#otherwise I will do it myself but I need someone to help/assist/guide me

[hymn-of-muse]

Baked with love

to Cole Brookstone x reader! requested by anon!

"is that..chocolate i smell?" a brunette clad in blue poked his head curiously into the kitchen, sniffing the air as if following his nose in a cartoon.

"yes, you do, but its not for you Jay." you informed, slapping his hand away from the bowl of batter when he tried to reach for it. "I'm making a cake-"

"cake? awesome! whats the special occasion? oh no did i forget someone's birthday??" the lighting ninja cut you off with his rambling, quickly jumping to conclusions faster than you could keep up with.

"-for Cole." you finished with a slight pout, crossing your arms over your apron. now that you said it out loud you felt a little embarrassed about it.

"wait, youre making a cake for cole? i though his birthday wasnt for like, another whole two months-ohhh" the look of embarrassment on your face finally made things click in jay's head. "aawe, youre making cole a cake." he cooed and teaed, lightly and playfully nudging your arm.

"shut up, Jay." you sighed, rolling you eyes at him before turning back to the bowl of chocolate cake batter to finish mixing it. "i want to surprise him so dont go telling him, alright? now if youre going to be in the kitchen im gonna make you help out, otherwise buzz off sparky."

"haha" jay gave a sarcastic laugh at the nickname. "you'd have way better luck at baking with zane than me, and with the mess youre making you probably need him." jay pointed out, gesturing to the mess of flour, egg shells and other ingredients on the counter space.

looking at the mess you groaned. "yeahh, youre right i probably do...you'll find him for me right?" you turned to face jay, puppy dog eyes and batted lashes at the ready.

"ah! not that face!! okay i'll go get him!" jay laughed, never one to say no to a cute face like the pleading puppy dog eyes. "Better clean up before sensei Wu gets back though." he said as he left the kitchen.

You went right back to baking after Jay left, starting to clean up a little bit of the mess and finish up the batter. you still needed to get the icing ready and on top of that you werent even sure in the first place if cole would even like the cake you made let alone if it would turn out okay. you really worried about that and hoped everything would turn out okay in the end, but you couldnt help letting that worry get to you, making you accidentally fumble a bit with the ingredients in your hands and worsening the mess the kitchen already was in.

"careful-" a familiar slight-monotonous voice rang out as a hand caught an egg that just about rolled off the counter and onto the floor, preventing it from platting all over the wood. "-got it."

in your haste to clean up the mess and finish the cake you hadn't notice Zane enter the kitchen. "I see Jay was not joking when he said you needed my assistance." Zane teased, letting out a light hearted chuckle as he placed the egg back into the opened carton with the rest and closed it.

"yeah, im..a mess myself today." you sighed, gesturing to the mess both on yourself and the area around the counterspace you used. "i dont think the cake's going to turn out so good zane"

"i'm sure you've done fine so far (name)." zane assured you. "why dont you finish following the recipe, i'll guide you while cleaning up some of the mess." he offered. "that way, it will still be you making the cake."

"that sounds good to me, you didnt have to take on the task of cleaning though, i could handle that part no problem." you said, feeling a bit guilty about your friend cleaning up your mess.

"nonsense, it is no trouble at all." zane smiled, already getting started on cleaning by grabbing the broom to sweep up the flour on the floor. "we'll be done and have the cake in the oven in no time." he nodded

and like he said, with his assistance on measurements and following the recipe, you felt just a bit less worried and time practically flew by. before you knew it the timer went off just as you two had finished up cleaning the kitchen and the cake was ready to take out of the oven.

"do you think he'll like it...? i mean, cole likes cake, yeah, but im worried he wont like this one..." you confided in your friend about your concerns as you placed the hot cake on the stove to cool before it could be iced.

"what makes you think he will not like it?" zane questioned, wanting to understand your worries better in order to help you however he can. "you followed the recipe quite well, and the cake looks to have turned out just right, do you lack confidence in your ability to decorate the cake with icing?"

"maybe? i dont know zane..." you sighed. "im just worried he wont like it, thats all." you werent sure why, rationally your concern didnt make much sense but you still worried either way. no matter what the reason was there was still a chance and to you that chance was scary.

"I am certain cole will love the cake, you made it after all." zane stated, patting you on the shoulder in attempt to comfort you with a small smile on his face.

before you could even ask the nindroid what he meant by that statement, he had already headed out the kitchen and left you to ice the cake on your own.

You hoped the two, Zane and Jay, wouldnt go spoiling your surprise and telling cole you were making him a cake. You wanted it to be a nice surprise, hopefully one he'd like. Even with Zane's assurance, you couldnt help feeling worried cole wouldnt like the cake in the end.

Soon you had the cake iced and decorated with chocolate and vanilla frosting. It was ready to be served! You just needed to figure out how to surprise Cole with it.

Getting Cole into the room would be the easy part, last you'd seen him he was playing a video game with Kai and Lloyd in the living room, but surprising him with the cake without him already suspecting the surprise is the difficult part.

Poking your head into the living room, you smiled seeing they were still there, and Lloyd was kicking both their butts in the game. "Awe man!" Kai and Cole groaned as Lloyd got the Victory screen.

"Hey Cole?" you called out from the doorway, leaning your shoulder on the door frame.

Cole glanced over at you from the game. "Hey (name), whats up?" he waved a bit, offering you a friendly smile.

"I just wanted to show you something, could you come with me?" you asked, gesturing out into the hallway of the ninja residence with a nod of your head.

"ooooh, (name) wants alone time with cole~" kai joked, nudging cole teasingly earning him a shove from cole and a laugh from Lloyd.

"knock it off kai." cole got up and followed you out. "so what is it you wanna show me?" he asked before you took his hands and placed them over his eyes.

"just follow me, then you'll see." you said, placing a hand under his arm to help lead him through the hallway back to the kitchen.

"do i get to guess what it is?" he chuckled, fully trusting your leadership as he walked blindly with you down the hall.

"nope, no guessing, its a surprise, you cant know till we get there." you insisted, hoping your nervousness didnt show in your voice when you spoke.

once you reached the kitchen you got him to stop so you could stand in front of the cake. thankfully, you got him to not suspect the surprise by keeping him from seeing he was headed to the kitchen. "okay, you can open your eyes now." you said, a nervous smile on your face as he removed his hands.

you stepped aside to reveal the cake. "tada!" you giggled a bit, arms extended out to gesture to the cake. "i...made you a-"

"Cake!!" cole nearly shouted, a huge smile on his face. "a chocolate cake!! you made it? for me?" he asked excitedly, grinning. it made you relieved and happy to see how happy it made him.

"yup" you nodded, smiling back, though you were still nervous about how he'd like it once he ate it.

"thats so awesome of you! can i have a piece now?" he asked, already going for a plate and cutlery. he wasnt going to take a no, he was set on trying the cake right now, not that you'd tell him no anyways.

Cole cut a slice of the cake, sliding it onto the plate he got out then picking up his fork, poking the slice and taking a bite. there was a minute of silence before he took another bite.

"so...what do you think? is it good?" you wondered, hoping his silence what a good sign rather than a bad one.

Cole turned to you, eyes wide and happy. "its so good, please always make cake." he managed to say between bites of cake. he was really enjoying it.

you let out a sigh of relief, so glad he liked your cake after all. "im glad you like it."

"like it?? nuh uh, i love it!!" he insisted. "Its gotta be the best cake ever, i swear." his enthusiasm got a soft giggle out of you. he was so cute, you couldnt help adoring him. "thank you (name)"

"youre welcome, cole."

[the-inkwell-variable]

Writeblr Interview Tag!

Thanks so much for the tag, @sableglass!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels all the way. I've tried my hand at short stories, and they always end up being novellas or straight up novels by the time I'm done with them. May as well stick with what my little brain clearly desires!

What genre do you prefer reading?

Mysteries (cozy or otherwise), horror (especially zombie fiction or apocalypse fiction, yes please), fantasy (especially cozy, I love cozy fantasy so much, have you read Legends and Lattes?), and romance.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

I'm a little of both! I'll generally have a plan in my head at the very least, if not a brief outline written down somewhere, but when I actually sit down to write, my writing tends to veer off wherever it wants and do its own thing (for example, FUCKING CHUCK). As long as it makes sense, I tend to just let it go wherever it wants lol

What music do you listen to while writing?

Surprisingly, I don't listen to much music while writing. I'll daydream to it, absolutely, but I mostly just throw on some Markiplier or an old debate that I've heard ten thousand times and write to that. It's more about the background noise than the actual content, y'know?

But when I DO listen to music, I drift toward lofi or mood music compilations on youtube. The kind that DMs play during their DnD sessions. Love those so much, they really help keep me locked in a single mood, which I absolutely need when I'm writing a scene.

Favorite books/movies?

Oh god. Lord of the Rings (including the Hobbit don't @ me). Train to Busan (or any Korean zombie movies/shows, really). Some Disney and Pixar - Big Hero 6, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, Emperor's New Groove, etc. The Strain is one of my favorite TV shows - I also love Cutthroat Kitchen above all else, a bunch of different anime, and Dance Moms (yes I know it's toxic and yes I am ashamed of myself for enjoying it. I pity the kids but I rage at the moms.)

As for books, my favorites are the Beechwood Harbor Mystery series, The Luminous Dead, Thief Liar Lady, All Systems Red, Legends and Lattes, A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking, anything Holly Black, Suffer the Children, Contagion, Luck in the Shadows, Assistant to the Villain, Dead of Night, and Surviving the Evacuation!

Any current WIPs?

Oh gosh. I'm bopping between From Carnival to Chamomile, a prequel to a cozy mystery series, and Dauntless, a zombie apocalypse trilogy, right now. Sometimes I'll work on Priestess Without Honor, a paranormal low-fantasy romance, and Chosen Against My Will, a dark mafia romance. I also have zer0 ALPHA, a lit-rpg isekai zombie apocalypse novel, but I haven't touched that in years and have only recently rediscovered my notes for it.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

I wear the same thing every day, surprisingly. That's the autism for ya. I love jeans and a T-shirt, especially if that T-shirt has a picture from an anime or show or something like that. Printed shirts, I think they're called. Oh, and mismatched socks. That's me.

Create a character description of yourself: 

Too tall for her own good and unwanted curves for days. Bobbed dark-blue hair with steel gray eyes. Too busy writing or gaming to really notice what's going on. Expect a text back within seconds of receiving it - she reads faster than most people expect and tends to read every text twice just to give it that safety buffer. If there isn't a snack and a drink nearby, call the police.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Hehehehe maybe. But not exactly in a good way. I'm very much the kind of person who will put someone I dislike into my book just so they can get the justice they won't get in the real world, even over something as minor as pronouncing my name wrong on purpose (I'm looking at you, Keiara).

Are you kill happy with your characters?

I want to say yes because I kill off characters constantly, but when it comes to my main OCs, no. I can't bring myself to kill them at all. I go out of my way to create characters for death (like FUCKING CHUCK) rather than put my favorites in the line of fire. I think that's a problem I need to work on.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

coffeecoffeecoffeecoffee

but I do love tea, especially in the fall. In the fall, I tend to drift toward tea and apple cider rather than coffee.

But otherwise? Coffeeeeeee

Slow or fast writer?

Fast writer when I actually sit down to write! Slow writer when I'm procrastinating. I've been working on Dauntless for...thirteen years? Twelve?

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

I get inspiration from EVERYTHING. Dreams. Books. Movies. Something dumb my partner says offhandedly.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

I absolutely want to be something cool, like a shadow mage. But I'm probably a little gremlin that hides in the edges of the woods and steals your socks. Mmmm socks.

Most fav book cliche:

Enemies to lovers! Especially when one person is smitten at firstt sight and doesn't realize it.

Least favorite cliche:

Friendship is magic. Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with powerful friendships being front and center, but when the big bad is literally destroyed because fRiEnDsHiP I gag a little bit. I also hate undeserved happy endings - make the ending make sense. If it's a sad or horror book, sometimes the ending needs to be bad. And finally, forced romance. No. No thank you. Some stories don't need romance.

Favorite scene to write?

Descriptions! Am I good at them? No. Will I spend three pages describing a tree? Maybe.

Also conversations. I tend to do a lot of conversations and monologues in my writing. Need to work on that.

Reason for writing?

If I don't write down the ideas in my head, I will explode.

TAGLIST: @falconfate - @space-writes - @leahnardo-da-veggie - @i-can-even-burn-salad - anyone who wants to take part!

[wingedpizzachopshop]

Pagal samjha hai kya?

There have been moments when I've witnessed someone conversing with themselves as if someone else were standing next to them.  "What is wrong with that person?" was a question I frequently asked myself. "Why is he talking to himself?" you may wonder. "Is he losing his mind?"  "Why is he acting in this manner?" The question "Is he schizophrenic?"  "That person needs some mental health assistance." In light of the fact that schizophrenia is a severe mental disorder that has an impact on a person's thoughts, feelings, and behaviour, I began to question, "What is the meaning of schizophrenia?" The person has trouble distinguishing between genuine and imagined events, thinking logically, expressing thoughts, or acting in a suitable manner. Schizophrenia seems to be very unreal until you see instance of sorts which dont let you think otherwise, A person close to you only can make or break the belief of the same. My perspective towards the word changed completely after I did have to read about what it was due to circumstances in my personal sphere. Schizophrenia is a serious mental disorder in which people interpret reality abnormally, in some combinations of hallucinations, delusions, and extremely disordered thinking and behaviour that impairs daily functioning, and can be disabling. An example of this might just be what i need to express to fell better about what I face everyday and every second of the day. Imagine having a person harm their health in turn of someone else’s doing, mind you we cant make sense of what the explanation is provided for the practices that lead due to this 3rd “entity” that uninvitedly entered our lives with no context of even if they are really a part of it. Blame game and the tit for tat to feel better, being pissed of and frustrated, feeling attacked and helpless, surrounded by only enemies is the invoked feeling of the victim of the disorder. Can I really lend a hand to help only to keep the relationship together or will that be denied too? Will the helping hand be thought of as something that is again an attack to the relation and to their behaviour? It is always a very sad feeling to have the exclaimation of a loss at all time’s in any possible solutions that you might come up with because the brain is so strong and deteriorating which leave’s no wiggle room of negotiation within this relationship except hoping that time will make everything better. Every step or every conversation might lead to a breakdown of both the people since one wants the best for the other and the other can’t help but listen to it’s inner voice out of no choice as well. If denied the want of the inner voice there’s a knocking demon who is ready to ruin everything within a moment in the exchange of words. Does this mean that 17 year old me would give up on everything? No, you stick through it with the most brightest hope after every incident that occurs due to it because you grow so much more and learn how to treat someone a bit better everyday. But do you realise what you need to do instantly? Again no, it take’s the most eldest or the more experienced to guide you along the problems or what you might be doing wrong because human’s dont accept or mention their flaws unless told so. So to tackle, the help you can give in an indian household is to stay there and keep the fort strong as much as you can and empathy goes a long way. Medically getting the treatment is tough to accept here and often termed as “pagal samajh rakha hai” whenever it involves the brain, which again speaks that you dont support the person and make’s everything worse. So avoidance of triggers is also what is necessary. Without these everyone goes through these feeling of isolatation and helplessness which make’s it tougher for making it through the day.

[gayawakeningrevived]

Sorry for asking again.

So can you give me some guide about getting the support conversation.bin.lz file?

Sorry it my first to do this, since some conversation I want already in spreadsheet, it that mean the Mod already make the .bin.lz file? Or just someone give the idea so we can coding more easily?

Sorry for asking you again but still I want to see good conversation.

I'm going to need additional context to assist on this one, I have no idea what you're talking about. I would also prefer to give any tech support help via our Discord server so that it doesn't clog up people's feeds. This seems extremely specific, and I suspect that it is answered by our documentation, so please have a look through there if you haven't already.

