeah."

After a moment, "... I am alright with the rumours."

You snorted. "You could just ask for a sleepover next time. Don't wait for an injury."

"I will ask."

"Make sure Sebek doesn't eat me in the morning."

"I would like to see him try." He gripped your closest hand and squeezed it.

"Me too."

You lay there a few moments, scary lonely dragon boy and strange lonely human kid, hand in hand.

"Do you have any tales from your home you could tell me?"

"Mostly ones you already kind of know."

"I would still like to hear."

Even a dragon wants a bedtime story, it seems.

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Mass Effect Retribution, a review

Mass Effect Retribution is the third book in the official Mass Effect trilogy by author Drew Karpyshyn, who happens to also be Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2.

I didn’t expect to pick it up, because to be very honest I didn’t expect to like it. 9 years ago I borrowed Mass Effect Revelations, and I still recall the experience as underwhelming. But this fateful fall of 2020 I had money (yay) and I saw the novel on the shelf of a swedish nerd store. I guess guilt motivated me to give the author another try: guilt, because I’ve been writing a Mass Effect fanfiction for an ungodly amount of years and I’ve been deathly afraid of lore that might contradict my decisions ever since I started -but I knew this book covered elements that are core to plot elements of my story, and I was willing to let my anxiety to the door and see what was up.

Disclaimer: I didn’t reread Mass Effect Revelation before plunging into this read, and entirely skipped Ascension. So anything in relation to character introduction and continuity will have to be skipped.

Back-cover pitch (the official, unbiased, long one)

Humanity has reached the stars, joining the vast galactic community of alien species. But beyond the fringes of explored space lurk the Reapers, a race of sentient starships bent on “harvesting” the galaxy’s organic species for their own dark purpose. The Illusive Man, leader of the pro-human black ops group Cerberus, is one of the few who know the truth about the Reapers. To ensure humanity’s survival, he launches a desperate plan to uncover the enemy’s strengths—and weaknesses—by studying someone implanted with modified Reaper technology. He knows the perfect subject for his horrific experiments: former Cerberus operative Paul Grayson, who wrested his daughter from the cabal’s control with the help of Ascension project director Kahlee Sanders. But when Kahlee learns that Grayson is missing, she turns to the only person she can trust: Alliance war hero Captain David Anderson. Together they set out to find the secret Cerberus facility where Grayson is being held. But they aren’t the only ones after him. And time is running out. As the experiments continue, the sinister Reaper technology twists Grayson’s mind. The insidious whispers grow ever stronger in his head, threatening to take over his very identity and unleash the Reapers on an unsuspecting galaxy. This novel is based on a Mature-rated video game.

Global opinion (TL;DR)

I came in hoping to be positively surprised and learn a thing or two about Reapers, about Cerberus and about Aria T’loak. I wasn’t, and I didn’t learn much. What I did learn was how cool ideas can get wasted by the very nature of game novelization, as the defects are not singular to this novel but quite widespread in this genre, and how annoyed I can get at an overuse of dialogue tags. The pacing is good and the narrative structure alright: everything else poked me in the wrong spots and rubbed how the series have always handled violence on my face with cruder examples. If I was on Good Reads, I’d probably give it something like 2 stars, for the pacing, some of the ideas, and my general sympathy for the IP novel struggle.

The indepth review continue past this point, just know there will be spoilers for the series, the Omega DLC which is often relevant, and the book itself!

What I enjoyed

Drew Karpyshyn is competent in narrative structure, and that does a lot for the pacing. Things rarely drag, and we get from one event to the next seamlessly. I’m not surprised this is one of the book’s qualities, as it comes from the craft of a game writer: pacing and efficiency are mandatory skills in this field. I would have preferred a clearer breaking point perhaps, but otherwise it’s a nice little ride that doesn’t ask a lot of effort from you (I was never tempted to DNF the book because it was so easy to read).

This book is packed with intringuing ideas -from venturing in the mind of the Illusive Man to assist, from the point of view of the victim, to Grayson’s biological transformation and assimilation into the Reaper hivemind, we get plenty to be excited for. I was personally intrigued about Liselle, Aria T’loak’s secret daughter, and eager to get a glimpse at the mind of the Queen Herself -also about how her collaboration with Cerberus came to be. Too bad none of these ideas go anywhere nor are being dealt with in an interesting way!!! But the concepts themselves were very good, so props for setting up interesting premices.

Pain is generally well described. It gets the job done.

I liked Sanak, the batarian that works as a second to Aria. He’s not very well characterized and everyone thinks he’s dumb (rise up for our national himbo), even though he reads almost smarter than her on multiple occasions, but I was happy whenever he was on the page, so yay for Sanak. But it might just be me having a bias for batarians.

