#side note: this is the most frequent I've ever posted here

[rio-ot]

We as a society moved on too quickly from this methinks

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal

Sleep like the Dead (Inherited): Nothing wakes you anymore. Leona is as "selfish" as they come, and has no regard for your schedule. He doesn't feel remorse for soaking up your time in the slightest. Why should he? Other people do it for 90% of the day. Take a load off, the bags under your eyes are unsightly. If he doesn't want to wake up in the morning? You ain't either. It's a done deal. If the building isn't up in flames then don't bother asking. Evidently, prolonged and frequent daytime siestas take their toll on your circadian rhythm. You now need just as - if not more - sleep than Leona. Napping out in public and at the rowdy Savanaclaw Dorm bestowed upon you a disturbance immunity. Ramshackle could be in the middle of a raid and you wouldn't move. Not unless something singed your skin or really did some damage. It's become an actual problem. Crewel is considering a sleep study.

"Oi, herbivore...stop squirming so much. You almost crushed my tail. Hah? Class? You don't need it. Just borrow notes from one of those little friends or make the cat go....fine. Gimmie your homework later. I can teach you a thing or two. That is, if you can handle it." <- Grim can't be trusted on his own? Not Leona's problem. You're half of a student. Half. Not full. Half. There's your loophole now go back to sleep. Yap any more and he'll roll on top of you. Good luck talking with a mouth full of hair.

Perfume (Developed): This comes about in an awkward manner. Beastmen have keen smell. It's a given. Bada bing, bada boom, Leona knows your scent. He could point out the Ramshackle Prefect from a half-mile radius. Now he's never said your scent is unpleasant. Quite the contrary, although the lion would never admit it. The issue here is that your scent acts as a calling card, and Leona is clingy. So you ask Vil for the most popular perfume, potion, cologne - whatever - and start wearing it to mask your scent. At least enough so Leona's de-buffed to a one-fourth mile radius. It doesn't work entirely. No perfume is that strong. It's also an active assault on Leona's nose...but it had to be done. Side note - this was his plan all along. He isn't keen on non-human folk sniffing you out easily. Beastmen, most Mermen, and even select Fae have keen noses. Not that his own scent isn't a deterrent, but some masking perfume is worth the occasional nose-shank if it keeps snickering busybodies off your tail when he isn't around.

"Here. Take this and throw out whatever crap it is you've got on. You want me to say it flat? You reek." <- Take the scent masking balm he's giving and don't shop retail ever again. His nose hairs are literally burning off. The balm costs more than your entire dorm to make, but Leona won't ever admit it. You have an ultimatum. It's either this, or wearing one of his old vests around Savanaclaw. Now unless you want to be twinning with him and Ruggie, do the man a favor and comply.

Hair Ties (Developed): Bless his genetics for that wonderful, silky mane - but he needs to tame it. With how smothering Leona can be, you end up with a mouthful of hair at least twice a day. Man is tall, and he loves using his prefect as a leaning post. Which is cute but he sheds. So your arm is perpetually wrapped with hair-ties 24/7 like a cased sausage, because every time you give him one it disappears. It's on purpose, of course. He also snaps them whenever you aren't paying attention. Spiteful bas-

Biting (Inherited): Biting is a common display of affection in beastfolk culture. Not that Leona ever bothered to tell you this. His little nips (in no small amount) were usually passed off as punishments for being annoying. A lie, naturally. One could say it’s the human equivalent of cute aggression? Yet it has more meaning since it’s reserved for close connections such as family and lover. Although drawing blood or leaving a mark behind is reserved for the latter. You had to learn all this from a textbook, of course. No one in Savanaclaw was going to butt into Leona’s affairs, and Ruggie found your ignorance a funny game to taunt his Housewarden with. You were on your own, on a quest to save your skin. Literally.

Regardless, it’s Leona’s way of affection. Bonus points since he can do it without you knowing why. It’s only natural that you return the favor, playing along whenever he has to hold composure. Acting as if you don’t know and relishing in his micro- reactions. It’s only a matter of time before he figures you out, but it’s so nice to have the upper hand for once.

"That's for showin' up late. Don't like it? Not my problem...yawn if is' so bad, just take my bandanna...Why do you care if it's got Savana colors? Ya spend enough time 'round here, no one's gonna say anything." <- If it really bothered you, he'd stop. King of consent and of reading body language. Otherwise it's a go-go. Also if someone did have a problem with you sporting Savanaclaw colors? He doesn't need to kick their ass. Beastfolk got better hearing than most, and if one of his overhears you getting shit for wearing their dorm's colors then the classic night raven pride will pop out.

Habits He Steals:

Vegetables (Inherited): Leona sticks to meat, cheese, bread, and more meat. Bring on the steak. Bring on the beef. Bring on the deluxe cutlet sandwiches. Savanaclaw's kitchen is the most costly of all the dorms purely for how much Beastmen eat. If Ruggie can guzzle down seven plates in a sitting yet still look like a stick? Imagine a Lion's appetite. No one knows how you managed to get this guy to eat a salad like a true herbivore, but it's a cold day in the Savanaclaw dormitory when Leona's facing down a spinach side-salad on top of his lunch. Meanwhile you're happily munching away at the table, picking random veggies off your own plate to put on his. Each instance accompanied by an agitated twitch of his tale, but the lion's eerily silent. Dire Crowley is right. The Ramshackle Prefect is a Beast Tamer indeed...

"Now I know you didn't just pick at my plate, herbivore. Your luck's running thin...Oi. That's enough. I'll sooner eat one of your limbs than another turnip" <- he, in fact, did eat the turnip. The threat scared his underclassmen so much, that seeing you come around still in one piece the next day earned you a warrior's respect.

Correspondence (Developed): Leona's used to getting a sea of letters from ministers, attendants, and a particular little menace back at the palace. Unless it was an urgent message - he'd let the letters go unchecked after skimming them. Replying always took too much effort, and he'd rather not encourage unexpected visits like during the annual Magiift tournament. That is until you start receiving them as well. Nowhere near the amount Leona deals with - but he'd rather die than have his family telling you things without the ability to intercept. Falena blackmails him into responding to Cheka's letters, or else the little furball is going to use you as a penpal for writing practice. Side Note 2.0 - regardless of Leona's 'cooperative' ways, you still write to the mini lion in 'secret'. He knows but gave up caring.

"Another one? Just toss the damn thing. No - hmph. Give me that. I'll respond, just don't start up the lecture." <- You always manage to find the letters Cheka sends over before Leona can get to them. It clicks that you're a middle-man once they start showing up at Ramshackle instead of his dorm. Leona can't wait too long to respond, otherwise you'll start harping him over how cute the kid's handwriting is or whatever picture he drew. He lets you keep them. Cheka's got his own exhibit on the Ramshackle fridge.

Accommodating (Developed): Leona’s not necessarily a ‘verbal’ communicator, despite his smart mouth that always manages to get the last word. He will not openly lend his aid without a bit of pressing before hand - his pride would never allow it. Take the three days you and Grim stayed in his dorm as an example. Inevitably you earned the right to crash in his room, but there was a roundabout to get there. Mainly for show, since in Savanaclaw things are earned not given. You also weren’t close back then. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone, even if they’re from a different dorm or stranded homeless by some octopunks.

The tides change for you, and only for you. His morals are held high, and his ability to treat a partner well is no exception. There is no glory in being above your supposed equal. Everything is shared. This means Leona’s room is now your room, just as Ramshackle is now partly his. He’s clearing some of his closet out, filling it with your stuff, and doing the same back at your place. Doesn’t even ask and doesn’t give a damn that there are dozens of open rooms. It’s the principle. Sharing a space is letting someone see your most vulnerable being. Not that he’d think you could ever do any significant damage (lies) - but considering he doesn’t want anyone within a five foot radius during his leisure time, Leona giving you open access speaks volumes.