>All of the currently released .bin.lz files are included in the hack, if you've set it up correctly using the How To guide provided, you should not have any loose files. Unless this is about the M!Robin/Lon'qu support that I posted earlier today, in which case... all you have to do is follow the "Adding In Your Own Custom Supports:" section in this How To guide. It's just a matter of dragging and dropping into a folder.

>Which support(s) are you looking for? Have you read the spreadsheet's key at the bottom of the page?

>If it has not been written or even claimed yet, you may claim it yourself. We don't take requests for OTHER people to prioritize a pairing, and we also don't accept any commissioned writing from others. This is to prevent several (primarily legal) issues that I won't get into here.

You do not need to code supports yourself, but there is currently one singular person (myself) editing, coding and implementing them, so I ask that you be patient, as this is a long process with many, many supports ahead of any that have been submitted recently. If you are asking for a specific support to take precedence, I'm afraid I'll have to be the bearer of bad news and say that you will need to do it all yourself here, as you'll have a long wait ahead of you otherwise. You can check the Claimed Supports List and Spreadsheet for information on the status of any given support.

I am also requesting that you give our FAQ a good once-over before sending in another ask, as plenty of this is covered on there and I'd rather not repeat myself.

[jaskierisbi]

look all I’m saying is that a geraskefer songvid of taylor’s don’t blame me would fucking slap

[shihalyfie]

A guide to watching Digimon in Japanese

I get a few questions once in a while about help finding Digimon in Japanese, and it’s a tricky situation because as much as I’d like to plop an official streaming link down and call it a day at every opportunity, we’re still not quite at the point where Digimon in Japanese has official subtitles or is available in every country, even though I would love for this to be the case someday. That said, we are fortunate in that every Digimon series has been diligently translated by someone out there!

For those who are interested in watching Digimon in Japanese (with subtitles or otherwise), it can be pretty tricky to navigate, especially for the older series, so I've decided to write a bit of a helper with my recommended versions, with links to watch them officially whenever they’re available. (Unfortunately, some of these official outlets aren't options for those in certain countries, so I'll try to provide options in those cases.) I will not be providing direct links to (ahem) unofficial sources, but this should at least be a pointer in the right direction for those, and I’ll also be including links and pointers for where to buy the actual raw Japanese version, in case you don’t need subtitles or you simply want to support the series and have a nice box of your favorite.

For the sake of brevity, this will only include the TV series and their tie-in theatrical movies, but if you’re looking for other franchise side media, a lot of the below translators have those as well. I’ll try to keep this post updated as things change (although I can’t make any guarantees).

Note: Thank you to some friends in other countries who assisted me in gathering info regarding some of the official releases I wasn’t able to access myself.

Overview

The following have regularly put out Digimon content:

Crunchyroll is the main official outlet for subtitled Digimon, so you should always look there first to see what they have. Anything that’s not currently airing is generally available for free as long as it’s not simulcast. However, its library and terms vary greatly depending on country, so be sure to check. If something isn’t available in your country, it’s also possible to bypass it via VPN, so if you can get it to work for you, I do recommend it since while it’s still a bit more under-the-table, it does help support the franchise officially.

Hulu is another official outlet with a fairly volatile lineup; most of its Digimon content is English dubbed, but it does occasionally have subtitled stuff, so it’s worth looking into if you can’t find it on Crunchyroll but can access this (admittedly, though, it’s a bit unlikely due to Hulu being generally more restrictive).

Ryuu-Rogue (abbreviated “RyRo”), The Wild Bunch (abbreviated “WildBunch”), L Subs: Basically variants/offshoots of the same group, which has covered an incredibly large amount of Digimon content.

PositronCannon (Positron’s Subs): A prolific subber who covered much of the content RyRo/WildBunch/L didn’t already, especially the theatrical tie-in movies. (Usually abbreviated “Positron”, but sometimes has other abbreviations depending on whom they collaborated with.) Note that they also released their translation scripts separately, so if you’re a bit savvy with the right programs, you can actually read the translation without necessarily needing to take any video files with it.

I should point out that it’s actually kind of a rarity for us to be in a situation like this, especially since with “the English dub is mostly equivalent anyway” as a dominating sentiment at the time, it’s a pretty big deal that people took it upon themselves to make sure every series had a decent translation. Many kids’ anime of this age are not nearly as lucky, resulting in a lot of misinformation about its Japanese version often circulating around thanks to lack of translation, poorly done translations, or translations that haven’t aged well. (And Digimon was very close to this back in the day, too; did you know that before 02 got its first set of subtitles, there were cases of people making really wild claims like “a cut kiss scene” happening in the Japanese version?)  While some of the older fan translations have traces of on-screen translator notes and other artifacts from an older era, they’re all solid in terms of being very well-done translations, and have aged really well in that sense.

Other things to keep in mind:

This guide is primarily made from the perspective of "which translations are recommended and reliable", especially in the sense of identifying which translation(s) are recommendable if something was translated multiple times.

If you do have to find it (cough) unofficially, I heavily recommend you get the sub group’s release directly, usually via torrent (recommended client if you need one), instead of watching it off an underground streaming site that’s actively profiting off of the views there. It’s also safer for your computer, since said underground streaming sites have a notorious rate of putting malware on your computer; plus, it’s just more comfortable and higher quality, and you can watch it nicely and get nice screenshots with the Standard version of the K-Lite Codec Pack (Windows) or VLC (Mac). If the subbing group gives you an option of video file formats, you probably want the .mkv version, which most modern players can handle (especially the aforementioned players).

With the exception of the Hudie sub of Hurricane Touchdown (see below), all of the pre-Xros Wars releases are based off DVD versions, not any of the Blu-ray upscales that were released later. There are versions where others have transplanted the below subbers' translation onto Blu-ray footage, but the results are rather hit-or-miss, and since the Blu-rays are artificially upscaled footage anyway, I personally would rather recommend just getting the original release from the sub group themselves if possible.

Due to the fact that actual good-quality official translations started happening at that point, rendering fan translations no longer necessary (the fan translators would prefer you support the official release if you can, too!), no series after Xros Wars has a complete fan translation. In cases where both a full fan translation and a full official translation exists, it’s usually because the fan translation was done before an adequate official one was released; in such cases, please only use the fan translation if the official one isn’t accessible! Back in the day, there used to be official translations of Digimon series where the translation was so appallingly bad that it was borderline bootleg tier, but we’re fortunately not in that situation anymore right now, so please watch them without restraint if you can (the official 02 and Kizuna ones do have some shaky spots to the point I advise taking it with a grain of salt, but that’s only in the sense “of “taking it with a grain of salt” since both tend to be really nuance-dependent).

Terminology and romanizations differ from translation to translation (even within the same sub group or between official releases), so watch out for that. Of course, if you’ve gotten this far for this long in the Digimon fanbase, I imagine you must be used to that already...

For links to official ways to buy the Japanese footage, I’ll be providing both Amazon Japan and CDJapan links; the former is generally cheaper but requires a proxy service (I recommend From Japan), so if you’re not comfortable or used to using those, CDJapan offers them at retail price but also has a variety of international shipping options. If you’re willing to poke further, you can find them with other retailers as well. All series are also currently available for streaming on Amazon Japan and other services (which is, ironically, the only Japanese way to access Savers and Xros Wars at the moment due to how impossible they are to find on home video), although I imagine if you’re capable of figuring out how to access it there you’re probably not at the point of needing this guide anyway.

Yes, Japanese home video releases are ridiculously expensive. I’m sorry.

Adventure

TV series: Available via Blu-ray release from Amazon and other retailers, Officially available in a small handful of countries on Crunchyroll (released 2021).  If it’s not available for you, the Ryuu-Rogue release from 2009 also works.

Original movie and Our War Game!: The Positron translations from 2010 and 2011 (respectively) are recommended here. Make sure the one for Our War Game! is the v2 version.

Kizuna: An official release with subtitles is available. It’s available in a large number of Western countries on storefronts that sell movies digitally (iTunes, Microsoft Store, etc.); for the US and Canada, it’s also available on physical disc format from Shout! Factory, among other retailers. (For those outside said countries, there may be a retailer that services your region with it, so I definitely suggest looking into outlets that do anime releases.) If you can’t access it from your country or have a region lock, I heavily recommend the L Subs version or the fan translation released under the “Kizuna” name (both are good) from 2020.

Buying it in Japanese:

TV series: The most recommended way is the combination Blu-ray box with 02 and their four movies (Amazon, CDJapan). There is actually an individual Blu-ray release (Amazon, CDJapan), but it’s ironically the same price or even more expensive, so you’re better off getting the combined box at this point. If you want a DVD version, there’s that too; the price for a new copy is obscene, but the used price is fairly reasonable in comparison.

Original movie and Our War Game!: If you only want the original movie and/or Our War Game!, you want the first volume of the movie Blu-ray collection, which contains both (Amazon, CDJapan). There’s also a nifty Blu-ray collection for all of the theatrical movies up until the Savers movie (Amazon, CDJapan). Both are also bundled together in DVD format (Amazon, CDJapan).

Kizuna: Again, the Shout! Factory release is your best bet if you’re in the US or Canada, and, depending on where you live and what options are available to you, importing it may be cheaper than getting the Japanese version (especially given the much lower base price). If you want the Japanese version, the Blu-ray comes in standard (Amazon, CDJapan) and deluxe (Amazon, CDJapan) flavors, whereas the DVD only has a standard version (Amazon, CDJapan).

02

TV series: Officially available in a small handful of countries on Crunchyroll (released 2021). Note that this version is based off Blu-ray footage. If it’s not available for you, I heavily recommend the PositronCannon release from 2010.

Hurricane Touchdown: The Hudie release (2020) is the one you should go with. Note that this uses Blu-ray footage.

Diablomon Strikes Back: The PositronCannon translation from 2012 (respectively) is recommended here; make sure it’s the v2 version.

Buying it in Japanese:

TV series: Same as Adventure; you probably want the combination Blu-ray box with Adventure and their four movies (Amazon, CDJapan). It also has an individual Blu-ray release (Amazon, CDJapan), but it actually costs around the same price. It’s technically still possible to get copies of the “Jogress Edition” Blu-ray that it first released with as a special limited edition, but I only recommend this if you really, really want the special booklets that come with it, or really like the nice boxes that much (note that it doesn’t come with the Adventure one; you’re expected to fill that one in yourself!). There’s a DVD version as well; as with Adventure, the new price is ridiculous, but the used price is much lower.

Hurricane Touchdown and Diablomon Strikes Back: Both are bundled together in the second volume of the movie Blu-ray collection (Amazon, CDJapan), and included in the full set of 1999-2006 theatrical movies (Amazon, CDJapan). If you prefer DVDs, you can get Hurricane Touchdown and Diablomon Strikes Back via Amazon.

Tamers

TV series: This one’s a tricky one; there’s no official release for this right now (there used to be a bootleg-tier quality one on Hulu, but even that’s gone now). The one you probably want is a combination of episodes 1-15 from The Wild Bunch (written as “WildBunch”) and 16-51 from Positron (written as "PLSP" or "PLSP-card"). The reason for this is that Positron themself was dissatisfied with the first pass of their own subs and did a v2 of them, but eventually didn’t get around to doing a second pass on 1-15 because they felt that The Wild Bunch's existing subs of it were satisfactory. This arrangement/combination from 2017 is well-known, so it shouldn't be hard to find them packaged together.

Battle of Adventurers: The Wild Bunch’s release from 2010 should be good for this one.

Runaway Digimon Express: You’ll want to look for the DmonHiro release from 2012 for this.

Buying it in Japanese:

TV series: Available in both Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon) flavors.

Battle of Adventurers and Runaway Digimon Express: Both are bundled together in the third volume of the movie Blu-ray collection (Amazon, CDJapan), and included in the full set of 1999-2006 theatrical movies (Amazon, CDJapan). If you prefer DVDs, you can get Battle of Adventurers and Runaway Digimon Express via Amazon.

Frontier

TV series: No official release for this right now. You’ll probably want to look for PositronCannon’s release (written as “Positron-LS”) from 2012.

Revival of the Ancient Digimon: You want the Positron (abbreviated “PLSP”) release for this from 2012.

Buying it in Japanese:

TV series: Available in both Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon) flavors.

Revival of the Ancient Digimon: Bundled with the Savers movie in the fourth volume of the movie Blu-ray collection (Amazon, CDJapan), and included in the full set of 1999-2006 theatrical movies (Amazon, CDJapan). If you prefer DVDs, you can get it via Amazon.

Savers

TV series and Activate Burst Mode! movie: No official release for either of these right now; the Ryuu-Rogue release from 2007 packages them together.

Buying it in Japanese: 

TV series: Unfortunately, the actual TV series is pretty much near impossible to get in full now due to the fact it never got a compiled DVD release, and some of the short collection/rental DVDs it originally released in are impossible to find.

Activate Burst Mode!: Ironically, the movie’s in an easier position; it’s bundled with the Savers movie in the fourth volume of the movie Blu-ray collection (Amazon, CDJapan), and included in the full set of 1999-2006 theatrical movies (Amazon, CDJapan). If you prefer DVDs, you can get it via Amazon.

Xros Wars

TV series: Officially available in a handful of countries on Crunchyroll (released 2011-2012). Note that it’s listed under the Hunters name, but has all three parts. If it’s not available for you, the combination batch from Ryuu-Rogue (for the first two parts) and The Wild Bunch (for the third) works here. (Note that this uses TV footage.) Since the two are functionally the same group, The Wild Bunch was the one who conducted the final release in 2012 (abbreviated under “RyRo-WildBunch”).

Buying it in Japanese: Sadly, same situation as Savers; it never got a compiled DVD release, and some of the short collection/rental DVDs it originally released in are impossible to find.

Appmon

TV series: Officially available in a handful of countries on Crunchyroll (released 2019). Crunchyroll’s version of the translation is the only one that’s both accurate and complete; all other ones are either incomplete or appallingly mistranslated.

Buying it in Japanese: Unfortunately, there are no Blu-rays, but it did release in four DVD collections. (Warning that as of this writing, the Amazon ones are starting to run out of stock.)

Box 1 (episodes 1-13): Amazon, CDJapan

Box 2 (episodes 14-25): Amazon, CDJapan

Box 3 (episodes 26-37): Amazon, CDJapan

Box 4 (episodes 38-52): Amazon, CDJapan

Adventure: (2020)

TV series: Officially available in a lot of countries on Crunchyroll (simulcast).

Buying it in Japanese: Available in five collections, in both Blu-ray and DVD flavors:

Box 1 (episodes 1-12): Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon, CDJapan)

Box 2 (episodes 13-24): Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon, CDJapan)

Box 3 (episodes 25-36): Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon, CDJapan)

Box 4 (episodes 37-48): Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon, CDJapan)

Box 5 (episodes 49-67): Blu-ray (Amazon, CDJapan) and DVD (Amazon, CDJapan)

Ghost Game

TV series: Officially available in a lot of countries on Crunchyroll (simulcast). As of this writing, the series is currently airing, so I am begging you to please put extra emphasis on supporting this one on the official channel if you can.

Buying it in Japanese: Well, it just started. Hopefully we get news soon!

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember​ Prompt # 8: Contagious

Title: Unexpected Developments 

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Prompt inspired by @chezsnez ​. The prompt: “What if in P&P when Jane gets sick at Netherfield, the other guests catch her cold and Lizzie ends up having to take care of Darcy. Kinda like enemies to lovers but with enemies to caretaker.” Thank you as always for the wonderful ideas, my friend!

Jane Bennett’s cold has spread to all the guests at Netherfield, hitting some worse than others. How will Lizzie respond when she finds proud, arrogant Mr. Darcy sneezing miserably and running a fever?

Elizabeth stepped out into the hall, closing the door on Jane's sickroom behind her. Jane was lying down to rest, so Lizzie was left to her own devices for the next hour or two. With no obligation to visit with the rest of the guests today, she had decided to wander a bit to stretch her legs and familiarize herself with more of Netherfield. As she walked, she let her mind wander as idly as her feet.