Cool to have Kai Leng as a point of view character. I wasn’t enthralled by what was done with it, as he remains incredibly basic and as basically hateable and ungrounded than in Mass Effect 3 (I think he’s very underwhelming as a villain and he should have been built up in Mass Effect 2 to be effective). But there were some neat moments, such as the description of the Afterlife by Grayson who considers it as tugging at his base instincts, compared to Leng’s description of it where everything is deemed disgusting. The execution is not the best, but the concept was fun.

Pre-Reaperification Paul Grayson wasn’t the worst point of view to follow. I wasn’t super involved in his journey and didn’t care when he died one way or the other, but I empathized with his problems and hoped he would find a way out of the cycle of violence. The setup of his character arc was interesting, it’s just sad that any resolution -even negative- was dropped to focus on Reapers and his relationship with Kahlee Sanders, as I think the latter was the least interesting part.

The cover is cool and intringuing. Very soapy. It’s my favorite out of all the official novels, as it owns the cheesier aspect of the series, has nice contrasts and immediately asks questions. Very 90s/2000s. It’s great.

You may notice every thing I enjoyed was coated in complaints, because it’s a reflection of my frustration at this book for setting up interesting ideas and then completely missing the mark in their execution. So without further due, let’s talk about what I think the book didn’t do right.

1. Dumb complaints that don’t matter much

After reading the entire book, I am still a bit confused at to why Tim (the Illusive Man’s acronym is TIM in fandom, but I find immense joy in reffering to him as just Tim) wants his experimentation to be carried out on Grayson specifically, especially when getting to him is harder than pretty much anyone else (also wouldn’t pushing the very first experiments on alien captives make more sense given it’s Cerberus we’re talking about?). It seem to be done out of petty revenge, which is fine, but it still feels like quite the overlook to mess with a competent fighter, enhance him, and then expect things to stay under control (which Tim kind of doesn’t expect to, and that’s even weirder -why waste your components on something you plan to terminate almost immediately). At the same time, the pettiness is the only characterization we get out of Tim so good I guess? But if so, I wished it would have been accentuated to seem even more deliberate (and not have Tim regret to see it in himself, which flattens him and doesn’t inform the way he views the world and himself -but we’ll get to that).

I really disliked the way space travel is characterized. And that might be entirely just me, and perhaps it doesn’t contradict the rest of the lore, but space travel is so fast. People pop up left and right in a matter of hours. At some point we even get a mention of someone being able to jump 3 different Mass Relays and then arrive somewhere in 4 hours. I thought you first had to discharge your ship around a stellar object before being able to engage in the next jump (and that imply finding said object, which would have to take more than an hour). It’s not that big of a deal, but it completely crammed this giant world to a single boulevard for me and my hard-science-loving tastes. Not a big deal, but not a fan at all of this choice.

You wouldn’t believe how often people find themselves in a fight naked or in their underwear. It happens at least 3 times (and everyone naked survives -except one, we’ll get to her later).

Why did I need to know about this fifteen year’s old boner for his older teacher. Surely there were other ways to have his crush come across without this detail, or then have it be an actual point of tension in their relationship and not just a “teehee” moment. Weird choice imo.

I’m not a fan of the Talons. I don’t find them interesting or compelling. There is nothing about them that informs us on the world they live in. The fact they’re turian-ruled don’t tell us anything about turian culture that, say, the Blue Suns don’t tell us already. It’s a generic gang that is powerful because it is. I think they’re very boring, in this book and in the Omega DLC alike (a liiittle less in the DLC because of Nyreen, barely). Not a real criticism, I just don’t care for them at all.

I might just be very ace, but I didn’t find Anderson and Kahlee Sanders to have much chemistry. Same for Kahlee and Grayson (yes we do have some sort of love-triangle-but-not-really, but it’s not very important and it didn’t bother me much). Their relationships were all underwhelming to me, and I’ll explain why in part 4.

The red sand highs are barely described, and very safely -probably not from a place of intimate knowledge with drugs nor from intense research. Addiction is a delicate topic, and I feel like it could have been dealt with better, or not be included at all.

There are more of these, but I don’t want to turn this into a list of minor complaints for things that are more a matter of taste than craft quality or thematic relevance. So let’s move on.