"Hah? So what? It's not like I'm forcin' them into it. Got a problem with how I act? Enlighten me." == Talk about nonchalont. Leona is well aware of the imprint he's left on you. He sees it in the way you talk. The way you think. Not just in the chess matches he makes you sit through over and over. Round after round until you can put him into check. You're confident. You're demanding. You're ripe potential that he got to first before anyone else. You chose him, and no amount of backtalk on your end outshines that you like him enough to mimic his ways. The Ramshackle Prefect’s presence isn't something people can overlook anymore, and Leona is damn proud that he's left a mark.

Habits You Steal:

Extreme Couponing/Haggling (Inherited): If you do not think Ruggie spends his Sunday mornings going through sales ads? You are sorely mistaken. This man is an absolute menace when it comes to hitting the market and squeezing a shop-keep for everything they are worth. Sam fears no creature in all of Twisted Wonderland aside from this particular hyena. Screw fighting blot - grab some popcorn and kick back to observe the game of verbal chess those two engage in every week. It's more entertaining than any battle or show. You will become Ruggie's apprentice. Ain't no partner of his going through life without the ability to haggle. Sam stands no chance.

“Ya get this week’s ad? Good. C’mon over and we’ll get the clippings going. I think I saw somethin’ about a buy-one get-two on those candies ya like. Maybe if your nice enough, I’ll shmooze Sam for a bonus!” <- Ruggie honestly enjoys having a coupon buddy. He makes a show about how you take too long, and that if you don’t wake up early then he won’t stick around! Can’t miss the sale, so he isn’t lying there. Except he does grab what you need on the off chance you do miss the meetup. Side note - he doesn’t just take an apprentice without ulterior motives. This is all in preparation for you to handle the slum markets. If you can’t fight off a few broke students, then you won’t last a day back home.

"Shishishishi" (Inherited): There is no escaping it. For the countless times you've poked fun at his little wheezy laugh - imagine the utter mortification when it came not from him! No no. From you. It's unconscious and in the moment you don't recognize anything wrong. You were only laughing over a won victory against Sam. That new lamp you wanted for your work-desk finally within reach, and 70% off no less! Said conman looks at you with eyes blown wide, because great seven there are two of them now. It takes a moment for self-awareness to hit, but you're too late. Two fuzzy-satellites atop a mop of shaggy blonde curls perk up, and your laugh from before echoes from the original culprit's mouth.

“I heard that! You’re doin’ it wrong. Gotta put more air, Shishishi~” <- Ruggie’s a taunting little turd on a good day. Be prepared. You won’t be living this down. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Next thing is to train ya in the art of sticky fingers - no? Ugh. Fine. Ya Goodie-Goodie.

Hands Up! (Inherited): Ruggie has a very unique way of standing. Hands behind his head, laced together to support his neck. One hip normally supports most of his weight, and he's always in a deep-slouch. Bro doesn’t need to cast ‘Laugh With Me’ for his movements to be mirrored, because you’re already following along without realizing. Leona finds the mimicry unsettling. Take that freaky shit out of his line of sight.

Habits He Steals:

Sharing Food (Developed): This is the inner hyena coming out. Just like in the slums, it's demanded to share amongst your own. He might be a sleaze to other people, but not to you. This also backfires into Ruggie thinking that what's yours is his as well - but that's not the point. He'll plop down next to you at dinner and wordlessly offer up half of his meal. You need more meat on those bones, he'll say if protested. In turn he'll then take half of your dessert. It's a sign of trust, instinctively believing that whatever's on your plate is safe to eat. Yet also shows that he's taken you as one of his - and that's a privilege no one at NRC has. No strings attached because everything you both have is shared. On a side note, you'll never be-rid of Ruggie once this comes to pass.

Shared Wardrobe (Developed): Again with the collective treasure hoard, but with a twist. Ruggie can essentially squeeze into most clothing or modify them to his needs. If it works, then it works. So he'll happily offer up any modified dregs he has for your usage, and in turn he will claim whatever clothes you aren't overly attached to. There is also the matter of scent, of course. Ruggie is the type of person to cut up one of your old pajama shirts and fashion arm-bands, making sure to have one knotted around his bicep at all times. You in turn are welcome to swipe his bandanna at your leisure in place of that tacky uniform tie.

“Hey…you seen my blaz - hah? Uh, nevermind. I’ll go grab somethin’ else. Where’d ya leave the heavier coat Gran sent over. Forget it, I’ll just go check myself” <- The first time you snag one of his oversized blazers or hoodies gets him. It gets him bad. Sharing with Leona was one thing but, c'mon. Warn a guy would ya? You're so lucky he's an opportunist on quick feet, so of course he’ll take the chance to steal something you wear often. Ruggie’s great at brushing off any taunts or quips. Being Leona’s right hand gets him stable back at Savanclaw, but that doesn’t take away years of being the underdog. Whether the other beastfolk stare at him openly brandishing your clothes means little, if anything, he enjoys it. Cause once again the underdog’s got a top prize.

Caffeine Addiction (Inherited): Ruggie spends more time and effort running around than most. His *hobby* is doing part-time work. Those overpriced sugar-loaded drinks never appealed to him because why waste money when powering through is just as effective? Or chugging some ice water? Yet you seemingly always have some sort of caffeine to make it through the hell NRC dishes out, and Ruggie being a mooch is always there to steal at least 1/3 of it. Now he’s trained and gets extremely sluggish around mid-day without a dose. It’s your fault if he falls off his broom during spelldrive practice.

"Wha'cha trying to say with that tone, huh? Think I'm not good enough? 's that it? There're way worse chumps to take after. Way I see it? They're learnin' how to make it in this world, sha ha ah! So thanks!...eh, why're you still here? Shoo already." == Considering rumors never have anything good to say about Ruggie's attitude, he's not dumb enough to take the little 'compliment' as genuine. More like as a backhanded sight towards your relationship. Rugs could care less about what those nobodies have to say. Not like they've got anything he's after, just some busybodies that scurry off with their tail between their legs when things get rough. Even if you catch word of it, Ruggie ain't going to get pissy because they're right. Everything they're saying is right, he is rubbing off on you. He is actively trying to. Life isn't a peach and it's not like he's strong enough to protect you from the hardships. It'll be a big laugh if you pull that righteous crap and try to defend his honor, though. Someone better get it on camera.

Habits You Steal:

Paternal Disappointment (Inherited): There was a time, a simpler time, a Jack-less time...when you were a fool. No. You are one to this day, but it is better tamed under Jack's strict aura of perpetual disappointment. Once on the side of being scolded with Ace and Deuce, you are now the one doing the scolding. You are not fun anymore. There is a stick shoved so far up your ass, and it's now part of your internal organ system. Ace dubs you a traitor, as does Grim. You've gone to the dark side in exchange for the morally sound wolfboy to offer cuddles and the occasional snack. I'm sorry to tell you this dear prefect but you've become....*gasp* the (mom/dad) friend.

“Boring? Who said you were boring?…don’t listen to those jerks. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. They’re just upset that they can’t get away with murder anymore - Uh, not t-that I was jealous or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! . Hmph.” <- Jack doesn’t take offense when others call him names, but he doesn’t like when you’re brought into it. At all. Especially because he used to be jealous how you, Ace, Grim and Deuce were more tight-knit than with any of the other first years. Like a pack. That behavior is childish, and Jack hates that he used to think that way. As if your attention was something he had to fight over. It's not like he wanted the same bond you shared with those three either, that's friendship and he wanted more. By being with you, Jack knew that it was going to put him on a different tier than the others. That's just what happens. Part of him feels guilty that you might be losing face because of him. His reputation isn’t bad, but he does have a resting angry face. Reassure him in turn and Jack will be over the moon. Any happier and his wagging tail can become a makeshift duster for the dorm (Were he on earth, he’d definitely get the nickname ‘tails’. After the sonic character, just to clarify)

Meal Prep (Inherited): This is actually an amazing influence and is wonderful for someone on a tight-schedule. You're not going to be eating high-protein meals every night, neither wasting away in an attempt to chug down pre-workout shakes. That's on Jack and Jack alone. Helping him prep meals is a nice touch and a pleasant evening spent together once a week. You don't become strict with it, but Jack does convince you to at least prepare some of your favorite dishes as snacks/emergency meals. He also constantly shoves energy water and vitamins in your bag. No more cup-noodle or scrap sandwiches on those nights you don't reach the mess hall on time. Now you have balanced meals, and get to flaunt matching containers with your boyfriend. Very cute. Everyone hates both of you.