"We're certain to never be asked back here again," Lizzie sighed to herself after a bit. While Lizzie herself didn't much care, Jane and her mother would be devastated.

The cold Jane had caught on her ill-fated horseback ride to Netherfield had proved to be very contagious. Charles and Caroline Bingley had succumbed to it quickly. At luncheon the day after Elizabeth arrived to care for her sister, the siblings were seen to have dark circles under their eyes, with nostrils tinged a raw-looking pink. Caroline was forced to press a handkerchief to her dripping nose more than once through the course of the meal, while Charles kept painfully coughing into his. Caroline retired immediately after the meal, complaining of a headache and did not return. Charles sent his apologies down just before supper, saying he too had taken ill and would be staying in his room. Walking past Caroline's door later while checking on Jane, Lizzie heard her sneezing so miserably that  Eliza felt a touch of sympathy for the unpleasant woman.

Mr. Darcy had been the one to carry the news of Bingley's illness to the rest of the party, but Elizabeth had hardly seen him since. She gathered he was either passing the time in his own room or else keeping Charles company. It seemed his immune system was hearty, for he hadn't seemed ill when she had last spoken to him. 

Several days had now elapsed since the onset of Jane's illness, and the eldest Bennett sister was doing much better, and in fact really had no need of a caregiver anymore, though she had said more than once that she was glad Elizabeth was there for the company. With any luck, the sisters would be able to go home in a few days, as long as the others had recovered as well. Elizabeth found this thought encouraging as she continued to explore. 

Eventually she came to a hallway at the far side of the house that she was sure would be a dead end and likely empty, but she preferred to look at it anyway, for perhaps it would have a nice view out the window. The hallway was in fact a dead end, but was far from empty.

Coming around the corner, she stopped short, for at the end of the hallway and facing the window was Mr. Darcy. With some amusement she realized he was about to sneeze, for he was hunched over with his handkerchief pressed to his face and his breath hitching desperately.

"Heh-ZZZIIIH'shieww! HIIHHK'choo!" He did his best to muffle the sound into his handkerchief, but was mostly unsuccessful. The sneezes were wet and miserable-sounding, and while Elizabeth couldn't see his face, she could imagine his equally miserable expression, for he sneezed like someone with a thick, burgeoning head cold.

She had a choice to make. She could very easily walk away and pretend she had seen nothing, leaving him and his cold to their own devices. After all, the fact that he had hidden away in this corner indicated that he didn't want to be discovered, and while he had been overall civil to her since she had come to stay here, his haughty pride and past treatment of her were not quickly forgotten. Or, she could offer him aid.

"Hih'GEHH'shuuh!" This 3rd sneeze, whether part of the trio or on its own (it was hard to be sure) was the most desperate and miserable sounding of them all. His shoulders slumped wearily as he tended to his nose in the aftermath, and she thought she heard him say something like "ick" as he did so as well.

"Bless you, sir," said Elizabeth boldly, coming fully into the hallway. He leapt around as if he'd been shot, his face reddening. She could see him frantically trying to think of a way to explain himself.

"My apologies," he muttered at last, gruffly. "That was most undignified."

"You have no need to apologize, for you didn't know I was here. It is I who should apologize for startling you. However, I wanted to ask after your health, for you sound most unwell."

"I am fine," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable. Looking closer at him, Lizzie saw the flush over his face might not be due entirely to embarrassment, but perhaps also to fever, for his eyes had the same unhealthy cast she had seen in Jane's eyes only a few days before. He was also swaying slightly where he stood, and had a dampness of sweat along his hairline.

"Might I offer to accompany you to your room, sir? You look as if you needed to lie down for a spell."

"That is… unnecessary. I can…." He cut himself off with a rough cough. She could tell he was desperately trying to think of an excuse as to why she shouldn't be the one assisting him. However, they both knew that Charles was sick (quite sick, if the murmurs she'd heard from the staff were to be believed), and that all the servants were overworked as it was with taking care of their master and his sister. 

"I'm sure you're quite busy with your sister. You need not concern yourself with me," he finally rasped. 

"On the contrary, she is resting peacefully, while you are positively trembling and look to be on the verge of collapse from fever. Take my arm and we shall see you to your quarters."

Mr. Darcy hesitated another moment, still casting around for some excuse. Knowing what needed to be done, Elizabeth moved to his side and gently linked her arm around his. She felt her heart flutter as their hands made brief contact. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that this was the first time they had touched. She had certainly imagined it occurring under different circumstances. Shaking away such thoughts, she started to walk, leading the much taller man toward his quarters. Mr. Darcy was enough of a gentleman to follow without further protest. 

As they walked, both of Mr. Darcy's arms were occupied, for the hand that wasn't linked with Elizabeth's was busy pressing his handkerchief to his face. Every few steps his shoulders would twitch, either from a stifled cough or a thick sniffle. She could sense he was desperately trying not to sneeze again. Between that and the fact that his large form was positively radiating heat, Elizabeth found herself quite distracted by him, and watched him intently out of the corner of her eye. The walk was a quiet one, for Elizabeth didn’t want to burden him with conversation when he was clearly otherwise engaged, not to mention ill.

They made it to his room without interruption, sneezing or otherwise. She allowed him to open the door, then she ushered them both in, with more than a little awkwardness on all sides. Mr. Darcy went immediately to sit on his bed, sinking down as if compelled by gravity, leaning his head into his hands as he continued to tremble.

"A headache troubles you as well, then?" she asked after observing his motionless form for a moment.

He nodded pathetically, not looking up. Out of nowhere, and startling them both, his breath hitched violently before a pair of sneezes erupted out of him. Thankfully they were directed at the floor. He pressed his damp handkerchief to his nose hastily, glancing at her and looking embarrassed.

"Forgive me," he muttered thickly, which was followed up with a cough.

"You need not waste your breath asking forgiveness every time you sneeze when you have a cold, for you have precious little breath to spare as it is. However, I must ask, why did you not alert someone of your illness? You are quite unwell, Mr. Darcy. Anyone can see it plainly."

"I did not want to be a bother, as everyone else was also ill. I thought it best to tend to myself."

"Whether or not you alerted someone, you shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. You've certainly made yourself worse by doing so."

He only groaned softly.

Elizabeth sighed to herself. "Please, if I may, let me help you feel more comfortable. You need to rest."

Hesitantly she approached him as he looked up to finally meet her eyes. With a gentle touch she guided him to sit up straighter, then deftly removed his cravat. She sensed more than heard his sigh of relief once it was off, and found herself letting her hand rest on his hot cheek under the pretense of checking his fever. He seemed to enjoy the touch immensely. Her eyes lingered on his face as he sat with his eyes closed, and many thoughts and feelings competed for space in her mind. She did her best to suppress them all.

 After a moment though, she broke the spell, and continued to help him remove his jacket, waistcoat, boots and stockings. He assisted as best he could with these attentions, but said nothing, merely following her every move with his guarded, intense gaze. Once the garments were set aside and he was looking much more loose and comfortable, if also embarrassed to be seen in such an undressed state, she pressed a glass of water into his hands and watched as he drank it down.

She took the glass from him, and setting it down, took up a cold, wet rag. She placed it against the back of his neck and was rewarded with a relieved sigh. From there she bathed the rest of his neck and the bit of chest that was visible, ensuring her gaze stayed far from his, but unable to help a bit of a blush creeping over her cheeks at such acts of intimacy with such a person. With continued gentleness, she pressed him back against the pillows. The movement of course made him cough pitifully. Soaking the cloth once more, she laid it on his forehead and left it there as she straightened the pillows around him.

That done, they simply surveyed each other for a moment. Mr. Darcy looked ill and altogether unimposing, lying in bed as he was, with tired circles under his eyes, a hacking cough, and a dripping nose.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked hesitantly.

"Some," he grunted. "Now that I'm lying down."

"Excellent. Are you hungry at all? I think perhaps you should eat something."

His intense stare and large, warm presence were making her nervous all over again and causing her to seek escape from the small room.

"I suppose I could eat," he murmured.

"Yes, good. Then let me go fetch you some soup. I'll be back soon." She bustled out of the room immediately, a blush rising to her face, of uncertain cause. She did her best to quiet her racing thoughts as she sped toward the kitchen.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, was totally smitten with her. He was now convinced her fine eyes were the centerpiece of her completely wonderful countenance and figure. He watched the space where the corner of her skirt had disappeared intently, waiting for her return and recalling again and again the feel of her cool hand on his face.

(Part 1 of 2)

[ndoandou]

Hiii! Can you do a scenario where Mozart's s/o is really drunk she even dont recognize him and when he's trying to help her go to her room she says that she have a boyfriend or something like that??? Idk if it makes sense😅😅

Here you go darling @aycan15nevzatova !💜💜 le drunk s/o x mozart fic //sorry it took a bit long qwq

Your request reminded me of the drunk bridesmaid meme xD i couldnt help but imagine MC and mozart here🥴

🎹Drunk Yet Loyal🎹

Pairing: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC

Warning: mentions of vommiting, nàśťìě english

Sfw

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

MC had made aquaintance with some of the ladies in town. They invited her to have a couple of drinks at the local bar this evening, the same bar where arthur would usually go.

She forgot to tell Mozart thd day before, so she figured she would go tell him now, even though it was rather.. last minute.

"*knock* mozart...?" MC said softly as she knocked on his bedroom door, only to not to get a response.

She invited herself in and mozart was no where be seen, when sebastian happen to walk towards MC's direction

"Herr mozart is having a meeting out in town. do you perhaps need any assistance with something, MC?" Sebastian said as he spotted her looking for mozart

"Ah sebastian! I was just going to tell him that i am going to the pub this evening with some ladies.. could you perhaps pass on this message to him when he comes back? I have to leave very soon." MC explained to sebastian

Sebastian frowned slightly

"Are you sure thats a good idea, its quite late isnt it?" Sebastian said, worried about MC's decision

"Dont worry! Its near the mansion and i wont be home that late" MC said with a reassuring smile

Sebastian thought for a bit

"Well.. i suppose you are right. I will pass on the message to herr mozart. Please do not come home too late" sebastian said

.

.

"She WHAT?!" Mozart exclaimed as sebastian passed the information to him.

"My appologies herr mozart, i tried to convince her otherwise, but she insisted" sebastian said as he felt responsible for MC's reckless decision

"I really cant take my eyes of her for one second.. the moment i do, she does the most impulsive things ever." Mozart pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled sharply

Sebastian gave him a sympathetic look.

"Seems like ill have to head over to town again.." mozart said as he put on his coat once more

.

.

"Ehehehehehe, and then i put salt into arthurs coffee- BWAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAH" MC said as her laughter boomed through the pub, slamming her fist on the table. MC

"My, my, mademoisille~ you seem to enjoy drinks a lot.. though i wouldnt suggest you to have some more" one of the ladies said

"Dont worry! Im *hic*-"

Mc was cut off as the door to the pub had been slammed open, revealing a furious mozart.

This had caught everyones attention

"Seems like the musician came to pick his lady up~" the other lady said giggling

"MC! We are going home, now." Mozart said as he marched towards MC

MC failed to recognize the man that had demanded her to go home. She stood up, almost losing her balance and started yelling at mozart furiously.

"And who do you think you are?! Telling me to- mph!" MC stopped mid sentence as she felt the contents of of her stomach rising up her throat abruptly. One of the ladies who happened to be sitting next to an empty bucket instinctively shoved a bucket towards MC and mozart's direction. Mozart immideately held the bucket, forcing her to sit back down as MC began puking r a i n b o w s. Mozart's expression twisted into disgust. As disgusting as witnessing someone puke is, it was his dearest MC. He rubbed circles onto her back as one of her lady friends handed her a clean piece of cloth.

.

.

Mozart was walking down the dark street, carrying MC who had a bucket hanging over her face. Mozart didnt want people to stare at her lover in such state any longer, which is why he excused MC and himself out of the pub as soon as they could.

"Oh schatzi.. what am i going to do with you..?" Mozart said as he sighed to himself

MC wasnt well enough to respond.

.

.

They both arrived into the mansion, MC had stop puking but she still wasnt well enough

some residents in the dining room wondering what on earth was this sight in front of them. Before anyone could open their mouths, mozart spoke up

"No one question anything." He said as he casually walked past everyone, MC in his arms, heading towards MC's room.

As they reached the front of MC's room, mozart gently place her on her feet and took off the ungodly bucket off her head. He put the bucket to the side and slowly guided MC in.

"W-wait *hic* why are you taking me to bed?!" Mc panicked, resisting him but failing.

"Shush liebling, take a seat on the bed.. i need to change your soiled shirt" Mozart said, but MC pulled away harder

"No!! You can't do that, i *hic* have a boyfriend!" She yelled out as she ran over to the corner of the room

MC was so drunk that she failed to recognize who mozart is. Mozart found this incredibly funny and adorable. He decided to play along with it.

"Oh? Really? What is your boyfriend like?" He said with an amused chuckle, folding his arms.

"He *hic* he comes of as mean..b-but he has the biggest heart in the *hic* world" MC said as she leaned on to the wall for support

"He.. is very good *hic* with the piano and.. he knows how to make my heart flutter.." MC continued

"I.. love him... very.. much" mc said as she begun to lose her conciousness, which mozart quickly rushed towards her side, cathing her on time.

Carrying MC in his arm, he slowly carried her over to her bed, softlt putting her down.

He laid down next to her admiring her sleeping form, carresing her face. He couldnt stop thinking of what MC said about him.

"It may not seem like it.. but you really make my heart go crazy, schatzi" mozart spoke to the unconcious MC as he gave her cheek a kiss.

.

.

.

Extra:

"Mm.." MC groaned as she could feel the sun blazing on her face. She noticed that she was in her night gown.

"What on..." MC said as she tried to recall what happened last night, thats when Mozart opened her bedroom door with a cup of warm tea in his hand

"Ah, you woke up." He said as he sat over next to her, handing the cup to her.

For some reason Mozart had this angelic aura around him which made MC question the situation more

"What happened last night..?" MC asked cautiously

"Lets say.. you drank irresponsibly and i had to take you home with a bucket over your face" mozart said with a playfull chuckle

All the memories from the previous day begun flooding back into her head, causing her to freeze. Mozart patted her head softly.

"You should really stop doing the most thoughtless things, liebling.. you were lucky that nothing serious happened last night" he said, still patting his lover

"Im sorry.. i was going to tell you about my plan but i forgot.." MC pouted as she took a sip of her tea

"Its fine. But i suppose i have to glue myself to you so you dont get into trouble." Mozart joked as he gave her a quick peck, making her lips curve into a smile

.

.

.

[lovehotelreservation]

Formulaic

Summary: There was a process to every solution.

And while Cid was aware of one particular solution he so dearly wished to attain, the process was simply too formidable to even attempt:

To confess his feelings to Maria, the Warrior of Light.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Cid

EVERY TIME I SEE CID I GET WHIPLASH THAT HE’S ONLY 34 HEWWO ??? MANS LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOT WERTHER’S ORIGINAL KISSES NOT LA CROIX MAKEOUT SESSIONS!!!

ANYWAY HFLKAFHAKL THANK YOU TO MY DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY--ESP SINCE I PROGRESSED FURTHER ON THE OMEGA SERIES BECAUSE OF THIS!!!

---------------- Cid regretted ever fixing that damn kettle.

While doing so finally got the whinging pursed lips of Nero to finally hush up so he could hone his focus upon Garlond Ironworks’ current endeavor of seeking out Omega, the repair of the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster only served to give his lifelong rival all the opportunity to cozy up to the very person that Cid wanted him to stay the furthest away from.

Or attempt to at least.

A personality utterly kind and demure, eyes grey like rain clouds on a cozy morning, soft and silken locks of gold that cascaded to the middle of her back, a mind so brilliant and witty.