2. Who cares about aliens in a Mass Effect novel

Now we’re getting into actual problems, and this one is kind of endemic to the Mass Effect novels (I thought the same when I read Revelation 9 years ago, though maybe less so as Saren in a PoV character -but I might have forgotten so there’s that). The aliens are described and characterized in the most uncurious, uninspired manner. Krogans are intimidating brutes. Turians are rigid. Asaris are sexy. Elcors are boring. Batarians are thugs (there is something to be said with how Aria’s second in command is literally the same batarian respawned with a different name in Mass Effect 2, this book, then the Omega DLC). Salarians are weak nerds. (if you allow me this little parenthesis because of course I have to complain about salarian characterization: the only salarian that speaks in the book talks in a cheap ripoff of Mordin’s speech pattern, which sucks because it’s specific to Mordin and not salarians as a whole, and is there to be afraid of a threat as a joke. This is SUCH a trope in the original trilogy -especially past Mass Effect 1 when they kind of give up on salarians except for a few chosen ones-, that salarians’ fear is not to be taken seriously and the only salarians who are to be considered don’t express fear at all -see Mordin and Kirrahe. It happens at least once per game, often more. This is one of the reasons why the genophage subplot is allowed to be so morally simple in ME3 and remove salarians from the equation. I get why they did that, but it’s still somewhat of a copeout. On this front, I have to give props to Andromeda for actually engaging with violence on salarians in a serious manner. It’s a refreshing change) I didn’t learn a single thing about any of these species, how they work, what they care about in the course of these 79750 words. I also didn’t learn much about their relationships to other species, including humans. I’ll mention xenophobia in more details later, but this entire aspect of the story takes a huge hit because of this lack of investment of who these species are.

I’ve always find Mass Effect, despite its sprawling universe full of vivid ideas and unique perspectives, to be strangely enamoured with humans, and it has never been so apparent than here. Only humans get to have layers, deserving of empathy and actual engagement. Only their pain is real and important. Only their death deserve mourning (we’ll come back to that). I’d speculate this comes from the same place that was terrified to have Liara as a love interest in ME1 in case she alienated the audience, and then later was surprised when half the fanbase was more interested in banging the dinosaur-bird than their fellow humans: Mass Effect often seem afraid of losing us and breaking our capacity for self-projection. It’s a very weird concern, in my opinion, that reveals the most immature, uncertain and soapy parts of the franchise. Here it’s punched to eleven, and I find it disappointing. It also have a surprising effect on the narrative: again, we’ll come back to that.

3. The squandered potential of Liselle and Aria

Okay. This one hurts. Let’s talk about Liselle: she’s introduced in the story as a teammate to Grayson, who at the time works as a merc for Aria T’loak on Omega, and also sleeps with him on the regular. She likes hitting the Afterlife’s dancefloor: she’s very admired there, as she’s described as extremely attractive. One night after receiving a call from Grayson, she rejoins him in his apartment. They have sex, then Kai Leng and other Cerberus agents barge in to capture Grayson -a fight break out (the first in a long tradition of naked/underwear fights), and both of them are stunned with tranquilizers. Grayson is to be taken to the Illusive Man. Kai Leng decides to slit Liselle’s throat as she lays unconscious to cover their tracks. When Aria T’loak and her team find her naked on a bed, throat gaping and covered in blood, Liselle is revealed, through her internal monologue, to be Aria’s secret daughter -that she kept secret for both of their safety. So Liselle is a sexpot who dies immediately in a very brutal and disempowered manner. This is a sad way to handle Aria T’loak’s daughter I think, but I assume it was done to give a strong motivation to the mother, who thinks Grayson did it. And also, it’s a cool setup to explore her psyche: how does she feel about business catching up with her in such a personal manner, how does she feel about the fact she couldn’t protect her own offspring despite all her power, what’s her relationship with loss and death, how does she slip when under high emotional stress, how does she deal with such a vulnerable position of having to cope without being able to show any sign of weakness... But the book does nothing with that. The most interesting we get is her complete absence of outward reaction when she sees her daughter as the centerpiece of a crime scene. Otherwise we have mentions that she’s not used to lose relatives, vague discomfort when someone mentions Liselle might have been raped, and vague discomfort at her body in display for everyone to gawk at. It’s not exactly revelatory behavior, and the missed potential is borderline criminal. It also doesn’t even justify itself as a strong motivation, as Aria vaguely tries to find Grayson again and then gives up until we give her intel on a silver platter. Then it almost feels as if she forgot her motivation for killing Grayson, and is as motivated by money than she is by her daughter’s murder (and that could be interesting too, but it’s not done in a deliberate way and therefore it seems more like a lack of characterization than anything else).