"Uh...are all those stickers really necessary? I know we agreed on matching boxes but this is a bit...No! I'm not embarrassed! Gah, just keep it to a minimum. Nothing that falls off or sparkles." <- He is flustered beyond compare after every track meet. At first he barely bat an eye, thinking nothing of the orange bento box with chibi-cactus stickers and his name written in bold bubble lettering on top. You decorated it just for him, and if it meant you would carry around a spare meal then that's even more incentive. Yet the smell of fresh food attracts jocks after a meet like nothing else, and the teasing was relentless. It isn't enough to stop him from enjoying his meal, though.

Lint Roller (Developed): Leona sheds, but Jack? He is like owning six full-grown huskies. He apologizes profusely for the shedding, especially since the NRC uniforms are black. You run through lint rollers like Deuce runs through eggs. It isn't Jack's fault, but man. Ramshackle collects both dust and fur bunnies these days.

Habits He Steals:

Piggy-Back(Developed):Jack carries you everywhere. He's normally very patient but when there's a place to be? Well, he wants to get there on time. Jack has a strict bedtime at 10:00pm sharp and so his free hours are scarce. Do you want enough time to enjoy the lakeside as planned? If so, hop on his back so no time is wasted. Jack also pressures you to join him for morning and evening jogs. He refuses to give up his diligence, but also is acutely aware that there is little spare time he can afford you during the week. Either you have to keep up with him, or you're getting used as a makeshift weight and being hauled across campus. Relationships need quality time to grow and this is the perfect excuse to hog your attention for two hours every day. Not that he'd admit it, but the swish of his tail while you chat is enough to tell Jack's enjoying his runs much more than before.

"Are you comfortable? Just let me know if I'm going too quick. I'll try not to jostle you around too much...if you're tired then take a nap. I'll wake you when we're back home." <- He'd prefer if you didn't sleep. It messes with your circadian rhythm, but the whole point of this is to help you relax. Just knowing you're with him is enough to make Jack happy. Rain or shine, no excuses. If it's cold he'll let you use his hair to block out the chill, although he'd never let you out in anything less than the proper gear. Even if he joins Deuce or Vil on occasion - you're his favorite running partner.

Safety (Developed): Jack asks you to text him twice a day. Once in-between class, even though you’ll be spending lunch together, and once before bed at 9:30pm. The morning isn’t needed since he’s your alarm clock. He understands that as a prefect, you don’t have a curfew like the majority of students. Yet he is communicative with concerns about you being outside of Ramshackle late after dark. Even when you were just friends, hearing the story of when A-Deuce hauled you to that abandoned mine in the middle of the night? The blot monster and how close it came to you guys not making it? Magic or not, that would worry anyone with common sense. It doesn’t help that Ramshackle has no security beyond its resident ghosts.

"- and you just went with them? Because the headmaster told you to? Are you insane!?...No. You're right. What's done is done. Just...call me if something like that ever happens again." <- Thank the seven Jack's hair is already white.

Jack never thought he’d care this much about anyone. When your partner is a walking heart-attack, in the best way possible mind you, one just wants some piece of mind.

Covering Ears (Inherited): It's a natural response to cover your ears when frightened. Like when watching a scary movie and you don't want to hear what comes next. Jack covers his ears because they're sensitive, and loud noises can cause a migraine quicker than anything else. Especially when they're sudden. His hearing is more sensitive than most, being a wolf beastman. It's almost on par with Leona's. Yet his first instinct when there is a loud noise is to cover your ears instead of his. Even though you're human, the instinct to protect them takes over. It's also his way of being within arm's reach in case of a threat. You must be scared being in a new place. Jack will never let himself forget that. Nor how brave you are for continuing on regardless.

"What a relief...huh? Nah, I didn't say anything. Isn't there a test coming up in Alchemy next week? Want to hit the books together?" == The type to divert the topic as quick as possible, on the chance that he lets too much slip. Needless to say that Jack is relieved to hear that you're mimicking him on an unconscious level. It means that you trust him. That you respect him and see him as an equal. It's the biggest compliment Jack can ever ask for. If people are automatically associating you together, then it means he's done his job. You're part of his pack - and outsiders can recognize it at first glance. He'll do a good job at hiding how happy it made him, but expect that tail to wag at torpedo speed the next time he sees you.

[hivemuthur]

A Deer and a Man - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit)

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family’s wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author’s note: This fic has some special hold on me, it made me sit down by the piano this week. Also, I've committed a playlist, you can check it out on Spotify. Super thanks as usual to @mithrava for consulting on regency historical accuracy and to @rennethen who beta reads!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You hate to admit it, but you do anticipate. The last time you had awaited something with such feeling was when your mother departed to tend to your ailing aunt—or rather, to command her staff when she could no longer do so—and you and your sisters had run barefoot through the house, singing The Unfortunate Rake at the top of your lungs, much to your father’s amusement.

Now, dressed and polished from head to toe by your ever-diligent Peggy—though not without a spirited debate regarding the appropriate amount of rouge upon your cheeks—you allow yourself to drift into thought, chin propped upon your hand as you gaze wistfully at the passing landscape through the carriage window.

"Why do you look as though you are being led to the gallows?" comes the voice of your sister—the middle one. You glance up to find her brows lifted almost to her hairline and your mother wearing a look of mild reproach. "Should you not be overjoyed?"

"I am quite overjoyed, Kitty, but I thank you for your concern," you reply flatly, rolling your eyes.

Kitty is, in every way, the daughter your mother wishes you to be. Her sole ambition in life is to marry well and raise a brood of children. You find it all terribly dull, though you suspect something within her will change when she encounters her first true disappointment.

Tess, the youngest, is far more like you. She has never betrayed your confidences to Mother. She sneaks you sweetmeats from the kitchen at bedtime, insists you look lovelier with your hair unpinned, and entrusts you with her dearest secrets, knowing they are safe in your keeping. It is for this very reason that she remained behind today, occupied with the practice of her calligraphy under her lady’s maid’s supervision.

"It would not pain you to smile, my dear," your mother remarks, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. A deception, you suspect.

Nevertheless, you indulge her. You summon your most winsome smile and compose yourself in your seat, all the while wondering—anticipating—what it is that Viktor wishes to say to you in private.

When the carriage draws to a halt, he is already there. Viktor stands waiting with his weight shifted to one side, the tip of his cane pressed lightly against the ground. The early afternoon light casts a warm glow over him, accentuating the deep brown of his coat—a fine, if somewhat modest piece, its cut more practical than fashionable. A dark waistcoat lies beneath, fitted neatly over his frame, with a cravat tied in a manner that suggests efficiency rather than vanity. His hair resists perfect order, a few loose strands falling across his forehead despite his apparent effort to tame them.

There is something almost careless about his appearance, yet not in a way that suggests a lack of pride. Rather, it is as if he simply does not concern himself with the rigid expectations of refinement. His gloves are well-worn, the leather of his cane handle bears the mark of frequent use, and yet—despite all this—he cuts a striking figure. Perhaps it is the way he carries himself, or the sharp focus of his gaze as he watches your approach. Handsome, undeniably so, but with a presence that unsettles as much as it intrigues.

And you find yourself grateful for the abhorrent amount of blush Peggy has pressed into your cheeks—at least you can blame the warmth rising there on that. Even more so when he grants you a fleeting glance and smiles to himself before turning to your mother.

“My Lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,” he says, bowing his head with practiced grace.

She responds with a measured nod, her expression unreadable. “Mister Viktor.”