Eorzea’s Warrior of Light, but his own precious weakness.

She was Maria and oh how his heart yearned for her.

All while his eyes bore holes into the ground beneath which Nero stood every time he approached her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and an arrogant smirk on his face.

While Cid was more than overjoyed to see Maria fix herself a cup of tea during the lulls between endeavors in the Datascape, whenever she went to pour herself a drink, Nero was sure to be trailing after her, going on about superior blends in Garlemald and how he was more than ready to show her the breadth of his refined palate.

His intentions were clear.

And though Cid was ever prepared to step in as need be to keep Nero from pestering her further, the crux of the underlying issue in face of all this remained present in place:

His own feelings for Maria.

If the situation called for it, he could easily give a fully articulated lecture on the Allagans while inebriated to the point he was face planted on the floor in a drunken and naked slump right in the middle of Sapphire Avenue during peak Starlight shopping season.

But to confess how he genuinely felt about the woman who captivated him so dearly, who inspired him to go beyond any boundary?

The thought of risking the friendship that he treasured with her like nothing else was enough to push him to drink.

After all, with how often that the world relied on her strength to help defend it, he was protective of her--even lamenting that time he jokingly declared his need for her mainly due to her usefulness while he was guiding her through the tumultuous depths of The Praetorium.

Yet with the aftermath of that infamous night in Ul’dah and her subsequent escape to Ishgard, it was then that he began to realize that his fondness for her went beyond mere allies, mere friends.

This was made apparent the moment they were properly reunited after her far too close encounter with the Vundu at the Sea of Clouds, having successfully escaped pursuit by the Bismarck.

What with the way he could not hold himself back from taking her into his arms, hugging her close as all tension within his body was swiftly relieved as he took her in.

Her presence, her scent, her adorably surprised stammers as he embraced her right in front of Hauchefant and Emmanellain.

Along with Wedge and Biggs, with the former letting out a startled “Chief--!” while the other released the hearty chuckle of “Aye boss, demonstration of affection’s handled a whole lot differently in Ishgard, you know!”

For all his intentions to never let her go from the moment he feared the worst upon her disappearance, he was ever quick to relinquish her, a faint dust of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Cid was thankful that she didn’t seem to catch onto Biggs’s cheeky remark, looking so gorgeously flustered more so from his sudden embrace, despite her attempts to look composed in light of their reunion.

And it was from then on that he happily took his place within her journey, whether physically together during their attempts to thwart the return of Alexander, or when they were apart and remained joined together by way of letter or linkpearl.

To hear her say or see his name in her handwriting was a joy that could not ever be replicated by anything else.

As a pursuer of knowledge, he had to abide by what was factual.

There was no denying of his longing for Maria.

Not while he had Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie chiming in to ask if he had been talking to her whenever they handed her letters to him with knowing smiles on their faces.

And now, with Maria dedicating her time and effort to assist him and the rest of Garlond Ironworks with Omega’s ongoing trials, he could feel his heart welling with his increasingly overwhelming desire to express how he felt.

It was just only more irritating that Nero had stoked the flames by his pompous ways, of which left plenty on Cid’s mind, especially with the completion of the first gambit of battles under Omega’s watch and the return to Rhalgr’s Reach for some needed rest and recuperation.

Though, relaxation was in the furthest corner of his mind, whether by the mystery of Omega’s intentions or his current predicament of his feelings towards Maria.

With the hour late, rather than try to force himself back to sleep within the sleeping quarters set aside for Garlond Ironworks, he thought a walk around the now quiet compound would serve him better instead.

A change between sleeping clothes to a light shirt and a pair of pants--more suitable for the arid Ala Mhigan weather.

There was a small grin on his face as he emerged from the sleeping area.

Already he could hear Maria’s voice of exasperated curiosity with the inquiry of “How are you not evaporating?” whenever she saw his usual day to day attire.

Yet the voice that was in his head was heard by his very ears as he entered the common area that led out to the rest of Western Rhalgr’s Reach.

“Cid?”

Seated at one of the communal tables was none other than Maria, her expression curious and mug in her hands steaming, all while the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster presided by her on the tabletop.

The gods may toy but sometimes their mischief was simply too much.

His heart aflutter and his grin widening, Cid approached where Maria was sitting. “Well now, someone’s up late.”

The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile as she proceeded to take a sip. “I see it as being up early.”

But though her tone was jovial and her expression relaxed, there was a distant look in her eye that signified a preoccupation.

He knew that look.

“I see--though, a warrior like yourself ought to get her rest, no?” Pulling out the chair beside her, he proceeded to take a seat, all while his grey eyes gazed towards her with concern. “Tell me, what keeps you up on this good night, Maria?”

While it was often joked that Cid was married to the pursuit of knowledge, he liked to think that his devotion to his studies made him especially perceptive of properly assessing emotion.

For surely, who else happily devoted one’s efforts to knowing so much of Maria such as he?

It was then that she set her mug down on the table.

Just before she turned towards him, her lips forming into a pout.

A pout he so dearly wished to kiss.

Huffing, she remarked as her arms folded over her chest, “Are we speaking about the general burden of being the go-to person for everyone’s dilemma, or that Nero is getting under my skin again? Take your pick.”

No words in modern and/or Allagan vernacular could fully describe the relief that washed over Cid’s body.

Still, always wishing for her to be at peace, he responded in turn with a sympathetic grin as he chuckled, “Ahh, one of those pesky reasons to stay up. What has our comrade in reluctant arms done this time?”

Maria turned her attention towards her mug on the table.

Her favorite one of the Garlond Ironworks’s collection, which Cid always made sure to have on hand whenever she was working alongside them.

Though many thoughts were swirling in her mind at this very moment--especially with Cid sitting right beside at an otherwise romantic hour--she continued as disdain intertwined itself with each word she spoke, “Earlier, Nero insisted that I try his cup of tea, and right when I did, he started gloating about an indirect kiss.”

If the thought of Maria’s voice energized his soul to go on a walk at such a late time, the mere utterance of Nero thinking himself to be so charming he could think to flirt in such a way made the inklings of a migraine begin to form within Cid’s head.

With her body visibly cringing at the recollection, the late hour had her lamenting out loud, “Is every brilliant mind from Galemand as big of a pompous know-it-all like him?”

“Well I like to think of myself as a humble servant to the majesty of study,” Cid teased with a shrug.

Setting her cheek against her palm while her elbow set upon the table, she remarked with a shake of her head, “You’re the exception.”

Cid had to wonder if he just gulped down a mug of tea himself with the rush of heat that suddenly surged through his chest. He let out another laugh, richer, deeper. “I take it that you’re not as keen to receive Nero’s odd attempts at courting?”

Maria’s eyes closed as she groaned at the thought, “I’d rather kiss the floor of the Gold Saucer during the summer season.”

“Then, would you prefer a kiss from elsewhere…?”

And then her eyelids fluttered open.

The lightheartedness in Cid’s tone had subsided into one of sincerity, as matched by the look in his eyes while he peered directly towards her.

Though unsure of how to feel or proceed, everything within her body encouraged her to step forward towards what she had yearned for so long.

And so, ever shyly but with her eyes gazing right into his, she murmured, “...If it must come from elsewhere, it can only come from one person.”

His breath caught in his throat. “‘One person…?’”

Her face grew warm from embarrassment. “I think you can figure it out, humble servant to the majesty of study.

Cid couldn’t resist from gasping with delight. “Gods Maria--”

His hands swiftly cupped her cheeks and their mouths met for a long awaited kiss, the warmth of the tea on her lips making them both melt further into their connection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing the two of them closer. 

It was yearning now fulfilled, a flood of long withheld affection bursting forth, a craving for one another looking to be satisfied, to be changed from midnight fantasy to joyful fruition.

Kisses once shy and careful turned earnest and heated, tongues stumbling against one another as hands groped with need.

Were it not knowing her penchant for reservation, he would have ravaged her right then and there at the commons table.

Instead, he opted to lift her up into a carry, her arms and legs hugging around his shoulders and waist as he hurriedly brought her back to his quarters, his walk and her tea forgotten.

Surely, this had to be a dream in some way, no?

But as her back fell upon his mattress, as their hands continued to undress and feel each other as physical confirmation that what was occurring was very much real, the joys of the present couldn’t have been more sweet.

And how Cid savored her moans like that of an addictive confection.

Even without trying to be mindful of others at this late hour, Maria stifled her moans out of shyness, all while her back arched into warmth of Cid’s lips as they kissed over her dribbling core, the bristles of his facial hair scratching against her quivering as he eagerly lapped his tongue along her slit with long and indulgent strokes.

Though, she couldn’t quite be as quiet when she was eventually seated on his lap, her face buried into his shoulder as she rode his cock, all while one of his big sturdy hands held onto her hip while the other fondled her ass, guiding her up and down the length of his thick dick at a brisk pace.

This provided an ample opportunity to plant his lips along the crook of her neck, gentle suckles leaving red marks in their wake.

While he knew that Maria would do everything in her power to understandably cover up, the thought of Nero thinking twice to pursue her while seeing the marks on her neck was satisfying.

But nowhere near as satisfying as feeling the muffled whimpers of his name from her lips against his skin, the hot and slippery confines of her slick walls squeezing around his cock, up until they reached their orgasms with her core clamping onto his dick and his seed flooding inside her in a lascivious, scorching burst.

Much like as they began, they ended with their lips on one another’s yet again as they fell back onto his mattress, joined together now by their arms embracing one another, fingers intertwining, his lips against her temple, her head nestling upon the sturdiness of his chest.

Though they would have much to fully confide and earnestly convey once their bodies were properly rested, both Cid and Maria were relieved, their hearts feeling warm.

Far warmer than any brewed cup of tea.

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (5/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, depression, trauma, PTSD, some fluff 

Word Count: 2.3k  

Part Summary: After the hospital with Glory, Y/N falls into despair, unsure of whether or not the world around is real or Glory’s doing. Days go by and Spike grows frustrated as the Scooby Gang is lost on how to fix Y/N. So, he takes matters into his hands, doing everything in his power to bring her. 

Masterlist

"Bloody fix her!" I hear Spike yell at the others in the kitchen.  

I lay on the couch in the allusion version of the Summers's living room. All I can do is wait. Wait for the most-evil-big-bad to show up and take me away. I wait for this vision to end. Glory is messing with my head. I just know it. I'm still in her memories or worse, she dragged me down to Hell with her.  

"We can't, not yet at least," the imaginary Willow explains, sounding defeated.  

"We don't know the right spell, but we're not going to stop until we find it!" Tara assures, her tone carries a bit of hope in it. 

"What exactly did Y/N see when she entered Glory's mind?" Giles questions. "Perhaps that will help us figure out a solution."  

"Did she tell you anything, Spike?" The pretend Buffy inquires, her voice optimistic.   

"No!" The vampire shouts again. "You saw her! She won't even look at me, at any of us, and you think she told me everything?!"  

"Spike, we're just trying to help..." Willow mumbles, sounding mousey.   

“Yeah, since when do you care about Y/N or anyone of us for that matter?” Xander insults. 

“I don’t… ” Spike grumbles defensively. Then, he releases a deep sigh of frustration, “okay, look! The sooner Y/N is better, the sooner she can help with destroying Glory. Let’s pick up the pace here!” 

There's a prolonged pause and the allusion of Dawnie appears entering the room from the kitchen. She approaches me cautiously. Starring blankly ahead at the distant wall, the allusion of Dawn kneels beside me on the floor.

 "Hi Y/N," she mumbles, fiddling with the edge of her shirt nervously. "Do... Do you need anything? A glass of water? Some food? I... I can make anything you like!" She tells me with forced enthusiasm. "Oh, here!" She rises from her spot swiftly and reaches over me. 

Startled, I scream and fly up from my laid position. She's going to hurt me! She's a demon! She's going to kill me! She's going to drag me back to that place! All of the fire, the screaming, the pain! The others comes running into the room, the vision of Spike leading them.  

"I didn't mean to!" The fake Dawn urgently tells me, running to safety by Buffy. "I was just going to give her blanket!"  

The allusion of Buffy comforts her, "I know, you're okay! It's not you're fault. Y/N's just really fragile at the moment. We can't touch her or get too close, otherwise we'll scare her."   

Panicked, I shuffle my sight between all of them, waiting for one of them to charge at me. I curl up, bringing my legs close to my chest on the couch. Shaking, I can't find the words to speak. I'm afraid if I do they're retaliate and I'll be send back to the fiery place.   The figure disguised as Spike approaches me steadily, his hands up as a sign of peace. I don't believe it, not for a second. He's trying to trick me!   

He shushes softly, "it's okay Y/N. I'm not going to hurt you." 

I cower away, scooting to the farthest side of the couch from him. 

"You can also see people's energy. You can also see into people's minds, right?” He calmly moves closer until he's sat on the coffee table. “I want you to look into mine,” he instructs boldly, holding out his hand to me. 

I shake my head rapidly in a panic. No, I can’t do it again, not after what happened! Beside, my magic doesn't work in Hell. No, I saw it before. When the roots were attacking me, nothing worked. He's testing me. He wants an excuse to damn me to Hell. 

"I’ll focus only on the good memories! You told me that I can control what you see, right? If I remember that it’s all in my head and try hard enough! Let me prove to you that I’m really me and I’m not a threat to you!" The spirit disguised as Spike reasons. "Come on, use your powers, Love. Show yourself that I won't hurt you," he says in almost a plea. 

I hesitate, afraid of the repercussion if I do as he asks. He could show me more traumatizing images. I want to believe he's the real, do more than anything! If it were really him, it would mean I'm safe and truly out of Glory's nightmare. 

Buffy quietly steps forward to protest the idea. “Spike, I don’t think-”

“Just let her try for Christ’s sake!” He snaps, standing up to face everyone. Clearly, he’s hit his boiling point with all the bickering. “You all bloody act like she’s a goddamn porcelain baby and you’re afraid of dropping her. She’s the most powerful whatever-the-hell she is I’ve seen in my hundred and forty-eight years on this planet! Now, shut up!” He finishes, sitting back down on the table with a dramatic huff. 

Calmly, he looks at me and requests again, “try it, Pet. I know you can do it,” he encourages softly. 

Slowly, I meet him gaze. It’s the first time since the hospital I’ve look at anyone in the eye. I’ve been afraid that if I look, I’ll see the red eyes that frighten me more than I can bare to say. Instead, I’m meet with the familiar emeralds. They’re fake. They must be fake. They’re a part of the allusion. 

“Please…” Spike adds almost inaudibly. He eyes peer at me, filled with what appears to be despair. Reaching out his hand again, he waits for me to take it. 

I don’t feel threatening energy radiating from him, at least not directly. Then again, I don’t know how well the demons mask their intentions. My chest rises and plummets as my nerves and mind warn me not to do it. Yet, my gut is telling me to at least try. My heart is telling me to give him, the allusion, a chance.

Steadily I ease my shaky hand out to interlock with his own. Our hands meet and our fingers glides between each other. Gently, Spike rubs his thumb over my hand, doing his best to ease the shaking by squeezing it. He stares into my eyes and gives me a sharp nod of confidence. His features, however, express uncertainty and worry. I feel a surge of energy, the warning before the storm. I blink rapidly as the sensation of falling consumes me. Then, my vision goes black… 

I’m sat in my mother’s old parlor on the rug as I read her my newest poem. She rests on the loveseat behind me, petting my head gently. I worry for her. Her health hasn’t been ideal in recent weeks.  I read to her, knowing how much it makes her feel better. All I do when I can find a free moment, usually when she’s asleep during the daylight hours, is write more poetry in hopes that it heals her ailments. 

“William, my love,” she groans, moving to sit up. She holds out her hand and swiftly I assist her. She mutters a ‘thank you,’ expressing a weak smile. 

I peer up at my mother admiringly. I feel the fierce duty to protect her. She’s my whole world, I love no one more than her. 