Now, to Aria. Because this book made me realize something I strongly dislike: the framing might constantly posture her as intelligent, but Aria T’loak is... kind of dumb, actually? In this book alone she’s misled, misinformed or tricked three different times. We’re constantly ensured she’s an amazing people reader but never once do we see this ability work in her favor -everyone fools her all the time. She doesn’t learn from her mistakes and jump from Cerberus trap to Cerberus trap, and her loosing Omega to them later is laughably stupid after the bullshit Tim put her through in this book alone. I’m not joking when I say the book has to pull out an entire paragraph on how it’s easier to lie to smart people to justify her complete dumbassery during her first negotiation with Tim. She doesn’t seem to know anything about how people work that could justify her power. She’s not politically savvy. She’s not good at manipulation. She’s just already established and very, very good at kicking ass. And I wouldn’t mind if Aria was just a brutish thug who maintains her power through violence and nothing else, that could also be interesting to have an asari act that way. But the narrative will not bow to the reality they have created for her, and keep pretending her flaw is in extreme pride only. This makes me think of the treatment of Sansa Stark in the latest seasons of Game of Thrones -the story and everyone in it is persuaded she’s a political mastermind, and in the exact same way I would adore for it to be true, but it’s just... not. It’s even worse for Aria, because Sansa does have victories by virtue of everyone being magically dumber than her whenever convenient. Aria just fails, again and again, and nobody seem to ever acknowledge it. Sadly her writing here completely justifies her writing in the Omega DLC and the comics, which I completely loathe; but turns out Aria isn’t smart or savvy, not even in posture or as a façade. She’s just violent, entitled, easily fooled, and throws public tantrums when things don’t go her way. And again, I guess that would be fine if only the narrative would recognize what she is. Me, I will gently ignore most of this (in her presentation at least, because I think it’s interesting to have something pitiful when you dig a little) and try to write her with a bit more elevation. But this was a very disappointing realization to have.

4. The squandered potential of Grayson and the Reapers

The waste of a subplot with Aria and Liselle might have hurt me more in a personal way, but what went down between Grayson and the Reapers hurts the entire series in a startling manner. And it’s so infuriating because the potential was there. Every setpiece was available to create something truly unique and disturbing by simply following the series’ own established lore. But this is not what happens. See, when The Illusive Man, our dearest Tim, captures Grayson for a betrayal that happened last book (something about his biotic autistic daughter -what’s the deal with autistic biotics being traumatized by Cerberus btw), he decides to use him as the key part of an experiment to understand how Reapers operate. So he forcefully implants the guy with Reaper technology (what they do exactly is unclear) to study his change into a husk and be prepared when Reapers come for humanity -it’s also compared to what happened with Saren when he “agreed” to be augmented by Sovereign. From there on, Grayson slowly turns into a husk. Doesn’t it sound fascinating, to be stuck in the mind of someone losing themselves to unknowable monsters? If you agree with me then I’m sorry because the execution is certainly... not that. The way the author chooses to describe the event is to use the trope of mind control used in media like Get Out: Grayson taking the backseat of his own mind and body. And I haaaaate it. I hate it so much. I don’t hate the trope itself (it can be interesting in other media, like Get Out!), but I loathe that it’s used here in a way that totally contradicts both the lore and basic biology. Grayson doesn’t find himself manipulated. He doesn’t find himself justifying increasingly jarring actions the way Saren has. He just... loses control of himself, disagreeing with what’s being done with him but not able to change much about it. He also can fight back and regain control sometimes -but his thoughts are almost untainted by Reaper influence. The technology is supposed to literally replace and reorganize the cells of his body; is this implying that body and mind are separated, that there maybe exists a soul that transcends indoctrination? I don’t know but I hate it. This also implies that every victim of the Reaper is secretely aware of what they’re doing and pained and disagreeing with their own actions. And I’m sorry but if it’s true, I think this sucks ass and removes one of the creepiest ideas of the Mass Effect universe -that identity can and will be lost, and that Reapers do not care about devouring individuality and reshaping it to the whims of their inexorable march. Keeping a clear stream of consciousness in the victim’s body makes it feel like a curse and not like a disease. None of the victims are truly gone that way, and it removes so much of the tragic powerlessness of organics in their fight against the machines. Imagine if Saren watched himself be a meanie and being like “nooo” from within until he had a chance to kill himself in a near-victorious battle, compared to him being completely persuaded he’s acting for the good of organic life until, for a split second, he comes to realize he doesn’t make any sense and is loosing his mind like someone with dementia would, and needs to grasp to this instant to make the last possible thing he could do to save others and his own mind from domination. I feel so little things for Saren in the former case, and so much for the latter. But it might just be me: I’m deeply touched by the exploration of how environment and things like medication can change someone’s behavior, it’s such a painfully human subject while forceful mind control is... just kind of cheap.