Next, he turns to Kitty, who is already smiling prettily, her hands clasped before her. “Miss Catherine,” he greets, offering a slight bow.

Kitty dips into a shallow curtsey, her tone light. “Mister Viktor, I trust you are well?”

“As well as one can be, Miss,” he replies smoothly before his gaze finally lands on you. It is fleeting—just a moment longer than propriety demands—yet enough to send a thrill through you.

“Miss,” he murmurs at last, bowing once more.

You respond with a curtsy, keeping your chin high despite the quickened beat of your pulse. Acutely aware of how desperately the two halves of you claw at each other within your chest you clench your jaw and force yourself to blink.

Your mother clears her throat. “Shall we proceed?”

Viktor is silent for a moment, his gaze flickers between you and the path ahead, considering something. Then, with measured care, he speaks. “Ladies, might I request a moment alone with my future wife? I should like the opportunity to better acquaint myself with her.”

Your mother’s expression does not shift at once. Instead, she regards him with a pensive air, weighing the request. Then, just as swiftly, her features settle into the familiar, practiced smile of social grace.

“I see no objection, sir.” She turns to you, levelling you with an unreadable look. “I trust you will conduct yourself with decorum.”

You incline your head. “Of course, Maman.”

Viktor nods in gratitude before turning his attention back to you. With an ease that seems entirely natural to him—but utterly foreign to you—he extends his arm. You hesitate only for a heartbeat before slipping your hand through, the warmth of his sleeve pressing against your palm.

At once, your mind replays the moment in the music room—the ghost of his touch at your forearms as he steadied you when you stumbled. The surprise of it. The quiet strength in his grasp. The way you had looked at one another for a long time before pulling away.

Now, as your fingers rest against his sleeve, you are keenly aware of the space between you, and the fact that—however slight—he has just closed it once more.

You march forward leisurely and even though you can’t see your mother and sister trotting behind you, you wait for a long moment before coming up with something to say. You wait for so long, in fact, that Viktor beats you to it.

“How have you been?” he asks softly, your name following the question with an intimacy that startles you.

Your fingers twitch against the fabric of your glove, and you glance at him sidelong. “Well enough,” you reply, though your voice is not as steady as you wish it to be.

“Any new rebellious music you have come across?”

“Ah, that,” you chuckle, though you scowl inwardly at how flustered the sound is. “Sadly, I have had no opportunity to evade my mother’s hound-like hearing abilities. So, only little dancing tunes for my sisters—nothing of true note.”

“A pity,” he muses. “I quite enjoyed the Sonata.” His tone is contemplative, but there is in intention hidden not that too well underneath it. “And yet,” he continues after a beat, “it is for that very reason I asked to meet you.”

You arch a brow, affecting nonchalance despite the way your heartbeat betrays you. “Oh? Are you also a great admirer of music deemed unsuitable for proper ladies?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, the humour in his tone fleeting. “But I do have another, more pressing motive—if you do not mind me speaking plainly.”

“By all means,” you say, tilting your head towards him. “Do tell, Viktor.”

He gestures with his cane, the subtle drawing your attention to the promenade before you. Couples walk in neat little pairs, each shadowed by their requisite chaperone, the ritual of courtship unfolding before you like a well-rehearsed performance.

“The endless hunt,” he murmurs. “Men trailing after their prey under the pretence of romance.”

You huff a small laugh. “Why do you presume it is only men who do the hunting? Perhaps you are the deer, and simply unaware of it.”

Viktor glances at you then, his lips curving in an intrigued smile. “An interesting proposition.” His gaze lingers, thoughtful, before flickering back ahead. “I am, however, quite aware that this—” he inclines his head towards the scene before you—“is not the future I would have chosen for myself.”

His fingers tighten briefly on the handle of his cane. “Which is why I come to you with an offer of compromise.”

Your brows lift. “A compromise?”

“A contract,” he corrects. “Between us, and no one else.”

Your stomach tightens, though with what, you are uncertain. “And what, pray, would this contract entail?”

“Freedom,” he answers simply. “As much as may be found within the gilded cage we are about to share—for better or for worse.”

You glance up at him, studying the sharp lines of his profile, but say nothing.

Viktor exhales through his nose, as if steeling himself. “I would not ask you to be anything other than what you are. You may conduct yourself as you wish—the clothes you wear, the music you play, the company you keep…” He pauses, and you feel, rather than see, his eyes on you. “So long as I am afforded the same courtesy.”

A curious sensation unfurls within you, slow and uncertain. A flutter—a fervour, almost—on one hand. Yet on the other, something sinks deep and remains suspended in an inertia for which you cannot place the cause.

Your fingers, still lightly curled around his arm, shift almost imperceptibly, your gloved fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his wrist where his cuff has shifted ever so slightly.

Viktor stills.

His step does not falter, nor does he pull away, but for the smallest fraction of a moment, you feel it—a sharp, fleeting pause, as though you have startled him.

You tilt your chin slightly, affecting an air of curiosity. “And why,” you murmur, voice quieter now, “would you offer such a thing to me?”

He hums, the sound low. “You play your part very well,” he admits. “Colour me impressed. But I see that you are not wholly content, and I do not wish to make you miserable.”

His eyes flick once more to the couples ahead, his expression unreadable. “This,” he says, his voice measured, “has never been my desire. And I suspect it has never been yours.”

“You did not jest about speaking plainly,” you remark, though there is a note of something in your voice—something faintly wistful coming from an unknown place you are not certain you wish to explore.

You suppose you ought to be offended—particularly by such a frank allowance for debauchery (and the expectation of reciprocation on his part). Yet what strikes you most is not the proposition itself, but rather his own unwillingness to partake in this experiment, despite claiming the title of a man of science.

He turns to you at once, his brow drawing together. “Forgive me. Have I offended? That was not my intent.”

You shake your head, exhaling softly before tilting your gaze up at him. Unable to give him the answer just yet. Unable to lock that part away. “Which one are you?” you ask, fixing your gaze on promenading couples.

Viktor only looks at you, his head tilts slightly in your direction and you can feel his breath ghosting around your temple.

“A deer,” you continue, “or a man?”

His lips curve, though his expression remains thoughtful. “A man, undoubtedly,” he says. “But my deer is not a woman to be conquered, nor wealth to be obtained. Progress only—science.”

You consider that for a moment before asking, “And which one do you think I am?”

Viktor studies you then, a searching sort of scrutiny in his gaze. “I think,” he begins, then pauses, as if weighing his words. “A man, as well. You simply do not yet know what it is you are hunting.”

You swallow and let your face display honesty for a flicker of a second. A tremendous feeling of being watched and seen by someone who barely knows you makes you both grow and shrink—one part of you laps at it, eager and hungry, the other, shy and defeated, steps back cradling her heart in her hands.

A pause, then—

“I accept your offer, Viktor.”

***

Days pass as you mull over the new terms of your arrangement, the weight of it settling upon you like an ill-fitted gown. The household is abuzz with the nonsensical pressures of wedding preparations—your mother and sisters significantly more enthused than you.

You find yourself torn between the promise of freedom and the threat of imprisonment, for what Viktor has proposed holds both in equal measure—a double-edged sword poised to cut you both.

Each of his conditions is something you never dared to dream of, having long resigned yourself to the certainty that you would never marry, certainly not for love. That naïve conviction held firm until your mother—ever pragmatic—brought you back to earth. In time, you had learned to accept your fate, to dream, however cautiously, of a husband who might tolerate your eccentricities, just as your father does. And perhaps, if fortune were kind, one who might even grow to love you, as your father so clearly loves your mother.

But with Viktor’s proposition, such hopes dwindle by the day. The reality that awaits you is one in which you must learn to be content with the love you can provide for yourself.

He comes and goes, paying you little visits, bringing flowers for your mother and, on occasion, Jayce for your father. And once, Jayce brings his mother, and the meeting nearly rends you in two—to witness what mothers can be. How gentle they can be, how kind. Even to a child not their own. Ximena Talis holds only love for Viktor in her heart; it seeps through her eyes, through the tenderness of her hands when she pats his back and smooths his cheek, telling him how proud she is.