She caress my cheek, “you, my William, are my angel on this Earth. All I want, as my dying wish, is for you to be happy and settled.” 

“I am happy, Mother,” I tell her, truly content. “There’s no other woman I need in my life than you.” 

She grins, releasing a soft giggle. Oh how I long to hear her laugh. It reminds me of when she was healthy and thriving. Gently, she guides me to rest my head in her laps as I did when I was a child. Steadily, she brushes her fingers through my hair comfortingly. “Early one morning…” She starts to sing her lullaby to me. It’s our song. She’s been singing it to me since infancy. It’s brings me unparalleled peace. I adore her voice. I adore her. There’s no one else in the world I need but her. 

With a jolt, like bringing dragged out to see by a strong wave, I’m back in the Summers’s living room. I gasp for air as I settle back into my body, my senses returning to me. The energy surge slowly leaving my bloodstream. Everyone’s eyes are on me, waiting for my words or at least a reaction in someway. 

Spike looks at me eagerly, a faint bit of hope in his eyes.  “Did it work?” 

Silently, I slowly move off the couch, standing to my feet. Spike leaps up from his position, causing me to jump a little. He frowns, disappointment returning to his face. Wrapping my arms around my body safely, I turn and walk out of the room. As I head up the stairs, discussion erupts in the living room. 

“What does this mean?” Xander questions urgently. 

“Well, did it work?” Anya adds. 

“Clearly it fucking didn’t!” Spike barks, followed by a thud and the sound of the coffee table dragging across the hardwood floor with a screech. 

“Spike!” Buffy shouts, “that’s not going to help Y/N!” 

“Screw this,” he curses, storming around downstairs. “I’m out of here! You lot aren’t going to do anything to help her! I’m going to find a way myself!” I hear the front door slam shut moments after. 

_______________________

Days later and I continue to lay in my bed as I have since fake Spike’s attempted to fix me. Alone and silently, I wait for the black smoke-like figures to come haunt me. Sleep is nonexistent because every time I try all I see are those red eyes starring back at me. They wish to drain me cold and consume my soul. The allusions of Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn take turns checking on me. Joyce worries and Buffy tries to get me to eat. Dawnie begs for me to return to normal. What is normal? I can’t remember what I was like before. There’s nothing waiting for me but the Hell I saw. I’m not okay. I’m slipping into an abyss of darkness. 

As night falls, the door to my room creaks open behind me, revealing a strip of light from the hall. Distant voices from downstairs linger in and I see someone cross in front of the light as they enter the room. I remain emotionless on my bed, facing the opposite wall. As a figure appears in my peripheral vision, I focus ahead blankly. 

“Hello there, Love,” Spike whispers, squatting at my bedside. 

I don’t react to his presence physically. Inside, I’m reaching out to him. I’m in a prison made up by my own mind. 

Spike hasn’t seen me since the day after the hospital. When I left the living room and he stormed out, he never came back to be exact. Fake Buffy told me in passing while she was bringing me food that he went away for a few days. I didn’t ask, she just told me. She went by his crypt after he hadn’t come around, he wasn’t there. He left a note saying he’d be back. 

“I won’t touch you, promise! Yo don’t have to worry about that,” he assures with a frown. “They say you haven’t eaten since…” he shakes his head, refusing to speak of that faithful day. “You need to eat Y/N. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” 

He worries, they all worry. What will worrying get them? Why don’t they just put me out of my misery? When will this vision end?! 

“Y/N!” He whispers my name harshly, not to alert the others downstairs. “Come on, Love, I know you’re in there somewhere! I don’t know exactly what Glory did to you or what you saw, but you have to fight this! It was another vision! It was only in your head! Dawnie, Buffy, Joyce, they need you…. I need you….” He barely says the last part, looking down at his hands. 

I process his words, but everything is delayed. Time has been off since I awoke in the hospital or at least changed visions. In my head, time moves slower and the agony is more intense. I’ve missed Spike more than I care to admit, even if he’s not really here with me and it’s all in my head. I welcome the allusion. 

Spike rises from his position with a sigh upon receiving no sort of reaction from me. “I heard of a guru in India who’s apparently dealt with this sort of things before while I was looking for help amongst the covens in New Orleans. I only came back to see if you’ve improved at all...” He moves to step away toward the door. “I’ll check back in before I leave for India,” he informs over his shoulder. 

No, no he can’t leave me, not again! Please, don’t leave me. On impulse, I break free of my mental prison and grab Spike’s wrist. His head whips around as his attention lands on my hand. His eyes meet mine wide-eyed with amazement. 

“Stay,” I struggle to speak for the first time in nearly over a week. 

Spike places his hand over mine. He lowers to my level, knelling beside my bed. A bright smile of glee spreads across his face as relief relishes in his emerald eyes. He cautiously reaches up, cupping my face and I don’t cower away. I ponder the feeling of his touch, leaning into his palm. It makes me feel more alive than I have in days. When I don’t flinch away, he releases a soft chuckle of joy. Before we have the chance to talk, my vision goes black.

____________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​

@hexmancia

[aerinsfables]

Flower Shop AU, part 3

See part 2 here.

——

Monday morning found Bracken back at the shop again. He normally had Sundays and Mondays off, but the sister who worked with him and their mother had had a conflict that day and asked him to cover her shift. “Besides,” she’d reasoned, “You’re always there, anyway.”

He’d made to protest that, despite her comments, he did in fact have a social life (not an entirely truthful statement), but then he saw her excited face and remembered that she was planning to surprise her girlfriend with a lunchtime marriage proposal, so he ultimately smiled and told her he’d be happy to take her shift if she promised to bring his soon-to-be sister-in-law over that night for dinner.

Today’s list of tasks included signing for a delivery of several different types of lilies, making some general “have a good day” and “I love you” bouquets for passersby who might wish to stop inside and pick up some flowers for their friend or significant other during the day, put together a special birthday order to be delivered tomorrow, purchase more flowers which would be needed for a couple of large arrangements that had been ordered for an upcoming funeral, call a few customers to let them know their orders were ready to pick up, and of course, more corsages and boutonnières for the coming weekend. His father would be arriving later that morning to assist, but Bracken always opened the shop, so he’d be on his own for another two or three hours.

Bracken took a peek into one of the refrigeration units inside the shop and pulled out two vases with arranged flowers and colorful ribbons. He placed those on top of the front counter and returned twice more to pull out a total of four additional vases, all of which he placed on the countertop. His trained and careful eye examined each of the arrangements to check for droopy buds, wilting leaves or other problems, but he found none; his mother had assembled these particular arrangements, and her work was flawless as usual. He called the first customer to let them know their order was ready to be picked up, and was midway through dialing the second customer’s phone number when a flurry of motion caught his eye and caused him to turn his attention to the street outside. The shop itself was located alongside a relatively busy street which usually experienced a lot of pedestrian, bicycle and vehicle traffic, but Bracken’s jaw dropped when he saw what had managed to pull him out of his work mindset.

Kendra. She was being pulled by a taller man - a bit roughly, Bracken noted, and also very obviously against her will - from the cafe across the street toward a car which had been parked not far from the very flower shop where Bracken was located.

Well. That wasn’t going to stand.

He was out the door in a flash, without bothering to lock up. Kendra looked like she was in trouble, and although he still didn’t really know her, he’d be damned if he sat back and witnessed anyone being forced to go anywhere or do anything against their will.

“You think that was funny?!” Bracken heard the man yell at her. “You leave those crazy ass flowers on my doorstep, then ghost me all weekend?! What the hell is your problem?!”

“Leave me alone!” she cried as she struggled to break free of his hold on her. “Stop!”

Run faster.

“Hey! Kendra!” Bracken called as he ran. His hail grabbed the attention of both parties, and he managed to intercept them before they made it all the way to what Bracken figured was the man’s car.

“Get lost,” the man told him.

“Let me go!” Kendra shouted, tears streaming down her face.

Bracken placed his hands on top of Kendra’s arm, then pried the man’s hand off of her and set her free. “The lady wishes for you to leave her alone,” he said simply. The man, who had dark, curly hair and what would probably have been handsome features if his face weren’t contorted in rage, yanked his hand out of Bracken’s grasp and moved to take hold of Kendra again. Bracken stepped between them, effectively blocking the man’s access to Kendra with his own body. “Excuse me,” he said. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s time for you to leave.”

“I told you to get lost,” the man positively seethed. He looked like he was going to hit Bracken, who was prepared to defend himself, when another man suddenly dashed in front of Bracken and knocked Kendra’s assailant to the ground. Bracken knew the newcomer - his name was Warren, and he and his brother owned the cafe across the street.

“Who the hell do you think you are, dragging Kendra around like a ragdoll?!” Warren yelled. “I warned you. I straight up warned you. Get out of here. If you know what’s good for you, you will never come around here again. Got it?!”

The man on the ground held a hand to his cheek. Bracken could see a bruise already forming below his eye. “You’re psychotic,” he said to Warren.

“And you’re an astounding piece of trash. If I hear about you hurting Kendra ever again, you’ll be buried trash. Have I made myself clear?” Warren’s face was flushed, and his fists quivered with what Bracken recognized as barely-concealed rage.

Bracken turned toward Kendra, whose cheeks were wet from continued tears and who also cradled her arm - the one the man had grabbed - in front of her. “Are you injured?” he asked as gently as he could.

She shook her head no.

“Do me a favor and get her out of here, Bracken,” Warren said, his eyes trained on the guy who was still lying on the ground. “I’m going to stand here and make sure this loser leaves.”

A small crowd of people were gathering to watch the show, and Bracken agreed that it would be best to remove Kendra from the situation. With a careful hand, he lightly touched her back and gestured toward the flower shop. “Would you like to come inside for a moment?” he asked.

Kendra didn’t verbally respond, but she let him guide her away from the scene and into the store. Bracken led her into the back room, the one he and his family primarily used to store their tools and miscellaneous supplies (vases, plastic wrappings, ribbons, the die-cut machine and materials, shears and scissors, etc.) and pulled out a chair for her to sit on. He then retrieved a couple of water bottles from the refrigerator in that room and passed one to her. She accepted it, but didn’t say anything, and continued to weep.

Concern flooded Bracken’s brain. He didn’t know who that guy had been, but after witnessing the altercation outside, he could understand why Kendra wasn’t in a condition to speak at the moment. “May I see your arm?” he asked.

Kendra hesitated, then stretched her arm out in front of her. It was red around her wrist, and looked tender. He wouldn’t be surprised if bruises started to form later. “It looks alright,” he stated. “I don’t have any ice, unfortunately, but I do have another chilled water bottle I can offer you, if you’d like to use it as a cold compress for now.”

“Th-th-thank y-you,” she gasped as she tried to control her sobs.

His heart went out to her. Was it inappropriate for him to hug her? Probably. She didn’t know him! And he was positive that he was making her feel awkward while he just stood there and watched her cry. He placed a tentative hand on her upper arm. “Would you like to have some time by yourself?”

She gave an emphatic nod at that question.

Bracken withdrew his hand and said, “You’re safe here. Stay as long as you need to. I can order in lunch for the both of us, later, if you’d like. My father will be here in a couple of hours, but I can tell him to leave you alone.” He cast his gaze around the room and found a few boxes of tissues, opened one, and set it down on a countertop near Kendra. “For you,” he said. “I’ll be right outside this door, making phone calls and otherwise managing the front. Feel free to call for me if you need anything.”

A shaky “thank you” was received, and he pulled the door shut as he exited. Later, when she’d calmed down, perhaps he’d ask her some of the questions which were bouncing around in his mind. Who was that guy? Did she want to press charges? Get a restraining order? Was her house safe from him? What had she been doing around this area?

Not that he was upset she’d been right outside - he was actually glad for that. He had no idea how she knew Warren, and couldn’t have predicted his involvement, but at the very least, Bracken was glad to have been able to help in some way.

Speaking of Warren. His entrance into the store caused the little bells at the front to ring. Bracken greeted him and said, “She’s safe, she’s in the back room here,” and pointed to the door behind him. “She wanted some privacy.”

“Thanks for your help out there,” Warren said. “That piece of shit finally fled the scene after he screamed some more. Dumbass thinks he can hurt Kendra. She’ll be staying with me, at least until he’s no longer a threat. Idiot.”

“I’m glad she has someone like you to help her,” Bracken replied. “Her wrist, where she was being pulled around, may start to bruise later. I didn’t notice any other injuries, thankfully.”

Warren placed a hand on Bracken’s shoulder. “Seriously,” he reiterated. “Thank you for your help. If you hadn’t intervened…” he trailed off. “You gave me the extra few seconds I needed in order to jump over some customers and get out there. Thanks again.”

“It was no trouble,” Bracken said. “I couldn’t watch that happen and not do something about it. Kendra doesn’t deserve that treatment. No one does.”

“It was trouble, but I’m grateful you were there.” Warren removed his hand. “Is it okay if I go see her?”

“Be my guest,” Bracken replied. “If you know her well, I really think she could use a hug.”

“That girl is my honorary baby sister,” he said. “She’ll get as many hugs as she wants, and then I’m taking her to my house where she’ll get all the comfort food she could ever need, along with the TV remote. I’ll give her the rest of the week off, if she wants.”

“She works for you?” Bracken asked, unprepared for that particular realization. She worked across the street?

“Yeah,” Warren said. “That douchebag showed up and took hold of her right when she was walking in for her shift. Busiest time of the day. She didn’t even make it to the front door.” He looked at the door behind Bracken again, who caught his cue.

“Go right inside,” Bracken told him. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks again,” Warren repeated. “Seriously. Thank you.”

It wasn’t much longer before Warren and Kendra exited the flower shop, with the former shielding the latter from view. Bracken bid them both farewell, and best wishes, then resumed making phone calls to his customers.

Later that afternoon, shortly before Bracken left for the day, an email popped into the store’s mailbox. He recognized it as an answer to one of the surveys they always sent out after someone picked up their order. This one was from Kendra.

A five-star ranking, accompanied by the simple words, Thank you.

He broke protocol and responded back to her. You’re welcome. Please be safe.

—————

Read part 4 here!

[sockablock]

in light of the truly heartwarming response I got to part one of this story, please enjoy: How To Build a Magic School, Chapter 2

—

It took a special kind of mind to follow the Mighty Nein’s conversations once they really got heated. It helped, at least, that they were seated in close proximity, sprawled across a ring of crates in the main tent, but the fact of the matter was that trying to pay attention to seven people all chiming in at once was already giving Essek a mild headache. And minor neck pain.

“—kind of disguise,” Veth was saying. “I know it’s been a couple years, but folks here…they might not be happy to see a…a...”

“A foreigner,” Fjord said, diplomatically.

“A Xhorhastian,” Yasha tried.

“A drow,” Essek came to their rescue. “No, she is right.”

There was a sharp and semi-affronted exhale from Jester. “Did you get any funny looks when you arrived? Did anyone say anything to you?”

“And do you remember which ones they were?” Caleb added quietly.

Essek hesitated, trying to remember, but through the bright haze of sunlight and hot summer, the furious clamor of construction outside—

“I…do not think anyone saw my arrival.”

“You’re wearing full black and carrying a pink umbrella,” Beau grunted. “Are you sure?”

He hesitated again. “Ah…no.”

“All sorts of interesting people have visited us since the school project started,” Caduceus said. In line with the conventions of his personal narrative, he was attempting to make tea over a tiny, portable burner. “You probably won’t be the strangest thing they’ve seen or will see, working here.”

“They’ve already seen Fjord—”

“Hey! That—why—”

“The people of Felderwin can be touchy though,” Veth continued, smugly ignoring Fjord. “I don’t really think you can blame them, either. If it wasn’t the goblin attacks for years before that, it was the, well, the huge invasion where a purple worm ate the ground and half the town caught on fire.”

She maintained eye contact with Essek as she said this. Her gaze intensified when he shrugged. 