SPEAKING OF THE REAPERS. Did you know “The Reapers” as an entity is an actual character in this book? Because it is. And “The Reapers” is not a good character. During the introduction of Grayson and explaining his troubles, we get presented with the mean little voice in his head. It’s his thoughts in italics, nothing crazy, in fact it’s a little bit of a copeout from actually implementing his insecurities into the prose. But I gave the author the benefit of the doubt, as I knew Grayson would be indoctrinated later, and I fully expected the little voice to slowly start twisting into what the Reapers suggested to him. This doesn’t happen, or at least not in that slowburn sort of way. Instead the little voice is dropped almost immediately, and the Reapers are described, as a presence. And as the infection progresses, what Grayson do become what the Reapers do. The Reapers have emotions, it turns out. They’re disgusted at organic discharges. They’re pleased when Grayson accomplish what they want, and it’s told as such. They foment little plans to get their puppet to point A to point B, and we are privy to their calculations. And I’m sorry but the best way to ruin your lovecraftian concept is to try and explain its motivations and how it thinks. Because by definition the unknown is scarier, smarter, and colder than whatever a human author could come up with. I couldn’t take the Reapers’ dumb infiltration plans seriously, and now I think they are dumb all the time, and I didn’t want to!! The only cases in which the Reapers influence Grayson, we are told in very explicit details how so. For example, they won’t let Grayson commit suicide by flooding his brain with hope and determination when he tries, or they will change the words he types when he tries to send a message to Kahlee Sanders. And we are told exactly what they do every time. There was a glorious occasion to flex as a writer by diving deep into an unreliable narrator and write incredibly creepy prose, but I guess we could have been confused, and apparently that’s not allowed. And all of this is handled that poorly becauuuuuse...

5. Subtext is dead and Drew killed it

Now we need to talk about the prose. The style of the author is... let’s be generous and call it functional. It’s about clarity. The writing is so involved in its quest for clarity that it basically ruins the book, and most of the previous issues are direct consequences of the prose and adjacent decisions.The direct prose issues are puzzling, as they are known as rookie technical flaws and not something I would expect from the series’ Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and 2, but in this book we find problems such as:

The reliance on adverbs. Example: "Breathing heavily from the exertion, he stood up slowly”. I have nothing about a well-placed adverb that gives a verb a revelatory twist, but these could be replaced by stronger verbs, or cut altogether.

Filtering. Example: “Anderson knew that the fact they were getting no response was a bad sign”. This example is particularly egregious, but characters know things, feel things, realize things (boy do they realize things)... And this pulls us away from their internal world instead of making us live what they live, expliciting what should be implicit. For example, consider the alternative: “They were getting no reponse, which was a bad sign in Anderson’s experience.” We don’t really need the “in Anderson’s experience” either, but that already brings us significantly closer to his world, his lived experience as a soldier.

The goddamn dialogue tags. This one is the worst offender of the bunch. Nobody is allowed to talk without a dialogue tag in this book, and wow do people imply, admit, inform, remark and every other verb under the sun. Consider this example, which made me lose my mind a little: “What are you talking about? Kahlee wanted to know.” I couldn’t find it again, but I’m fairly certain I read a “What is it?” Anderson wanted to know. as well. Not only is it very distracting, it’s also yet another way to remove reader interpretation from the equation (also sometimes there will be a paragraph break inside a monologue -not even a long one-, and that doesn’t seem to be justified by anything? It’s not as big of a problem than the aversion to subtext, but it still confused me more than once)

Another writing choice that hurts the book in disproportionate ways is the reliance on point of view switches. In Retribution, we get the point of view of: Tim, Paul Grayson, Kai Leng, Kahlee Sanders, David Anderson, Aria T’loak, and Nick (a biotic teenager, the one with the boner). Maybe Sanak had a very small section too, but I couldn’t find it again so don’t take my word for it. That’s too many point of views for a plot-heavy 80k book in my opinion, but even besides that: the point of view switch several times in one single chapter. This is done in the most harmful way possible for tension: characters involved in the same scene take turns on the page explaining their perspective about the events, in a way that leaves the reader entirely aware of every stake to every character and every information that would be relevant in a scene. Take for example the first negotiation between Aria and Tim. The second Aria needs to ponder what her best move could possibly be, we get thrown back into Tim’s perspective explaining the exact ways in which he’s trying to deceive her -removing our agency to be either convinced or fooled alongside her. This results in a book that goes out of his way to keep us from engaging with its ideas and do any mental work on our own. Everything is laid out, bare and as overexplained as humanly possible. The format is also very repetitive: characters talk or do an action, and then we spend a paragraph explaining the exact mental reasoning for why they did what they did. There is nothing to interpret. No subtext at all whatsoever; and this contributes in casting a harsh light on the Mass Effect universe, cheapening it and overtly expliciting some of its worst ideas instead of leaving them politely blurred and for us to dress up in our minds. There is only one theme that remains subtextual in my opinion. And it’s not a pretty one.