A fraction of this kindness reaches you when she takes your hand and tells you what a good boy he is. How sensitive and clever. And it wounds you deeply to see how enraptured she is by the idea of Viktor finding someone who will love him as she and Jayce do—blissfully unaware of the pusillanimous little mercy he has devised to ensure the success of your sham.

Yet you do find excitement, somewhere within you. At the thought of the music you will play freely, at the great fire you will make to burn the tighter half of your short stays (you must keep some for when your mother visits), at the hairpins that will go conveniently missing on the way to your new house, and the books you will read lying in the grass. It is not all so miserable.

It comes and fades, just as Viktor drifts in and out of your thoughts, lingering in the late evening hours when your night-bound self cannot cease conjuring visions of what your life will be in mere days. After many nights spent ruminating, you resolve at last that such sentiments are not worth troubling your heart over. You must stand by your acceptance of Viktor’s offer.

So you endure the dress fittings, the flower selections, and the cake tastings that your mother drags you to, a sad smile fixed upon your face, telling yourself it will all be over soon. And indeed, when the day of your imprisonment— which is also the day of your release—arrives, you find the skin of your face intolerably tight with powder and a smile affixed there, despite the wetness lingering beneath your eyelids.

You regard yourself in the mirror, refusing to let nerves take hold of you. It is only last-minute jitters, you tell yourself, even as the ultimate version of your daylight self stares back—her hands clasped into fists, her hair arranged into the most meticulous bun you have ever seen, her breasts bound by the most vile short stay you have ever had the misfortune to wear. All of it wrapped in a blue dress, a fabric of your choosing—the only compromise your mother allowed in the preparations.

Your mother has left the room to inform your father that you will soon depart for the church, while your sisters flit about you, giggling and teasing about how you will step before the altar a child and leave a woman grown. The words tighten your chest, and you wave them off with a sharp breath.

"Please, it is hard enough to breathe without all of you crowding me."

"Are you going to bring shame upon Maman now? See, Tess? We should have placed our wager while there was still time," Kitty jests, but you find no laughter within you. Tess only frowns, visibly troubled, as a child might be when confronted with emotions beyond her understanding—or perhaps because she understands them all too well.

"I will fetch Maman," she says, watching the colour drain from your face despite the rouge upon your cheeks.

"No—" you snap, grasping her shoulder firmly. "I need Peggy. Tess, I beg of you."

Tess nods solemnly, throwing Kitty a warning look as severe as a seven-year-old can muster. Kitty huffs but follows her out, leaving you alone with your trembling hands and a heart that pounds so furiously it makes your chest feel even tighter. Before you can give in to the swooning sensation creeping up your spine, the door creaks open once more, and Peggy peeks inside, brow furrowed in concern.

"Everything all right, Miss?"

"No. Peggy, no," you cry, barely managing to keep your voice from breaking. Your eyes burn, but you force them wide, desperate to keep the tears from spilling and ruining the painstaking work of rouge and powder. "Why do I feel so wretched? It is as though something inside me has died."

Peggy steps further in, hands hovering uncertainly at her sides. "Oh, Miss, whatever has happened?"

You shake your head, pressing your fingers to your temples as if you might will away the frantic mess of thoughts swarming inside it. "I am such a fool. I was so certain I could go through with this, and I know there is no undoing it, but—" A shuddering breath, a helpless glance at your reflection. "I was ready to simply be a wife, to accept my place, but then he came along, and I, like a simpleton, began to hope. I let myself want."

Peggy's face softens, though hesitation lingers in her posture. "Oh, my dear child… but you shall be a wife, and I daresay you shall be happy."

You let out a brittle laugh, one that holds no mirth. "I shall not. I shall not be loved, nor truly known. I shall live in a grand house beside a husband who has no wish to understand me. I shall grow old in loneliness, without affection, without companionship."

Peggy presses her lips together, as if choosing her words with great care. "And how, pray, can you be so certain?"

You inhale sharply, fingers curling into the folds of your skirts. "Because he told me so. He offered me terms, a bargain. I—foolishly proud—accepted." The confession tumbles from your lips in a rush, bitter and breathless. "A life in which I may do as I please, so long as he is granted the same. No expectations, no obligations. Not in our conduct, nor our company, nor even the way we dress. And you—" Your voice falters, the words lodging in your throat. "You will not even be there to comfort me."

For a moment, Peggy says nothing, only watching you with an unreadable expression. Then, gently, she reaches for your hands, pressing them between her own. When she speaks again, it is not with formality, but with quiet insistence. She speaks your name.

"He would be a fool not to see you for what you are. And trust me when I say this—" She squeezes your hands, warmth and certainty in her grasp. "To fall in love with you takes mere seconds."

"It has already been seconds since we met," you mutter helplessly, sniffing as your brows furrow.

"People make strange decisions when they are afraid," she says with a soft, knowing smile. "And in my experience, men are the easiest creatures to spook."

A tear escapes the prison of your lashes, and before Peggy can react, you startle her with an embrace. She hesitates for only a moment before wrapping her arms around you, and you cannot remember the last time you were held with such tenderness.

Then, with gentle hands, she tilts your chin up and says, "Come now, let us put you back to rights before your lady mother starts to sulk, hmm?"

Peggy sets to work with quiet efficiency, dabbing away stray tears with the gentlest touch, mindful not to smudge the careful artistry upon your face. She smooths her thumbs over your cheeks, fixing the powdered rouge, then reaches for a fresh handkerchief to blot any lingering dampness. With delicate hands, she adjusts the loosened strands of your hair, tucking them back into place with a precision that belies her station. The soft murmurs of reassurance she offers are meant to soothe, yet they do little to quell the tight knot in your chest. You watch her through the mirror, unblinking, as she works—fast, methodical—restoring you to the poised young lady your mother expects to see walk down the aisle. When she finally steps back, her eyes sweep over you with a quiet sort of pride, as if she has mended something far greater than a few ruined curls and a streak of moisture on your cheek.

The remainder of the time slips past in a haze, your body moving through each step as though it belongs to someone else. Your sisters return, chattering brightly, their excitement so stark against the hush in your own mind that it feels almost deafening. Your mother arrives moments later, beaming, and claps her hands together at the sight of you, exclaiming over your appearance without noticing the effort it took to make you look so flawless. You offer her a small, obedient smile, a perfect replica of the one you have worn for weeks now and allow yourself to be ushered out the door. The carriage ride is a blur of voices and silk rustling around you, the weight of expectation pressing against your skin like the stay laced too tightly around your ribs. By the time you arrive at the church, you are exactly as you ought to be—composed, lovely, and utterly unreadable.

The heavy church doors are pulled open before you, and a hush falls over the gathered assembly. The murmur of conversation, the rustle of clothing, even the faintest shifting of feet upon stone—everything stills as you step into the dim, vaulted space. The scent of aged wood and melting wax mingles with the perfume of fresh flowers lining the pews, a sickly-sweet contrast to the sharp awareness tightening your chest.

Light filters through the tall, stained-glass windows, dappling the aisle in shifting colours as you take your first step forward. Your father’s arm is steady beneath your fingertips, a firm anchor, but it does little to ease the weight pressing against your ribs. Your gaze lifts, drawn forward, past the unfamiliar sea of faces, past the faint blur of expectation, to the one person who matters in this moment.

Viktor stands at the altar, rigid as a statue, his hands clasped before him. He is dressed finely—your mother’s doing, no doubt—but the cut of his coat, the carefully pressed folds of his cravat, feel like a costume rather than something truly belonging to him. His face is unreadable at first, his expression schooled into an impassive mask, but then—then his eyes meet yours.

Something flickers there. A hesitation, barely perceptible. The faintest parting of his lips, as if he might speak if the weight of the room did not demand silence. His gaze drags over you, slow and searching, taking in the meticulous artistry of your appearance, the delicate lace framing your face, the blue silk wrapped about you like a second skin. You expect nothing from him, and yet—his fingers twitch at his side, as if resisting some impulse even he does not understand.