“That is…fair enough,” Caleb cut in. “But I would feel…ill at ease to force you, Essek, to hide if you did, ah, did not wish to…”

Essek gestured vaguely at his appearance. “Actually, I had assumed I would be needing to disguise myself. I have masqueraded as a high elf before, and it would not be difficult to do so again.”

“Isn’t that a lot of spells wasted?” Fjord asked. “Won’t it be annoying to have to keep that up?”

“It’s not that hard,” said Veth, under her breath.

“Oh, oh, I could Polymorph you!” Jester clapped her hands together, enthused. “I can make you anything! You could be an elf, or a tiefling, or a firbolg or a—”

“I appreciate the offer,” Essek said smoothly, “but I do have a few resources at hand. A simple ring of illusion would do the trick.”

“What are we gonna say about you, though?” Beauregard asked. All heads turned toward her. “If the court wants to know about you, a random mage and one of the first hires of the magic school, what are we supposed to tell them?”

They considered this.

“He’s a…family friend?”

“Whose family?”

“Well, I’d like to think of us as a family—”

“Why don’t we say he’s from Nicodranas?” Jester suggested. “We could say he’s, um…oh! That he was recommended by Yussa!”

“Yussa?” Essek echoed.

“Actually…that doesn’t sound half-bad,” Fjord mused. “Master Yussa is a mage that the king recognizes, yes?”

“Ah, he is a mage?”

“He’s a friend of ours!” Jester beamed. “A super powerful wizard that lives in the Open Quay. He’s pretty powerful, Essek. Maybe even more powerful than you!”

This was delivered with a winning smile. Caleb sighed. “From what I gather, Master Yussa is much older, and has had quite a few lifetimes’ worth of practice. He is also…quite reclusive, and therefore not exactly what we had in mind for this school.

“And he said no,” Beauregard muttered.

“Yes, danke, and he also turned us down. The point is, we can pretend you are acquainted with him. That should be enough to assuage the court.”

“Will this…Master Yussa agree to such a thing?” Essek asked.

Caleb answer with a faint grin. “He is a wizard who feels he is…not so beholden to court pressures. Also, he owes us a favor, as is.”

Essek couldn’t help but match Caleb’s expression. “Is that so? Then I find I quite admire this man.”

“We saved him from the Happy Fun Ball,” Yasha supplied, a collection of syllables that no betting man would have ever predicted to come from her. “He likes us.”

“He loves us,” Jester corrected. “He has our Little Willi and his assistant Wensforth practically worships us and everything!”

After the pertinent information had been properly located, Essek nodded. “That is, er, lovely. I owe him my thanks.”

“Now we just gave to give you a new name,” said Veth. “I don’t think we can keep calling you ‘Thelyss,’ unless we want the idiots on the Committee getting suspicious.”

“The…excuse me?”

“The Arcane Restoration Supervisory Committee,” Caleb sighed, “is a group of concerned officials—”

“—nosy dillweeds—"

“—that was formed to manage—”

“—micromanage—”

“—to oversee our current rebuilding efforts. It is very likely,” he continued, giving Beau a look, “that this is the court’s way of reconciling with the fact that an unknown quantity has been handed the reigns of the Dwendalian Empire’s arcane future.”

“I know that,” Beau countered, “I just don’t like them.”

“Caleb is the unknown quantity,” Caduceus added.

“…I see,” said Essek, eventually. “Should I, ah, be concerned about them?”

“Probably not,” Beau said. “They’re just a bunch of nobles who think they understand the first thing about magic.”

“You being an expert on the subject, of course,” was what Essek did not say, because self-preservation interrupted just in time. Instead, what left his mouth was:

“I had also anticipated concern about my involvement—that is, Shadowhand Essek Thelyss’s involvement—in this matter. If necessary, I can masquerade as someone else. I, ah, will still need an umbrella during the daylight hours, though. Or perhaps a large hat?”

The elongated squeal from Jester atop the milk crate filled him with regret.

“What was the name you used last time?” Fjord asked. “Desden…Desbin…”

“‘Dezran Thain,’” Essek supplied. “Actually, I could employ that title again.”

“Uh…is that a good idea?” Veth asked. “Wasn’t Dezran a friend of the Assembly’s?”

Essek shook his head. “Strictly speaking, Thain was just a very minor lord that lived in Nicodranas. When the peace talks began, he was called upon by Da’leth to play tour guide and host due to his interest in magic and local familiarity. Only he, de Rogna, and Tversky knew who I really was.”

“It is…not bad, as far as our plans go,” Caleb said after a while. “It aligns with the story that you are Nicodranian, and it might actually sit well with the court members that had favored the Assembly. As for those who supported us against them…”

Beau rolled her eyes when Caleb’s gaze fell on her. “Yeah, yeah, an Expositor will vouch for him.”

“An Expositor?”

“Gods, fine, this Expositor.”

“Thank you.” Then he gave Essek a nod. “That about covers it then, ja? This story, we can tell the court, and then—"

“Wait, hang on—” And this was Beauregard again, leaning forward, staring directly at Essek.

“Yes?” he said.

“What did you tell your court?” she asked.

—

Mother had spoken to the Bright Queen alone. This was not technically out of the ordinary, as the Umavis of Rosohna frequently met to discuss state matters too selective for anyone else. But Essek was unused to being considered “anyone else,” which was why the situation still rankled, in his mind.

“Tell me again,” he turned to face his mother, floating clothes and books drifting past his head. “Is that all you said?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

At his still-annoyed expression, his mother sighed. “Yes, dear. I just told Leylas that this was a unique opportunity for you to integrate yourself within the Empire and gain ample information that would otherwise be inaccessible. We all saw how abruptly the war ended, and how quickly the Assembly seemed to fall afterwards. No one can blame her for being curious.”

A small inkwell drifted across the room as Essek resumed packing. “And then?” he prompted.

His mother sighed again.

“And then I reassured her Majesty that there were plenty of souls that could temporarily come together to fill the void you would leave behind—”

No doubt all from Den Thelyss, Essek thought.

“—and that even in absentia, you would still be serving as a valuable font of information for the Dynasty. Which, after all, is what the Shadowhand is meant to do. And of course, should it ever be required, you could always be called home.”

“…indeed.”

“Indeed,” his mother smiled. “Though, of course, this is all under the assumption that aside from your prospective employer, nobody else will know who you truly are.”

Essek gave this due consideration.

“I have a feeling that the rest of the Mighty Nein will be told, Mother.”

The Umavi of Den Thelyss was not an easy woman to read. Her expression gave nothing away as she said, “I see.”

“But,” Essek added, because he felt he needed to, “I don’t think anyone else has to know.”

She reached out slowly and plucked a mirror from the air.

“I have more faith in you than that, my dear. I am confident you will ensure it is so.”

—

“—temporary leave of absence,” said Essek, now, to the Mighty Nein. “I have been the Shadowhand for most of my life, and a diligent scholar of the nation before that. I was owed some vacation days.”

“Vacation days—” began Fjord.

“But how temporary?” asked Beau, cutting him off. “I thought it’d be hard for you—you know, as you said, the Shadowhand—to just up and leave, after all. How long can you stay here?”

Essek gave her a wry smile. “Fortunately, I expect my definition of ‘temporary’ is somewhat different than yours.”

“Longer,” said Caduceus.

“Longer,” he agreed. “It is very safe to assume that I can stay for at least a decade, if I wish.”

“And I certainly hope you do wish,” said Caleb quickly. “There are many things we will need to accomplish, after all, not just today during construction, but in the future. And, ah,” he added, a little more pointedly, “I do feel as if I should thank you again. For everything you have done for us, and now today in volunteering your expertise.”

“Man, we’re really going to need it,” Jester groaned, throwing herself back across the milk crate. “The Committee keeps telling us to go faster, hire this person, that person, build the school different—everything.”

“Really?”

Caleb chuckled. “Yes, but that all can be explained tomorrow,” he said. “For now, though,” and he stood, crouching to avoid the ceiling of the tent, “let me show you to where we are staying. I expect you must be tired, ja? If not by the travel, then at least the time difference.”

For just a moment, Essek thought about saying otherwise. But there was something in Caleb’s hopeful expression that made him pause.

He yawned very minutely, and smiled. “It would be nice to put my things away,” he admitted. “And, ah, perhaps have a short rest.”

“Of course, of course,” Caleb gestured to the door, but did stop to address the group at large. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon,” he added, “but if anyone needs me…Jester?”

She saluted cheerfully, for the spirit of it. “Got it!”

“And of course, Veth, you are the Professor in charge.”

This was answered with an expansive wave, and a grin.

“Of course, Headmaster! Leave everything to us!”

—

“So…Headmaster, eh?” One pair of footsteps—and then sheepishly, another—began to crunch through the freshly-dewed grass. All around them, spanning the entirety of the field, a legion of masons and stonecutters and workmen cut, sawed, hammered, and hefted the thick wooden frame of an enormous building in its first stages. A group of surveyors stood at the center, arguing as more lumber was lugged into view, directing the flow of Construction and Progress.

“Apparently so,” Caleb said, “though I have to admit, I am not quite used to that title yet.”

Something enormous soared overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun.

“Would you prefer Professor Widogast?”

Caleb sighed as the shadow vanished.

“I prefer ‘Caleb,’ to be truly honest.”

Essek chuckled. “Then for now at least, I will oblige.”

He glanced up as the next shadow approached, squinting to see in the bright morning light. After rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times, he could make out the shape of a massive carpet, carrying sacks of sand and brick.

“Spoils from the remnants of Soltryce,” Caleb explained, before Essek could ask. “We found quite a number of things in the basement of that school, some…well.” His expression went dark, and not just because of the shadow overhead. “Many of those things we managed to release. Some, ultimately, had to be destroyed.” But then he gestured to the enormous architectural undertaking around them and added in a lighter tone, “Some things, though, ended up being rather useful. Like the, ah, look, over there—”

Essek blinked again, and this time spotted what appeared to be twelve hulking stone statues, moving slowly between a line of workers. Each had gait like rock grinding on steel, and were lifting whole logs like they weighed nothing.

“Guardian constructs,” Caleb said. “They were a nuisance to battle, but once de Rogna was gone, they went dormant and stopped fighting. We figured out how to pilot them later.”

Essek looked suitably impressed by this. He shifted his umbrella into his other hand.

“Really?” he said. “And are you now their master?”

“Oh no, nein,” Caleb quickly shook his head. “Honestly, it was suggested, but I…there was something that bothered me about the idea of having control of them. And not just I, but…it felt wrong to let any single person control a fleet of sleepless warriors. So Beauregard got creative.”

“Indeed?”

Caleb pointed to a wooden sign that was nailed into the ground a few feet from their path. A handful of workers was crouching next to it, carefully reciting what was scrawled across its surface. After a moment, to Essek’s genuine surprise, he realized they were practicing an arcane incantation.

“How do—”

“A pronunciation guide,” Caleb said. He was—yes, he was smiling about this. “We managed to translate enough verbal commands to make them usable for anyone who can read Common.”

“But…but…that’s everyone,” Essek said, hurrying a bit to catch back up. It took him some effort to tear his gaze from the sign. “Are you not…are you not concerned about this information falling into the wrong hands?”

“Ah, but if anyone can use them, then there is no problem. The playing field, as they say, has evened out. That was Beauregard’s idea, anyhow.” At the silence that followed, Caleb tilted his head and said, “Think of it this way, ja? A magic sword controlled by an evil person is not so dangerous if even a peasant can tell it to stop. What is the use of a weapon of war that listens to everyone’s commands?”

“Yes, but…” Essek struggled to find the right words. “Now…now…right, but now the sword is a, a, a butter knife! What would be the point of that?”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. Then he managed a trying smile. “That…depends on what you need though, no? Right now, what we are looking for is not war. It is toast. Er…that is, a metaphorical toast.”

“But…still, if that is the case, anyone could steal your constructs,” Essek said, somewhat subdued. “Should they not be guarded? As you would protect a prized tool?”

Caleb actually snorted at this. “If anybody attempted to do so,” he said, “they would receive quite an earful from the Chief Surveyor. They would not dare.”

And then Caleb turned, met Essek’s gaze, and it looked like he was waiting for cheerful agreement.

Neither response felt appropriate. Something about this still bothered Essek, almost like trying an ill-fitting sock.

“I think, ah, that I prefer jam,” he managed eventually. “On my toast, that is. And perhaps, a cup of tea?”

Blessedly, this elicited a chuckle from Caleb. “Of course, of course. That I can provide. We are quite close to the tavern, as is.”

And indeed, after only a few more minutes, they passed through a thin line of trees and arrived at the edge of a small, but bustling town.

“Welcome—well, welcome back to Feldwerin,” Caleb corrected. “Though this time, I expect, you will be staying longer.”

—

When the war ended, Felderwin Tillage had been left in a state of utter chaos. Purple worms had torn apart acres of land, fields had been razed by advancing soldiers, and scores of houses, stables, and shops had been burned to the ground when the invasion began.

And then, the Cerberus Assembly had fallen, and more information flooded the populous. They’d been told, virtually overnight, that the Archmages had been secretly using this town as a testing ground. They’d unleashed uncontrolled magic here for generations, tricking and abusing the townsfolk for their experiments, forcing a local lad—the widower—to work for them, and when people fell ill, they’d blamed it all on molded fruit.

Suddenly, the villagers felt quite foolish. And then, they’d started to get angry.

So it came as a genuine shock to Caleb that when the time came to build their campus, Veth had stepped forward and said it should be in Felderwin.

“But…they’d never agree,” he’d said. “Why should they?”

But she’d shaken her head. “They will.”

And so, the next morning, Veth marched through the village center with Luc and Yeza following behind, the Mighty Nein scrambling to keep up. She’d stormed up the stairs of the Town Hall, looked the Starosta dead in his eye, and informed him that everything was about to change.

All they’d need, she said, was a swath of land outside town, far enough away that it wouldn’t interfere with the calm that this village had been so denied, but close enough that it was still in the tillage. She’d told him, when he’d protested, that yes, there would be mages, but there would also be student mages, young, burgeoning minds that would spend quite a long time at the school. They’d be trained there, fed and housed and cared for, and eventually, once they grew up and graduated, when they looked back fondly on their younger years, it’d be in Felderwin.

Besides, she’d added, tapping the side of her nose, now the King would have to protect this place. After all, it’d be right next to the Empire’s arcane center, and wouldn’t it be nice to finally have some proper defenses? Not to mention, if you needed to borrow any of the bright young masons and stonecutters we’d hired, well. That could be arranged, easy.    

Sometimes, she’d said, it doesn’t hurt to be on the map. Because then the world pays attention to what happens to you.

And then the mayor had said, Aren’t you dead?

And then Veth had informed him, I got better.

And so it was now, a few months later, that Caleb led Essek past the newly-rebuilt Brenatto Apothecary, toward the Glassy Grass Inn. It had become the go-to tavern for the Mighty Nein, not because they were unwelcome in Veth’s house, per say, but more due to a gentle conversation that Yeza had had with his wife about work-life balance after Caduceus had walked into the center of the shop during its busiest hours in nothing but a towel and a toothbrush.

After that, they agreed to at least sleep next door.

The bell overhead rang as they entered, though the sound was lost in the din of voices. Essek had barely shut his parasol before a burly man in an apron rushed past, carrying tray upon tray of drink and food.

“It’s gotten rather busy since we moved in,” Caleb explained. “Word got around, and apparently people quite like staying in the same pub as us. That, and old Littlebottle agreed to let our workers take meals and rooms at a discount. The barkeep.”

“Really?” Essek raised an eyebrow. “How generous of him.”

“Well, apparently he is grateful for the business. And, I expect, grateful that our project has kept his neighbor preoccupied. Apparently Veth and Yeza were responsible for quite a number of the scorch marks at the edge of his lawn.”