6. Violence

So here’s the thing when you adapt a third person shooter into a novel: you created a violent world and now you will have to deal with death en-masse too (get it get it I’m so sorry). But while in videogames you can get away with thoughtless murder because it’s a gameplay mechanic and you’re not expected to philosophize on every splatter of blood, novels are all about internalization. Violent murder is by definition more uncomfortable in books, because we’re out of gamer conventions and now every death is actual when in games we just spawned more guys because we wanted that level to be a bit harder and on a subconscious level we know this and it makes it somewhat okay. I felt, in this book, a strange disconnect between the horrendous violence and the fact we’re expected to care about it like we would in a game: not much, or as a spectacle. Like in a game, we are expected to root for the safety of named characters the story indicated us we should be invested in. And because we’re in a book, this doesn’t feel like the objective truth of the universe spelled at us through user interface and quest logs, but the subjective worldview of the characters we’re following. And that makes them.... somewhat disturbing to follow.

I haven’t touched on Anderson and Kahlee Sanders much yet, but now I guess I have too, as they are the worst offenders of what is mentioned above. Kahlee cares about Grayson. She only cares about Grayson -and her students like the forementioned Nick, but mostly Grayson. Grayson is out there murdering people like it’s nobody’s business, but still, keeping Grayson alive is more important that people dying like flies around him. This is vaguely touched on, but not with the gravitas that I think was warranted. Also, Anderson goes with it. Because he cares about Kahlee. Anderson organizes a major political scandal between humans and turians because of Kahlee, because of Grayson. He convinces turians to risk a lot to bring Cerberus down, and I guess that could be understandable, but it’s mostly manipulation for the sake of Grayson’s survival: and a lot of turians die as a result. But not only turians: I was not comfortable with how casually the course of action to deal a huge blow to Cerberus and try to bring the organization down was to launch assault on stations and cover-ups for their organization. Not mass arrests: military assault. They came to arrest high operatives, maybe, but the grunts were okay to slaughter. This universe has a problem with systemic violence by the supposedly good guys in charge -and it’s always held up as the righteous and efficient way compared to these UGH boring politicians and these treaties and peace and such (amirite Anderson). And as the cadavers pile up, it starts to make our loveable protagonists... kind of self-centered assholes. Also: I think we might want to touch on who these cadavers tend to be, and get to my biggest point of discomfort with this novel.

Xenophobia is hard to write well, and I super sympathize with the attempts made and their inherent difficulty. This novel tries to evoke this theme in multiple ways: by virtue of having Cerberus’ heart and blade as point of view characters, we get a window into Tim and Kai Leng’s bigotry against aliens, and how this belief informs their actions. I wasn’t ever sold in their bigotry as it was shown to us. Tim evokes his scorn for whatever aliens do and how it’s inferior to humanity’s resilience -but it’s surface-level, not informed by deep and specific entranched beliefs on aliens motives and bodies, and how they are a threat on humanity according to them. The history of Mass Effect is rich with conflict and baggage between species, yet every expression of hatred is relegated to a vague “eww aliens” that doesn’t feed off systemically enforced beliefs but personal feelings of mistrust and disgust. I’ll take this example of Kai Leng, and his supposedly revulsion at the Afterlife as a peak example of alien decadence: he sees an asari in skimpy clothing, and deems her “whorish”. And this feels... off. Not because I don’t think Kai Leng would consider asaris whorish, but because this is supposed to represent Cerberus’ core beliefs: yet both him and Tim go on and on about how their goal is to uplift humanity, how no human is an enemy. But if that’s the case, then what makes Kai Leng call an Afterlife asari whorish and mean it in a way that’s meaningfully different from how he would consider a human sex worker in similar dispositions? Not that I don’t buy that Cerberus would have a very specific idea of what humans need to be to be considered worth preserving as good little ur-fascists, but this internal bias is never expressed in any way, and it makes the whole act feel hollow. Cerberus is not the only offender, though. Every time an alien expresses bias against humans in a way we’re meant to recognize as xenophobic, it reads the same way: as personal dislike and suspicion. As bullying. Which is such a small part of what bigotry encompasses. It’s so unspecific and divorced from their common history that it just never truly works in my opinion. You know what I thought worked, though? The golden trio of non-Cerberus human characters, and their attitude towards aliens. Grayson’s slight fetishism and suspicion of his attraction to Liselle, how bestial (in a cool, sexy way) he perceives the Afterlife to be. The way Anderson and Kahlee use turians for their own ends and do not spare a single thought towards those who died directly trying to protect them or Grayson immediately after the fact (they are more interested in Kahlee’s broken fingers and in kissing each other). How they feel disgust watching turians looting Cerberus soldiers, not because it’s disrespectful in general and the deaths are a inherent tragedy but because they are turians and the dead are humans. But it's not even really on them: the narration itself is engrossed by the suffering of humans, but aliens are relegated to setpieces in gore spectacles. Not even Grayson truly cares about the aliens the Reapers make him kill. Nobody does. Not even the aliens among each other: see, once again, Aria and Liselle, or Aria and Sanak. Nobody cares. At the very end of the story, Anderson comes to Kahlee and asks if she gives him permission to have Grayson’s body studied, the same way Cerberus planned to. It’s source of discomfort, but Kahlee gives in as it’s important, and probably what Grayson would have wanted, maybe? So yeah. In the end the only subtextual theme to find here (probably as an accident) is how the Alliance’s good guys are not that different from Cerberus it turns out. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