And then, just as quickly, it is gone. He schools his features once more, his posture remains stiff, and whatever moment had passed between you vanishes into the hush of the church.

The priest turns to Viktor first.

“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

A silence, brief yet all-encompassing, stretches across the nave. Viktor’s gaze remains steady, locked upon yours as he answers, his voice even, assured and the words strike you with reverence you did not suspect him to have.

“I will.”

A breath catches in your throat.

“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” The priest turns to you.

You part your lips, but for a moment, no sound emerges. It is not hesitation, not truly—it is the finality of it, the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down upon your ribcage. You feel Viktor’s gaze on you, unwavering and waiting.

Your fingers tighten at your sides, nails digging into your palm.

“I will.”

The words leave you quieter than intended, but they are spoken. A shift of movement behind you—a sigh, perhaps your mother’s—reaches your ears, but it is distant, inconsequential now.

The priest nods, satisfied, and gestures for your hand.

Viktor steps forward, extending his hand to you, palm open. Your fingers feel unsteady as you place them in his, the warmth of his skin seeping through your glove into the coldness of your skin. He holds your hand with gentle firmness, neither possessive nor hesitant—simply assured.

He speaks first, his voice steady, the words carried by the hush of the chapel.

“I, Viktor, take thee to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a fleeting motion, barely noticeable.

It is your turn. You inhale, the breath unsteady, and repeat the vow, your voice carrying a note of quiet conviction.

“I,” you start, then speak your name quietly, “take thee, Viktor, to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

As the final words leave your lips, Viktor’s grip remains unwavering and warm. The rector nods and Jayce steps forward, placing a golden band into Viktor’s open palm, while his eyes remain fixed strictly on yours.

He slides it onto your finger slowly, its weight featherlight and yet impossibly heavy. There is finality in it, a truth that cannot be undone, and when you lift your gaze, Viktor is still watching you, his lids hooded. His mouth parts, and he speaks the finals words softly, almost intimately and for a moment you feel like it’s only you and him, holding hands in this vast, echoing space.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship,” he recites between breaths, the honesty beneath it rips through your chest. You wonder if it’s at all possible for this man to be so rehearsed that he can proclaim his worship to you in such a tone, while feeling none of it. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Before you can breathe, the priest proclaims, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

And so it is, final and done, when your heart hammers in your ears as you sign yet another contract—the Register—to bind you not only in the holy matrimony, but also in the legal one. The rest is a blur, as people outside the church whistle and clap upon your emergence and the carriage takes you all back to your house for the reception.

And you brace through it as your day self—bright, charming, and polite. Thanking your guests and being the picture-perfect bride, making your mother and father proud. You smile until your cheeks ache, laugh when it is expected, and accept well-wishes with a gracious nod.

Ximena Talis is among the many to take your hands in hers, her warmth enveloping you like the motherly embrace you once yearned for. “My dear, you are radiant,” she says, pressing your fingers gently. “Viktor is fortunate beyond measure. I have always known he would find someone exceptional.”

The words settle in your chest like lead. You murmur a soft “Thank you, my lady,” but the sentiment stings. Fortunate? Perhaps, but not in the way she imagines. You wish you could believe in the same happiness she does.

Across the room, Viktor lingers at the edge of the gathering, ever the observer. His gaze flickers towards you, assessing. He sees the perfect illusion—the grace, the charm—but does he notice the way your hands tighten in your lap when no one is watching? The way your laughter sounds hollow?

At last, he steps close enough that only you can hear him. “You do not seem out of place,” he remarks idly, reaching for a cup of tea.

You do not look at him as you reply. “Neither do you.”

He hums, tilting cup as if he were looking for an answer within it. “I expected you to be more resistant.”

“I have learnt when resistance is futile,” you answer smoothly, placing your empty cup on a passing tray. “And you?”

He glances at you, just once, before bringing his glass to his lips. “I have always known how to adapt.”

A small smile curls at the edge of your mouth, just enough to be seen by those watching, just enough to be mistaken for joy. “Then we are well-matched indeed.”

His lips quirk, as if in amusement. But he says nothing more. Instead, he lingers close enough so that the heat of his body transmits to yours, and unlike you, Viktor cannot blame his reddened cheeks on powder blush.

You try to read anything within his expression, but the only thing that gives him away is the almost imperceptible tightness of his jaw.

Before you decide what to make of it, you are pulled back to your bridal duties—an obligatory dance with your father comes first.

He observes you all the way through it, as if trying to decipher how unhappy you are. “Know, that I have never been more proud of you,” he says, holding your hands firmly.

“And why is that? I have achieved nothing today, Papa, I merely got married,” you jest, but your father sees right through you. He breaks the rhythm of the dance to pull you into an embrace and whispers into your ear, “It’s not that you got married. It’s how you’ve done it. Of that I am proud.”

You gasp quietly and let yourself be held. It helps you to get through the rest of the rituals—dancing with uncles and other relatives, until a brief reprieve comes in a shape of Jayce. He grins down at you with a lopsided ease. “Look at you,” he teases, his voice light despite the tension that flickers beneath. “The perfect bride, the perfect wedding. You’ve even got the perfect brother-in-law.”

You let out a quiet huff, only half amused. “Are you fishing for a compliment, Jayce?”

“Wouldn’t need to if you’d just admit I’m your favourite already.”

You move through the dance with ease, though his hand tightens slightly on yours as he lowers his voice. “You’re all right?”

A pause. You should lie, as you have been all morning, but Jayce is not so easily fooled. “I will be,” you answer, quiet but honest. It is the best you can offer.

He nods once, accepting that for what it is. “If he ever gives you trouble, you know where to find me.”

It is an unnecessary promise—Viktor is not cruel—but you do not dismiss it.

As the dance concludes, you step away, your role in the festivities almost complete. Before the hour grows too late, you press a ribbon into Kitty’s palm, her eyes lighting with delight as she fastens it to her wrist. Tess is more reserved when you pull her aside, brows knit in deep thought before you even place the pearl in her hand.

“You’ll be back soon, won’t you?” she asks. Her fingers curl around the gift, her frown pressing deeper.

You smooth back a stray lock of her hair, forcing a smile. “Of course.” Even you are not certain how much truth sits in those words.

At last, it is time to take your leave. The final goodbyes begin, your family gathering around, and just as you think the moment has passed without incident, your uncle—already too deep in his indulgences—lifts his glass with a booming voice.

“Well then! Since they will not dance together, they must at least seal the night with a kiss!”

Laughter ripples through the guests, some echoing their agreement, others clapping their hands in delight. A glance at your mother tells you she will not intervene—this is not so improper a request that it can be denied. Your father only sighs, while Jayce grins at Viktor, clearly entertained.

There is no way out of this. You glance at Viktor, only to find him already watching you.

He does not speak, but his gaze is searching, flicking over your expression with unreadable intent. A flicker of hesitation—barely a breath—before he shifts closer.

The moment stretches unbearably thin.

Then, Viktor leans in.

The kiss is light, brief, barely more than the press of his lips against yours. It is proper in every sense, exactly what is expected. And yet—something in it snags deep within you. The warmth of him, the feather-light brush, the way his breath lingers against your skin a second too long.

Then, so soft only you can hear, Viktor murmurs against your lips—

"It’s all right."

You do not know why the words unsettle you so.

By the time you pull apart, the guests are clapping, laughing, toasting the moment as if it were nothing at all. You school your expression back into place, accept the briefest of bows from Viktor before he steps aside, and let yourself be guided forward, toward the carriage that will take you away.

[enquire]

Kindle

Well here we have it. One last design to complete the class. Rounding things off with Kakeru.

Notes this time:

Kindle is a kirin and bull hybrid. He doesn't have a cutie mark because of this.