“Is that so?” Essek chuckled. “I find it easy to believe.” Then he added, as he watched Caleb wave to a face in the crowd, “It seems you have taken well to your new assignment. And life in this town.”

He was caught off-guard when he noticed the faintest coloring of Caleb’s ear.

“Oh, er…is that so? Have I?”

“Well, I…just meant it seems you have made friends with the locals. And you, ah, move through the village with purpose, and had quite a lot to say about your endeavor.”

“Is that—scheisse, was I annoy—”

“Oh! No, no, not at all. I just, er…”

They stopped in the doorway leading up to the second floor, laughter and conversation winding slowly all around them.

“I just meant, ah…it is nice to see you so relaxed,” Essek finished lamely. “Retirement from adventuring seems to suit you.”

Caleb seemed to relax. “Well,” he murmured, “I am glad you think so. Though I must say, my retirement has certainly been eventful.”

“Better still than the typical hero’s retirement, no?”

“Ha! Lucky for me, eh?”

They stood there for a moment longer, as if neither were sure who should go first. But after a short pause, Caleb stepped back and began rummaging through his pockets. “Here, ah, here, take this,” he said, and pressed a small silver key into Essek’s hand. “It leads to my bedroom, but you can rest there while I see about getting you a room. And some tea.”

Eseek turned it over, looped a finger through the cord. “Oh, but I can’t just leave you to—”

“No, nein, I insist,” said Caleb. “I do not mind—”

“Are you sure—”

“Of course.” And with the air of someone playing a trump card in a social encounter, he added, “After all, you have travelled quite a distance, my friend. Please. I will join you in a moment.”

—

The Mighty Nein ate their sandwiches peacefully in the meadow outside their tent.

Then:

“I thought he’d be wearing different clothes.”

“What?”

“I dunno. I just thought he’d look…less shadowy.”

“Like he wouldn’t be wearing that creepy mantle, or something?”

“Yeah! Like I thought he’d be in, like, summery clothes! Like a flowy shirt and regular pants and short sleeves and straw sandals. He is taking a break from being a spymaster, after all.”

There a pause as they pondered the likelihood of this.

“He…could be wearing that under the mantle,” Caduceus said.

“Sandals? Really?” said Fjord.

“But his skin, he probably could not wear those if he wanted to,” Yasha said.

“Hmm…that is a good point,” Jester conceded. “But still, all black? In the summer? That’s

“Not if he’s got, I dunno, ice under there,” said Veth. “What if he has a bunch of ice strapped to his chest?”

“Ice? Now, really…” said Fjord, but everyone else had started to ruminate on this.

“No stains,” said Beau eventually.

“What?”

“No stains,” she repeated “If there was ice, there’d be stains. From it melting, right?”

“Or he’d be—ugh, gross—he’d be leaking,” said Veth. “Like there’d be puddles underneath him and stuff.”

Three of them snickered delightedly at this. Then Caduceus passed around more juice, and more sandwiches.

—

There was a cat on the bed when Essek walked in, sprawled out as if it owned the place.

Disguised drow and disguised fey regarded each other for a moment. Then Frumpkin stretched lazily, and yawned.

It occurred to Essek, as he continued to stand in the doorway, that this might be some kind of test. Minutes passed as he struggled to find the right thing to say—this was a familiar, was it not? And then he realized that anything he did end up saying would probably come across as rather silly. He decided to err on caution and simply nodded to the cat before sitting down on a worn wooden chair.

It ignored him completely. Essek twisted at his sleeve.

And finally, by the Grace of the Luxon, there was a polite knock at the door.

“Come in, come i—Caleb, that is much too much food.”

“Nonsense,” said Caleb, who had closed the door behind him rather inelegantly with a foot. Carefully balanced across his arms were two wooden trays absolutely laden with breads, cheeses, sliced meats and fruits that Essek at a first glance couldn’t name. A third tray floated behind Caleb, supported by a faintly-shimmering Unseen Servant, carrying drinks and utensils.

Not to be outdone, Essek gave a faint smile and flicked his wrist with a flourish. The trays rose out of Caleb’s grasp and drifted toward the table.

“I had it,” but his former student was now smiling as well. “Though I have missed seeing an esteemed Gravaturgist at work.”

The food came to a gentle rest between them. “I have also missed showing off,” Essek said wryly. “It is hard to find someone in the Dynasty unfamiliar enough with Dunamancy to appreciate my skills quite as much as you d—you alldid.”

“We did make you teleport us around quite a bit,” Caleb chuckled. He picked up a small piece of bread and split it in two, offering half to Essek. “I do not think we ever repaid you properly, either.”

Essek examined the bread in his hands. “Well, if I remember the contents of your letter correctly, it is the world that should be trying to repay you. The Chained Oblivion? Really, Caleb?”

“Oh, ah…” The man actually had the nerve to sound bashful. “That was mostly an accident, as it were.”

“You…sorry, you accidentally defeated the Chained God? Is that what you are telling me?”

“Well, er, no, not exactly.” He picked up one of the small round fruits and held it between his fingers. “It was sort of an accident that we found it…or rather, we did not know what we were looking for.”

This sounded like the Mighty Nein that Essek knew. He motioned for Caleb to go on.

“We had been…following a dream of Yasha’s,” Caleb said. “She had received it from the Storm Lord ages ago, but with one thing and another, we had never had time to pursue this. There was…a place, an island in the sea, she had felt it was a place of great importance. We weren’t sure why, until we arrived and found…”

A place of starlight and iron chains, buried in the heart of a dead volcano. A chamber, a ritual-site, fading incense and chalk, ensnaring an obelisk and a shattered crystal and at its center, a pulsating, churning darkness—

A hole in reality, Essek would remember, lying awake that night. The bastards had found a hole in reality and then they’d jumped in—

And found themselves standing in a pocket dimension…or at least, that’s what they’d thought. The air swirled with dark mist, the sky alive and churning. The walls of the world seemed to lurch and expand and it was Caduceus who realized that the whole plane was breathing. Jester shifted them out, returning them to the chamber, and they began to pour through the notes left behind. They realized that someone had found a Divine Shackle, then turned it in on itself, re-directed the ritual, created a bridge that would grant them access to the very being of Tharizdun, the most ancient and chaotic of forces—

“But who?” Essek breathed. He held a gooseberry, though he didn’t know it yet. “Who was responsible?”

Caleb scowled. “They left their notes behind. Who else would it be?”

As far as the Cobalt Soul could tell, the archmages themselves had not originally been involved in any actual cult. But after Vence’s capture, and Tasithar’s transfer, a spark of interest had been ignited in the minds of some of the nation’s brightest.

“It is like your metaphor,” Caleb said. “Before, they were simply sailing on a boat—"

Essek hesitated. The horrible sourness of the fruit might’ve been muddying his concentration. “It is what?”

“Like they were sailing,” Caleb repeated. “And every so often, they could lean over the edge and skim the sea for knowledge from relative safety. But capturing the cultists had…inspired the Academy to instead, go for a dive. And so they dove, down into the deeps, plumbing the darkest tides for secrets. And of course, they ultimately encountered the monster of all monsters…”

From there, it had been a matter of getting the proof—about this, about everything else they’d done—into the hands of Cobalt Soul. But word got out, and whispers travelled, and more people than the Nein could ever have imagined rose up, demanded justice and retribution—

Essek remembered the reports he’d received on the morning of the fall of the Cerberus Assembly. The casualties had been extreme, but what happened afterwards, even more so.  

“You arrested them,” he murmured. “The ones that survived, anyway.”

“And still, quite a few of them escaped,” Caleb sighed. “That is of course not even including the fact that not all of them were guilty enough to fully imprison to start with. As I understand, Hass has left to see the world, and Lord Uludan is still a diplomat for the king.”

Essek glanced at a slice of cured ham. He wondered if it would be enough to counter the taste in his mouth.

“With the…Assembly gone,” he said carefully, “there will not be a council of mages to balance the rule of the king, anymore. The nation has lost a powerful governing body and a source of great strength. What do you suppose this means for Dwendal?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at Essek. “I certainly do not think the Assembly was doing much balancing to begin with,” he said, almost as slowly. “As for the King, well…the man is quite old, and very paranoid. He will be tricky to manage, and yet there are a number of good people surrounding him. In fact, the elimination of the Assembly could allow them to finally step up. That, and this nation has now witnessed a historic uprising of the people. For the first time in a long time, citizens are trying to make their voices heard. And unless the royal court wants more chaos, or to fall in the way that the Assembly did, for once, I think they will have to listen.”

Essek lowered his hand. He stared at Caleb. “But…they are just people,” he said, astonished. “How could they know what is best for the nation?”

Caleb’s expression changed, slightly. He was silent for quite a long stretch of time.

“My dear friend…they are the nation.”

—

“No,” said Fjord.

“But—”

“No, Jester. I will not let you tape ice cubes to my armpit.”

There was a pause. Then a huff.

“Fine, I’ll ask Beau.”

—

After lunch, Essek was shown to a room slightly farther down the hall.

“It will likely be some time before we will be able to move into the school grounds,” Caleb said, “so I recommend you make yourself comfortable here.”

Essek was given another small key, tied to a leather cord.

He felt like something needed to be said. Gods, if he could just figure out what.

“I, ah…thank you,” he tried. “For…lunch, for everything, the room, and, ah, if you need gold—"

Caleb shook his hand. “Nein, please, no. It is, as they say, on the house. More accurately, on the dime of the royal treasury.”

There was another hesitation. Essek sought desperately for a solution, but when nothing came, he sighed. And gave up.

“I, um…am sorry,” he said. “If I…made a statement that was…incorrect.”

Caleb studied his expression. Then, he seemed to sigh as well.

“A school is for learning, is it not? Maybe we will be surprised by who teaches.”

“Er…”

“I just mean,” Caleb murmured, “that we do truly come from different worlds. That are, in many odd ways, rather the same. I just hope it will not be too much.”

Essek was not a stupid man. He opened his mouth again, to protest, but stopped when a hand brushed against his arm.

“You should get some rest,” Caleb said. “Unpack, adjust to our time zone, relax. Then tomorrow,” and here there was the faintest hint of smile, “I will give you a real tour of the school. You should have a voice in some of our plans, too, for the curriculum and into the future. And,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “it will be better to have everyone around when we finish the story. Yasha does very good sound effects for the Chained Oblivion.”

There was another pause. Not nearly as tense, but still quite bewildered.

“She does…what?”

“You did not think that was the end of the story, did you?” Caleb grinned. “That we toppled the Assembly and the Maw that Devours just vanished?”

Essek recalled the other reports.

“Ah,” he said. “More the fool I.”

Caleb gave him a friendly pat. “Once a bridge is built, it goes both ways,” he said. “It is funny how often we wizards forget that.”

Then, in the warmth of the hallway, he nodded.

“Have a rest, Essek Thelyss. I will be down the hall. Let me know if you need anything.”

Then he nodded, and turned around, and left.

—

“Jester, I—oh gods, that’s cold.”

“Hold still, silly! You have to hold still.”

“But I—ah—oh, oh gods.”

—

And later that evening, alone in his room, Essek summoned an exquisite onyx chest. He popped it open, and slowly all his worldly possessions began to drift out. Clothes, papers, books and components slowly floated across the room, settling into the proper drawers or hanging themselves in the closet.

And then, Essek collapsed into bed. With a wave of his hand, a small mirror appeared.

It was black, made from polished volcanic glass and set into a twisted metal frame. It had been a gift, and as far as mirrors went, it was rather lacking, but—

He sighed.

It would get the job done.

—

[Part 1] - [Writing Tag] - [The Bail Project] - [National Bail Fund Network]

[damejudyhench]

Many thanks to @captastra @strangefable @jumpship90 and @kourumi for your writing prompts from the “touch” meme! They went together really nicely, so I’ve combined them into one fic. I hope you enjoy 😊

the prompts were:

2. Running fingers through hair

16. Massaging them

17. Holding the other’s chin up

32. Caressing the other’s back

34. Washing the other’s body

this is so indulgent to me, it’s sfw but I’m still sitting here like 😳😳😳

tags: canon-typical injury, blood, mention of corporal punishment, bathing kink, lying

Max took forever in the shower. It was a fact of life, a law of nature, as inevitable as gravity. Whether it was a trauma reaction to his time in Tartarus, his determination to prove that if cleanliness was next to Lawfulness then he was the most Lawful person on board, or simple vanity; once he was in there, it was almost impossible to get him out. Nyoka, the newest member of their crew, could pound on the door all she wanted; she might as well be cussing out gravity itself.

So Pearl let him be for longer than she might have, but eventually concern started to nag at her. Max was hurt; a larger than average mantis had caught them unawares while they were scavenging the canyon that lay outside of Stellar Bay. They’d all been left worse for wear, but Max had taken the brunt of it, and he’d staggered back to the Unreliable with his face pale, swearing through gritted teeth as he clutched his arm to his chest in the position of maximal stability that signified a fracture or worse. He might need her help. After a few cautious knocks on the bulkhead, followed by a few less cautious, Pearl used her Captain’s override and pushed inside.

Max rounded on her like a wounded animal cornered in its lair. Shirtless, his injured arm strapped against his chest, his other hand held his razor. His jaw was still more than half covered in shaving foam, and she could see a fine thread of bright red blood trickling down the skin of his throat.

“Yes, I am still using the bathroom! Architect forfend someone on this ship might actually possess any standards of decency…”

Screw him.

“Mind you don’t cut yourself,” she snarled back, and left him to his own devices.

Around five minutes later, as she lay on her bunk scanning through an old data pad, there was a knock at the door. Max stood in the gangway, his towel draped around his neck, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I apologise… and I would appreciate your assistance, Pearl. If you’re not too busy, of course.” His tone was courteous, but his face was tight and drawn, and she knew he must be in pain despite the strapping.

“Any time, Max.”

In the shower, she took the towel and the razor gently from his hand and set them on the sink, then turned to face him. His shoulder was bruised an ugly purple and red, fading to deep brown beneath his collarbone where it was dented and distorted. It looked sore as hell, and Pearl sucked her breath through her teeth in sympathy.

She pushed him gently back until he was sitting on the toilet, then took his canidfeather brush and applied a new coat of lather to his face. She shaved him with slow, even strokes, pausing occasionally to grasp his chin and tilt his head from side to side and then back so that she could check her progress. Max looked throughout as though he wanted to say something, but as in love with the sound of his own voice as he was, he kept still to avoid injury.

When she was done, she wiped his face clean with his towel and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Max got to his feet and shuffled toward the shower

“Of all the damned bones one might break, this has to be the worst… I can scarcely do anything by myself,” he grumbled.

“It’s the most commonly broken bone in the body,” Pearl replied mildly. Max had hang ups about injury, about physical weakness. He took it as a sign that he was straying from the path; or worse, that his path lead to destruction. Pearl knew because she’d been raised that way herself. Those who were meant to survive, survived.

That was how her job had worked. She’d treated those whose benefit to their corporation had outweighed the cost of their treatment. Of course, ultimately it was down to the Plan who survived and who didn’t, the corps were kind of a middleman, but the OSI said that was ok because the corps being in charge was down to the Plan too. It was a whole system based on a lie so obvious she couldn’t understand how she’d once believed it, or how so many people still did. Including the man in front of her, who was self conscious about asking for help when he’d broken his collarbone.

She locked the door, unfastened his pants and eased them down over his hips along with his shorts. She made a neat pile of his clothing, then reached for the sling that held his arm.

“You want to take this off or keep it?”

“I’d rather it remain dry.”

“Ok… you ready?”

She let Max brace himself, with his good arm supporting the other, then gently released the sling and added it to the pile. Max flinched, but nodded when she glanced at him. Pearl activated the shower, sending warm water streaming down over his body. She smiled at the sight of him. His hair fell forward into his eyes, and he gave a deep sigh of pleasure.