7. Lore-approved books, or the art of shrinking an expanding universe

I’d like to open the conversation on a bigger topic: the very practice of game novelization, or IP-books. Because as much as I think Drew Karpyshyn’s final draft should not have ended up reading that amateur given the credits to his name, I really want to acknowledge the realities of this industry, and why the whole endeavor was perhaps doomed from the start regardless of Karpyshyn’s talent or wishes as an author.

The most jarring thing about this reading experience is as follows: I spent almost 80k words exploring this universe with new characters and side characters, all of them supposedly cool and interesting, and I learned nothing. I learned nothing new about the world, nothing new about the characters. Now that it’s over, I’m left wondering how I could chew on so much and gain so little. Maybe it’s just me, but more likely it’s by design. Not on poor Drew. Now that I did IP work myself, I have developed an acute sympathy for anyone who has to deal with the maddening contradictions of this type of business. Let me explain.

IP-adjacent media (in the West at least) sure has for goal to expand the universe: but expand as in bloat, not as in deepen. The target for this book is nerds like me, who liked the games and want more of this thing we liked. But then we’re confronted by two major competitors: the actual original media (in ME’s case, the games) whose this product is a marketing tool for, and fandom. IP books are not allowed to compete with the main media: the good ideas are for the main media, and any meaningful development has to be made in the main media (see: what happened with Kai Leng, or how everyone including me complains about the worldbuilding to the Disney Star Swars trilogy being hidden in the novelization). And when it comes to authorship (as in: taking an actual risk with the media and give it a personal spin), then we risk introducing ideas that complicate the main media even though a ridiculously small percent of the public will be attached to it, or ideas that fans despise. Of course we can’t have the latter. And once the fandom is huge enough, digging into anything the fans have strong headcanons for already risks creating a lot of emotions once some of these are made canon and some are disregarded. As much as I joke about how in Mass Effect you can learn about any gun in excrutiating details but we still don’t know if asaris have a concept for marriage... would we really want to know how/if asaris marry, or aren’t we glad we get to be creative and put our own spin on things? The dance between fandom and canon is a delicate one that can and will go wrong. And IP books are generally not worth the drama for the stakeholders.

Add this to insane deadlines, numerous parties all involved in some way and the usual struggles of book writing, and we get a situation where creating anything of value is pretty much a herculean task.

But then I ask... why do IP books *have* to be considered canon? I know this is part of the appeal, and that removing the “licenced” part only leaves us with published fanfiction, but... yeah. Yeah. I think it could be a fascinating model. Can you imagine having your IP and hiring X amount of distinctive authors to give it their own spin, not as definitive additions to the world but as creative endeavours and authorial deepdives? It would allow for these novels to be comparative and companion to the main media instead of being weird appendages that can never compare, and the structure would allow for these stories to be polished and edited to a higher level than most fanfictions. Of course I’m biased because I have a deep belief in the power of fanfiction as commentary and conversational piece. But I would really love to see companies’ approach to creative risk and canon to change. We might get Disney stuff until we die now, so the least we can ask for is for this content to be a little weird, personal and human.

That’s it. That’s the whole review. Thank you for reading, it was very long and weirdly passionate, have a nice dayyyyy.

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

A Proposal for The Ages (pt. 1)

Charles Lee Ray x Poe

Word Count: 1053

Tag List: @heavenshipped @ghostlyvenus @the-schizotypal-cryptid @fangedwife

Summary: Me/my s/i and Chucky have been married for a year, and I wrote a wedding fic way back when I first started this blog and way back when I had feelings for Tiffany, but now I just ship with Chucky and he has a poly relationship with me and Tiffany seperately. Anyway, I wanted to write a proposal fic based on new lore I dropped yesterday(?) or whatever.

Warnings: Uhh makeout session. Oh and brief mentions that someone’s been probably taking photos of Charles for blackmail or other reasons, it’s not a story beat I’ll come back to by any means, it was just filler shgsghshg...

Like my writing? Consider Reblogging 🔁 or leaving a nice Comment 💬! Thank you!

Charles was particularly giddy when he came home in the evening… giddy, but slightly nervous. He’d been with Poe much shorter than he’d been with Tiffany, and he had never considered marrying her. And, God, if God existed, did he adore Poe… he didn’t know what he’d do if they rejected him. Storm off, maybe. Try his damndest not to get frustrated and see it from their point of view…

Ah, but why worry about that? Poe already seemed ready to follow him to the ends of the Earth, bailing him out of police stations and killing for him. If they weren’t ready for marriage, surely things would still work out.