I originally was going to make him a bull, but I couldn't resist giving him some kirin traits-it fits his courtroom persona too well! So he does have the ability to produce flames, if only a little. It's localized mainly to his horns and eyes. His hooves probably get a bit hot as well, but not enough to set fires or cause damage.

He has a little bit of plating on his back in little bursts.

I tried to get as many flame motifs in here as I could haha

Ramblings below the cut

A Canterlot courtroom isn't exactly the place you'd expect to see somepony like Kindle. But despite the countless uppercrust unicorns he's surprised, he's still made a name for himself as a lawyer.

His spirit is matched by his fire, and he's made it his goal in life to defend those who need it most. Because of this, he's gained a lot of nicknames in legal circles. Such as the "Blazing Bull" (or "Raging Bull" by his less gracious opponents)

However, despite him having managed to make several connections while working in Canterlot, such as the stern Saber Frost, or the insightful Stardust siblings, it's not a place he'd call home.

For outside of the courtroom, Kindle struggles to keep and hold friendships and communicate with others. The fast pace of the city, and the often shallow or elitist nature of some of its residents, doesn't mesh well with Kindle's nature, or his being a fairly nervous country-pony whenever he's not practicing law.

After all, Kindle's heart lies in his hometown. The place he grew up, and where his family, including his younger sister, live. It's for them that he became a lawyer in the first place, even if it takes him far away more frequently than he'd like.

He's met many ponies in the course of his travels, but only two have ever really stayed by his side beyond the friends and family back home. Mourning Dove, and Mercy Suture. Both of whom had similar experiences, traveling all over Equestria for their talents while always keeping home in mind.

The quieter, calmer pace of their conversations made it simpler for Kindle to be himself without worry. And the three of them are regular penpals, who often meet up to see each other across their travels. Whenever Kindle finds himself in a new town, he always looks for local gems to grab a bite with his friends. Donut shops and diners are his favorites.

Whew. The set is finally complete... Somehow, Kakeru seems like a perfect final pony here. If you're curious, Midori would also be a cow-kirin hybrid.

I've made 18 of these designs so far. Though they're definitely imperfect, especially some of the earlier ones, I've had a great time working on this silly little project. It's been really good just making art for the fun, and getting better at not worrying about how good the pieces are or how niche it is haha.

I'm definitely not done with this AU of course! Now that I have names and designs down for everyone, there's definitely some more things I'd like to draw, and moments I'd like to visit for this. What can I say? I've liked ponies ever since I was little, and got drawn right back in this past year.

Maybe if I'm feeling really brave I'll share some written stuff? It's a bit intimidating going from what I usually post to something as silly and niche as an mlp crossover AU though I have to admit haha.

I think this is enough rambling for now, but I'll be back. If you're reading this, thanks for sticking around. Especially if you're one of the few whose been following me going through all these haha.

With that, I'm signing off!

[britts-galaxy-brain]

I'm not asking this out of malice or as a way to undermine the allegations you and others have put against LO, but out of curiosity as an outsider to this whole thing & who may not even know all the details:

Whats the point of having a whole blog just dedicated to stalking/obsessing over her? If anything from what I've seen nobody is going to ever get a confession from her. There unfortunately isn't enough proof to charge her with anything or put her behind bars (for the CSA allegations). And even after the KP video and the countless others reacting and talking about it, she hasn't been deplatformed (most people only talk about her shitty media opinions anyway). Also her diehard fans aren't going to be swayed because LO constantly lies and victimizes herself. At this point wouldn't just be better to move on and accept that somebody like LO is never going to change?Isn't it tiring to constantly have to talk about her and see her deny the things she did to you?

Perhaps this is something that's been asked before but I'm not sure like I said above I am not aware of everything surrounding this situation.

First of all, I don't obsess over her. I take frequent breaks from this blog, I have blogs outside of all this, and I have stuff going on irl that I have to prioritize over this.

My original reason for starting this blog was an attempt to warn others, and attempt to reach out to any shred of humanity Lily may have had. My first post on here was an open letter directly to her, talking about how much it pained me to see how low she'd fallen, and practically begging her to get help.

Once that got thrown back in my face and the smearing started, my goal shifted to just warning others about her. I'm not trying to get a confession out of her. I've given up all hope of her ever changing. But considering I have personal experience with her, and was a witness to her outright admitting to being an active danger to children, I can't in good conscious fully step away until she loses her influence at the very least.

The thought of walking away knowing that she's using her platform to abuse and target actual children doesn't sit well with me.

Side note: Commenting on things people post publicly is not anywhere near stalking and I'm getting really tired of people warping the meaning of that word. If I went out of my way to go to Canada and post up around her residence, that would be stalking. Responding to shit she spews on her public social media accounts is not in any way stalking.

[jrob64]

Hitting a High Note - A CS Modern AU Christmas Story

Merry Christmas everyone! While looking through my library of stories, I realized I've never written a Christmas story and decided to remedy that.

Special thanks and a very Merry Christmas to my loyal beta @hookedmom who has already agreed to stick with me and my muse through the New Year.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan talks her friend Killian Jones into going Christmas caroling, but she gets more than she bargains for when she hears him sing.

Rating: G (pure Christmas fluff!)

Words: 6227 (one-shot)

Also posted to Ao3 and ffn

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Killian Jones buttoned his black pea coat, then wrapped a festive green and gold scarf around his neck. After pulling a red knit cap onto his head, he checked his reflection in the mirror above his dresser and arranged his hair so that a few strands fell artfully over his forehead.

“I can’t believe she talked me into doing this,” he grumbled under his breath, but in truth, he absolutely could believe it. Emma Swan would be able to talk him into just about anything, seeing as how he was utterly and completely in love with her.

If only he was brave enough to tell her.

It wasn’t love at first sight for him. The first time he laid eyes on her was at the end of his second week in Storybrooke. She was tucked into her boyfriend’s side at The Rabbit Hole, a local hangout. That boyfriend happened to be Walsh Osterfeld, one of the most arrogant and irritating men Killian ever had the misfortune of meeting. He made the assumption then and there that the blonde who looked happy to have Walsh’s arm wrapped around her was just as bad as him.

But you know what they say about assuming.

In the weeks following that initial introduction, Emma frequently visited the library where Killian had just begun working. It turned out she was quite the bookworm, dispelling his theory that she wasn’t very intelligent, formulated solely because of who she was dating.

Usually, Killian politely waited on her while speaking minimally, but when she checked out a book written by his favorite author, he complimented her choice. Looking up at her when he handed her the receipt, he was frozen in place by the sparkle in her emerald eyes as she gave him a rather shy smile.

“Thanks,” she replied. “My ex told me he hated this author, and since he and I ended up not having much in common, I figured it was worth giving one of these books a try.”

“Your ex, huh?” Killian couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Yeah, we recently broke up.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he mumbled, though he was not at all sorry.

“Don’t be. We dated just long enough for me to figure out he’s very annoying.”

“So, just a few minutes, then?” Killian quipped, then realized his mistake.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why would you say that?”

He felt his face heat with embarrassment as he reached up to scratch nervously behind his ear. “Oh, um, I…I saw you at The Rabbit Hole a while back and you were, uh, pretty cozy with Walsh Osterfeld. I’m not a fan of his.”

Emma looked surprised. “How do you know him?”

“When my brother was setting up his accounting office, he and I went to Osterfeld’s store in search of furniture. He tried to sell Liam the most expensive pieces on display and when Liam said he wasn’t interested, Walsh treated him like he wasn’t worth his time. I convinced Liam to leave and we hired Marco Booth to make everything he needed for half the price of what Osterfeld was asking.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Emma responded. “He treated all of my friends pretty much the same way - like they didn’t measure up to his standards. I got tired of it rather quickly.”

Killian hummed, then leaned forward to tap his finger on the cover of the book she held. “Well, I truly think you’ll like this. Hopefully, I’ll be working when you return it and you’ll be able to give me your review.”

“Chances of that are pretty good, because you seem to be here nearly every time I come in lately. You haven’t worked here long, have you?”