Pearl stepped back and frowned. It was going to be tough to wash him properly without getting herself soaked in the process. And Max hadn’t been able to shower for a few days, which would have been a torment to him. If she was going to do it, she ought to do it right. Besides, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t seen each other naked before. She undressed quickly, adding her clothing to his own, then bent to pick up the soap and the washcloth. Max’s eyes were wide, and whatever he’d wanted to say before seemed to have gone from his mind entirely. He saw that she was watching him, and hurriedly looked away.

The air was warm and steamy; the water pleasant on her skin. She soaped Max’s shoulders, his chest, carefully avoiding the injured area, then worked her way down his arms. His muscles were tight beneath his skin, and she dug in a little and squeezed, working out the knots in his body. He had thick, strong fingers that were just long enough to be elegant, she thought as she washed his hands. She went to her knees to do his legs, and noticed that his cock twitched a little, but when she looked up at him his eyes were closed, and he seemed quite lost in the moment.

“Spin around,” she said, getting back to her feet. Max frowned, and he once again avoided meeting her gaze.

“I’ll be fine now. Thank you.”

“What? You’re kidding. There’s no way you can use that fancy stick with the sponge on it… I’ll do your back, I don’t mind.”

Max gave a pointed sigh and turned, but she noticed the droop in his neck, the way he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Strangely, he looked frightened.

His broad back was a lattice of scars, and Pearl brought her hand up to her mouth to avoid gasping or otherwise making a sound.

“I haven’t seen it in a while… is it still as bad as I remember?” Max said bitterly.

“They did this to you? In prison?”

“Where else? I can’t remember what I did to earn it. I was hardly a model prisoner, not at first anyway.”

“It’s just scars, Max. You’ve got those grazes on your chest, some on your legs… it’s not that different.”

“It is different,” he hissed. “Because they broke me.”

“They… broke you?”

Max looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You were in prison for heresy, right? And look what you did as soon as you got out. You went straight after the journal, just as heretical as you were before. They didn’t break you.”

On impulse, she hugged him. Her arms around his waist and her chest against his back, both of them slippery with soap.

“You’re stubborn, Max. They could drop Groundbreaker on your head and you’d get up and keep right on going after the Equation.”

He laughed, a sound that was rare and delightful in its rarity, and relaxed beneath her touch as she ran the cloth over his back.

“You have a way with words, Pearl. And you may have a point. Nevertheless, I must ask that you don’t tell the rest of the crew.”

“Your secret’s safe with me… now sit down for this last part.”

Max settled himself on the tiled floor, bracing with his good arm. He leaned back against her legs, a pleasant sensation with his warm wet skin and the solid weight of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, rinsing out the worst of the sweat and the dust, then reached for the elegant glass bottle she’d had her eye on ever since the first time she’d set foot in his cabin.

Max’s voice carried a tone of warning. “That one’s  expensive, you only need a purpleberry sized amount - a fucking purpleberry sized amount, good Law!” Pearl laughed and ignored him, pouring the rich, sweet smelling shampoo into her palm. She lathered his hair, breathing in the scent of lavender and nearmint and Max. His hair was thick and soft, and he groaned in pleasure as she alternated between running her fingers through it and massaging his scalp.

When he was clean from tip to tail she helped him to his feet, let the water rinse over him. Finally, with a nod that mixed pleasure and regret, he was done. She towelled him off and helped him dress and reapply his sling, ran a comb through his hair. She doubted it was to his usual standard, but it kept it out of his eyes.

“Good as new, Max. So listen… our field guide, Nyoka, she’s got something she wants to do that she needs a crew for. If we help her out, she’s gonna give us a big discount in return. So I figure we do her thing, let you rest up, then once you’re all healed we can head out. I’ll find my broker, you can find your… scholar.”

“My scholar,” Max murmured. He took her hand, and for a moment Pearl was again convinced that he was going to say something, but instead he squeezed her tightly. “Thank you, Captain.”

[partytilfajr]

Salam sir, you are missed! Is it foolish of me to pray that I accomplish something huge in my life? I was raised to believe that praying for something like that is bad because "fame" corrupts the heart and a Muslim should never. But I can't see myself living a normal life. I want my life to have meaning and touch many lives (in a good way). I know something like that comes with the good as well as the bad, but I crave the excitement and stimulation that the out-of-the-ordinary-life presents. I'm afraid of praying for it because of what I was raised to believe. Am I making any sense?

Wa alykum as-salaam,

You are too kind, thank you.

Realize that you will be rewarded based on your intentions. If you are doing things so that people will praise you, so that you get a statute, so that people will put you in a history book, God will give you what you desire. If the reason you are being kind to someone is so they will speak well of you, to praise you, and to trust you, God will give you what you desire. So when people ask why did God not grant Heaven to those who do not believe in Him, even if they did good things, we should ask ourselves: why and for who did they do good?

No one says you need to do anything ordinary, or anything boring, but you must be aware of the challenges that you will face. If your parents are worried about you pursuing non-traditional routes in life, remember that they are parents who want you to be safe, and being a lawyer or something is safer than pursuing a career as a movie director, for example. So keep that in mind, they’re worried for you, that’s all.

But you have to remember that when you do things for people, people can be wrong. The people can believe horrible things. I believe in democracy and think that rule by consensus is a bedrock of our religion (see: Surah Al-Shura); however, sometimes the people can believe terrible things. Like in America, where most people supported segregation, that was rightly struck down.

So you shouldn’t guide yourself by what the people want, because that is corrupting, that is why fame is corrupting--you are beholden to people. They are the ones who determine whether you are popular or not, whether you have fame or not, and you will be beholden to them. If you were a famous musician, the quality of your work matters very little in comparison to its popularity, that is what will determine your fame. If you betray your principles for fame, this is where corruption emerges.

We must remember that God has Dominion over everything, and that this life is simply a test of what we will do with what God has given us. You are talented, masha Allah, now what will you use that talent for? To simply get rich, okay, Uthman ibn Affan was rich (and he gave his money all away), now what will you do with it? Will you heed The Qur’an which warns us:

"You are obsessed by greed for more and more until you go down to your graves. Nay, in time you will come to understand! ... and on that Day you will most surely be called to account for [what you did with] the boon of life! [102:1-3, 8]

The meaning of your life will be determined the most by those who are closest to you. You may get prayers from people who saw some facade of who you are, but they didn’t know the real you. So seek to do good, instead of simply to please people, because there are many people in history who were hated in their times, but turned to be great, and many who were loved in their times, but turned out to be terrible--seek to do the righteous thing, seek to follow God.

Why?

Because when you seek people’s approval, you will be enslaved to their whims. Not to what is best. We must strike a balance between respecting the consensus of people, while ensuring that if we are given a place of trust, of leadership, that we must do so in the best possible way, not simply the most pleasing way, otherwise that is not leadership, it is cowardice.

In the collection of Imam Muslim, The Prophet said:

“He who is asked to do something, is assisted in it; and he who asks for something becomes obsessed with it.”

So, I suggest that you put God as your center. Ask God for help in achieving your goals, ask for God to keep your heart on the straight path, and pray that God guides you to what is best for you. If you make a mistake, repent, and reset. If you make another, repent again. Never give up. If you want to do something, do it, but remember that you and I will face God for what we have done, and those actions will be determined by our intentions, not by what people think of us.

(Just remember me when you hit it big, insha Allah)

[bottlecaprabbitgames]

I posted 587 times in 2021

523 posts created (89%)

64 posts reblogged (11%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 692 tags in 2021

#messages - 188 posts

#asks - 82 posts

#anonymous - 79 posts

#discourse - 72 posts

#block tag - 67 posts

#mind games - 64 posts

#the outer worlds - 44 posts

#reblog - 38 posts

#mind games: obsession - 31 posts

#important - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#the outrageous views of some people on works of love and dedication being lesser to books gets me so fucking enraged

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

https://dashingdon.com/play/gatheringstarduststudios/mind-games-obsession-demo/mygame/ Rewrite of MGO chapters Prologue-Chapter 2 are LIVE!

54 notes • Posted 2021-01-06 17:26:09 GMT

#4

Hi, I myself was planning to post my wip on cog because choicescript was much easier for me to understand than twine but after reading about all the horrid stuff that's apparently been going on there I'm rethinking my decision and going back to twine. Do you know any tutorials for twine coding that are easy to understand?

If you wanna stop into the discord server we've made to help with Twine coding, there's a whole bunch of guides we've put up and things we've worked out together to far! You don't have to interact or anything, just be there to see things to help you learn, too!

I have a couple of links that may help, however:

(REMEMBER TO USE SUGARCUBE!)

See the full post

64 notes • Posted 2021-02-27 17:32:54 GMT

#3

I just went through the chooseyourstory thread and??? what the actual hell is wrong with those people???

they're incels 💀 who need some serious therapy. In case you folks aren't wanting to read the cys thread (im not anymore rly, they have like child's level insults, it's so boring), here's some more authors and big cog people to avoid as they use their icons and names both there AND on cog:

See the full post

71 notes • Posted 2021-02-18 18:07:20 GMT

#2

Mind Games: Trepidation

"For now, the Sleepers are the lucky ones; they don't know the rest of the world is joining them while the rest of us watch, useless."

"The Orchard's Centennial Celebration is incredibly important; it marks the beginning to our city, and it's a happy thing in the midst of all the shit going on."

Welcome to Mind Games: Trepidation, the first game in the interactive-fiction series Mind Games. The series will be a supernatural romance with horror, fantasy, and sci-fi elements, set in an alternative version of our world. There will be five-to-six books, and six romantic options.

As for the blurb:

Armington is a small city, with a population and size that still borders on being called a town. The peace is generally kept by one Sheriff Quinn and his trusty "independent detective"... otherwise known as you. You, an Alpha (a human with incredibly not-human abilities), someone who probably shouldn't be anywhere near law enforcement given your kind is outlawed with a kill-on-sight allowance by the government... but that's not your worst worries, not in the slightest.

Starting in your home city of Armington, a slow but steadily growing illness is spreading among the Supernaturals in your community, an illness that renders those infected into a comatose state. And, as it continues to steadily spread, it becomes less and less clear how you are supposed to "peacekeep" or even fix what's going on... so the Advocacy of Peace steps in to assist. The Advocacy, employed by the government to police the secret world of Supernaturals and more publicly "eliminate" the threat that Alphas pose as well as many other things, sends in one of its top teams to try to stamp out the illness before it spreads any further.

On top of all of this, from trying to run after an unknown cause to an unknown illness, balancing your normal work life with your private investigative one, and even playing nice with the Advocates sent in to help, there's still one more thing to contend with: The Centennial Celebration of the founding of the apple orchard that eventually grew from a road-side bar by the same name to the city in which it resides. Which, given the city was originally founded by Supernaturals, many will be flocking to Armington to celebrate. With so many things to balance, how will you handle the pressure that seems to have no end in sight?

~~~~~~~~~~

The new demo is out, up to Chapter 1!: https://dashingdon.com/play/bottlecaprabbitgames/mind-games-trepidation/mygame/

The Romantic Options and some features to expect will be under the cut:

Some features to expect:

- The ability to select pronouns, gender, and sexuality, including asexuality, which also won't lock out romances nor NSFW scenes.

- Multiple versions of NSFW scenes that reflect the above items.

- Six romance options, each with their own distinct problems, views, and secrets.

- Choices that will matter far past where you make them, AND your decisions will not be forgotten by those around you. That also means not everyone will agree with your decisions, no matter how close the two of you are.

- Most ROs can be romanced by anyone, only one RO has set genders they'll be romantically involved with

- A lot of customisations for your character, each of which will be listed on the stats page

- A few special stat pages, one includes dictionary entries for things MC knows but the player does not

- TBA

The Romance Options:

Freja Ellingboe: The Commanding Agent of her team, Freja can be brutally blunt and has little patience for those unable to focus on the task at hand during working hours. It doesn't help that even outside of work, she's rather reserved... probably doesn't help that she suffers from massive amounts of social anxiety. Despite this, she has nothing but warmth in her heart for her team and even their wrangler, even if she has a hard time showing it.

Gender: Cis woman

Sexuality: Demisexual

Race: Viila

Adontis: The second-in-command to Freja, Adontis is almost opposite to her in personality. He's rather amiable and smooth, and as such, handles the part of their job that requires a... diplomatic touch. However, it can be challenging to get to know him on a personal level, as he's well-versed in deflection tactics and doesn't deal well with the whole "getting to know you on a personal level" bits. He's also one of the oldest beings currently still in existence.

Gender: Cis man

Sexuality: Currently experiencing bisexuality

Race: Vampire (original virus)

Fawn: Fawn is... hard to describe. Cagey, edging on hostile, and reluctant to deal with people in every way possible. She's been betrayed far too many times, and after the third time she had to deal with the loss of everyone close to her, she's incredibly reluctant to trust anyone. She doesn't even go by her true name: Fawn was one she chose herself, to represent her forced new life after being thrown from her tribe for crimes she did unwillingly, and being on unsteady legs that had to strengthen quickly.

See the full post

159 notes • Posted 2021-07-01 09:26:19 GMT

#1

Ok, So as a straight cis woman and most importantly a Big fan of both your games. What you said about your games aimed at the LGBTQ community made me feel like a cast out and that I'm not taken into consideration. I would also like to mention that I understand the "cal scene" I mean even we get rejected YK. I would understand your point if you are only including ONLY LGBTQ content, characters and MC in your stories but the fact that in both games we can play as straight wouldn't that mean that it includes\aimed at us too. you have fans from every gender and sexuality, you don't have to "undervalue" a section I think as an author you should be more objective. You don't have to reply I just wanted to make a point and I still think that your games and storylines are cool and will continue playing as long as I don't feel discriminated or outcasted in the game.💞💖

Okay, I honestly couldn't tell if this was being serious or not and I don't say that to be mean or rude or anything like that, I'm just... I'm not really sure how to process everything going on in this... ask.

When I say "aimed at", I'm meaning "written with them in mind". I mean, c'mon, I'm a genderqueer person who has a general preference for women and other enbys with some vague interest in men, alongside being on the aroace spectrum. It's... it's really hard to not have the lgbt+ community in mind when I'm writing, madam.

Also the Cal scene thing I said was a joke, a lot of y'all in our inbox are also acting odd about it, I'm not sure why 💀

That's not at all true; there's plenty of CoGs/HGs that include LGBT+ options, but those games are not aimed at the community in any way; a game being aimed at a community will give more choices for that specific community especially if that community is as diverse as the LGBT+ one is.

Yes, I understand I have fans from many different backgrounds and I don't undervalue any fans at all, what I am saying is that while I do write to include cis straight persons, my games will generally be in mind for lgbt+ persons, from pronoun picking to gender to being ace, and having those things incorporated somehow in the game. I've been on my soapbox about some stuff on here before, like the gross misrepresentation of ace people in most games, and god dont get me started on the horrible shit I've seen said on the forums about people using they/them and the blatant phobias of most lgbt+ identities on there. Why shouldn't my community have a safe haven of writers who actually genuinely care about them and their representation when one of our biggest writers from the forums turned out to be so shitty a person? It's not fair, in any form or way, given that is not a worry for specifically the cis straight community (not talkin about my trans straight folks nor my cis gays).

Also, I don't write discrimination on sexuality nor gender, but please, as a cis straight woman, do not bring up discrimination to me. Cis straight people do not get gender nor sexuality discrimination; I have never, ever heard of someone being shunned by their family or being fired from their job, nor being made to feel like their lives matter less than those around them for being cis and straight. Most of my own family thinks my mom "didn't do her job" and they only know I prefer women, and Faye's family blame me for them being who they are and made sure I knew it, as well as telling Faye it's a phase or I'm "influencing" them. So, please. Really, really think before using the word "discrimination" when dealing with gender and sexuality.

Again, not trying to be rude or mean, but... what?

274 notes • Posted 2021-02-09 20:02:52 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

~

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

~

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

~

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

~

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