“Pooh-bear, I’m home!~” He crooned as he entered their place. The ring box was tucked securely in his back pocket for quick access.

“I’m in my office!” Poe called down the hallway. Charles raised his eyebrows. Typically they’d be eager to be wrapped in his embrace as soon as he returned from a day of thievery, stalking, etc. He hung his coat on the nearby hook and removed his shoes before finding Poe staring hard at numerous photos on their desk.

“Something keeping you busy?” He asked as he came around behind them, kissing the top of their head.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” they hummed. “Took some photos today and having trouble deciding what I should hand over to the papers… but I also found these, not in my camera.”

Poe picked up several fuzzy photos they were certain were of Charles. “I think somebody left these out where I would specifically find them. It’s not obvious, but I can assume they’re of you… not directly threatening considering they’re out of focus, but enough to make me worry about someone blackmailing you in the future. Or whatever they’d need photos of you for.”

Charles gently guided their hands back down to the desk so they’d set the photos down before turning their roller chair around to face him, taking their hands.

“Babe, don’t worry about that.” He told them firmly, a jittery smile playing on his lips. Poe cocked their head to the side.

“What’s got you acting like there’s ants in your pants and bats in your belfry?”

Charles pulled them to their feet, caressing their soft cheek.

“Poe, you know I love you, right? Desperately so.” His voice lowered as he spoke his intimate truth. His partner, however, remained skeptical.

“Charles Lee Ray, what are you getting at?”

“I’m being serious right now, Poe.” He gently gripped their shoulders, looking intensely at them. “Could you stop having an attitude for a second? I mean, you know I like it when you get aggressive, but…”

He took a breath, trying to calm himself. Poe’s expression and tone softened, their hands coming to rest on top of his.

“Alright, go on. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I know what I’m like…” he cleared his throat. “Now, I know we’ve only been together about a year and a half now… that’s not a long time compared to how long I’ve been dating Tiff, but this isn’t about her. This is about how you make me feel… like some sort of animal, like I’d follow you into a burning building in the name of loyalty, like I’d tear apart anyone who dared to threaten or hurt you; and you know it’d kill me if I let someone hurt you.”

Poe watched him, mesmerized. It wasn’t often Charles tapped into his true feelings.

“You mean all that?”

“Yes. And that’s why…” Charles’ hands slipped from Poe’s shoulders and he knelt, retrieving the ring box from his pocket, “I want to be joined closer. I want to be yours, officially, forever and for always. Even in death, and after that. Poe, doll, will you marry me?”

He opened the box and Poe gasped as realization hit, tears welling in their eyes.

“Oh, Chucky, I never expected… yes!” They choked out. Charles froze for a moment, disbelieving.

“You mean it?” He asked quietly, his face burning.

“Of course I mean it!” Poe giggled, helping him to his feet. He set aside the ring box and picked Poe up, their legs wrapping around him as they kissed through their joyous tears.

“Oh, baby, I was… I… fuck, you always have been this emotional, huh?” He couldn’t bring himself to voice his fear, but he could absolutely tease them between the kisses that quickly turned passionate and aggressive, to the point they were gasping. They were just so full of absolute love and lust for each other… a match made in Hell, with all the best attributes. Charles clumsily cleared some space on Poe’s desk before setting them down, still staying as close as he possibly could to them.

“It’s not my fault, asshole. I love you.” Poe retorted, stealing another kiss. Charles wiped away the tears that still clung to their cheeks, picking the ring box back up and slipping a gorgeous sapphire ring onto his partner’s finger.

“I love you.” He echoed. Poe rested their head against his chest as they both took a moment to breathe and cherish what all had happened over the course of a few minutes.

“... Not to kill the mood, Chuck… but have you conversed with Tiffany about this? I know she’s been comfortable with the relationship setup we have right now but… you know me, I don’t want to kill my friendship with her over something like this, which should be a happy occasion.”

Charles sighed, pulling away and studying the carpet instead of meeting Poe’s gaze.

“No… but you’re going to make me, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s only fair. And you’ve been visiting her regularly? Not showing any bias?”

“Of course!” Charles threw his hands up in a short burst of exasperation.

“Alright, calm down… I won’t push you about it tonight. Let’s order a pizza.” Poe stood to grab their phone, gently tracing Charles’ arm in a soothing manner. He kissed the top of their head again, intertwining his fingers with theirs.

“I love you.~” He said once more, though this time in a sing-songy tone to lift the unintentionally stressful atmosphere. Poe snorted.

“You’re such a dork…” they then chuckled, “I get to call you my fiancé now.~”

“Who’s the dork, again?”