“Only a few weeks. My brother and I moved here after I recuperated from surgery.” He held up the prosthetic at the end of his left arm. “Liam hated living in a big city and since I no longer had a job, I decided to make the move with him. Once tax season was over in April, he quit his job at an accounting firm in Boston because he was planning to open an office here. The bonus is that Storybrooke is a harbor town. Liam and I both like being near the water.”

“How did you find out about Storybrooke? It’s a pretty obscure place.”

“Do you know August Booth?”

“Yeah, he goes to my church. Marco’s son.”

“That’s the one. He’s my brother’s friend and former college roommate. He told Liam there weren’t any accountants in this town. ”

“I’ve seen your brother’s office. I’ll probably be requiring his services on April 14th next year.”

He chuckled. “Even though he’s very good, we hope not everyone in town waits until the last day of tax season to employ him.”

“You’re good at what you do, too,” she commented.

“Well, it doesn’t take a genius to work in a library.”

“Maybe not, but it does take someone who is helpful, knowledgeable about books, and treats people with respect. I’m Emma Swan, by the way,” she said, offering him her hand.

He shook it. “Killian Jones, at your service.”

That was the beginning of their friendship. He started to look forward to her frequent visits to the library and their impromptu discussions about books and other things. He found himself telling her about the accident that cost him his hand and job in construction. He explained that with the settlement he received from workman’s compensation, combined with his savings, he was able to afford to move and take a job that, although it paid less, was far more enjoyable.

Soon, they were meeting in the mornings for coffee before she left for her job at a flower shop, and watching movies at each other’s apartment on evenings when he didn’t work. Her friends became his as they hung out together at The Rabbit Hole on the weekends, and attended the same church.

When the announcement about Christmas caroling appeared in the church bulletin, Killian didn’t give it a second thought. Singing in the shower was one thing, singing in public was quite another. But when Emma asked him to come along, explaining how much fun it was to sing to people who were shut-ins, lonely, or just needed some Christmas spirit, he caved. Now he’s a man in love with a woman who liked him only as a friend, doing something that took him way out of his comfort zone.

He had never been Christmas caroling before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. He did know it would only be a small group of them singing though, which made him a little nervous. He felt more comfortable fading into the background in the middle of a crowd.

When he was growing up, his vagabond father moved their family often, not staying in any one place longer than a year or two. Liam took it as a challenge, making new friends and trying to fit in at every new school and neighborhood, but Killian grew more withdrawn and quiet. Even as an adult, he avoided situations which would draw attention to himself.

His phone buzzed on the dresser. Pulling himself out of his morose thoughts, he picked it up and read the message.

E: See you in 10 if you don’t chicken out.

The gif of a squawking chicken accompanying the text made him laugh. Emma had a knack for finding funny gifs and memes, which always brought a smile to his face. His thumb hit the microphone key and he spoke into his phone to record a return message.

K: I won’t chicken out as long as there are donuts & hot chocolate afterwards, as promised.

E: There better be, or I’m gonna be one cranky caroler.

After sending a laughing emoji, he stuffed the phone into the front pocket of his jeans, checked his reflection one more time, and left the small house he shared with Liam.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Emma fluffed out her blond hair over the collar of her red winter coat and adjusted the buffalo plaid scarf around her neck. After tugging a gray beanie onto her head, she checked her reflection in the mirror, applied some tinted lip gloss, and gave herself a small nod of approval.

She felt a little guilty being so concerned with how she looked, because the idea of Christmas caroling was to make other people feel good. Besides, she was going with a group of her best friends, so it wasn’t a matter of trying to impress anyone.

Except Killian Jones.

“You are such an idiot,” she quietly admonished herself. “He’s just a friend and you’re not supposed to be looking for someone to date. Remember the promise you made to yourself after you broke up with Walsh?” she asked her reflection.

Just thinking about her ex-boyfriend made her cringe. She kicked herself many times over agreeing to go out with him. He was pompous, domineering and snobby, all things she despised in a person. Although, to be fair, she didn’t know those things when she first started dating him. They came to light gradually as she spent more time with him, leaving her with the feeling that she wasn’t a very good judge of character.

She didn’t think she was wrong about Killian, though. He was sweet, sincere, considerate and humble; any woman would be lucky to date him. Maybe she should try setting him up with someone. He was still fairly new in town, and hadn’t met all of her friends yet. Belle had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and Mary Margaret’s teacher friends, Aurora and Jasmine, weren’t seeing anyone.

She wondered if he was even interested in dating. In all the time they’d known each other, he never mentioned a significant other. Maybe he had a girlfriend back in Boston and just didn’t talk about her. Or maybe, like her, he’d been in a bad relationship and swore off dating.

Regardless, she was going to be late if she kept musing about him. Grabbing her purse off of the bed, she dug through it for her keys, then left her apartment and hurried outside to her car parked along the curb.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Emma and Killian pulled up to the church simultaneously and parked beside each other. After unbuckling her seatbelt, she swung her car door open, got out and slammed it shut. She might love her little yellow bug, but it had some issues, such as the door popping back open if you didn’t shut it hard enough.

“Hey, Jones,” she called, walking around the back of her car to meet him. “Went with a sock hat, I see.”

“Pardon me?” he asked, puzzlement apparent on his stupidly handsome face.

“Your hat. I thought you would wear something different.”

She watched him scratch behind his ear, a habit she found quite adorable. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe a top hat with a sprig of holly?”

“I agreed to Christmas carol, not to look like I belong in the ‘Christmas Carol’,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

Emma giggled. It seemed nobody could make her laugh more than Killian Jones, with his dry but sharp sense of humor.

“Are you ready to do this?” she asked, beginning to walk up the sidewalk to the church.

He fell into step beside her. “Uh, I guess.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’ve never gone caroling before,” he admitted.

She threaded her arm through his left elbow. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

He hummed and patted her arm with his right hand. “If you say so, Swan.”

“I do.”

They entered the church lobby and saw that most of the other carolers were already there. Ashley and her husband, Shawn, Mary Margaret and David, Ruby, Belle, Elsa, Anna and her fiancé Kris, and a few other people from their church - around fifteen in all.

“We’ll be singing to eight elderly church members and then going over to a nursing home,” Mary Margaret informed them as soon as they joined the cluster of people. “Since they’re spread out all over town, we’ll need to drive from place to place. We’ve already determined who is driving and who will be in each car. The two of you will be with us in my car. David will drive.”

“Why can’t I drive?” Emma asked.

“Perhaps because we all value our lives,” Killian teased, tongue in cheek.

“Hey!” Emma protested. “I’m an excellent driver!”

“It’s not your driving skills we question, Swan. It’s that dodgy excuse for a car.”

She glared at him. “Insult my car at your own risk, Jones.”

“I just did,” he assured her.

They realized the rest of the group had started to file out of the church, so they followed along, still arguing about her car. In front of them, Mary Margaret and David shared amused looks.

Just as Emma and Killian were settling into the back seat, there was a knock on Emma’s window. She looked over to see August peering in at her. “Got room for one more?” he asked, loud enough to be heard through the glass.

“Uh, sure,” Emma said, opening the door, then sliding over to the middle of the seat. August squeezed in beside her and she scooted even closer to Killian.

“Thanks,” August said. “I lost track of the time and was afraid I would be left behind.”

“It’s good to have you with us,” David commented as he put the car in drive and followed Kris’s vehicle out of the parking lot.

“Hey, August,” Killian greeted, leaning forward to speak around Emma.

“Hey, yourself,” August smiled. “Is Liam in one of the other cars?”

“No, I invited him to come, but he’s an old Scrooge and said it was too cold. It’s probably for the best, though. He’s a terrible singer.”

Emma elbowed him sharply. “Be nice.”

“Ouch!” Killian exclaimed. “Are you trying to break a rib, Swan?”

“Stop being so dramatic. You probably didn’t even feel it through all your layers of clothes.”

He continued to rub his side. “Once you hear my brother sing, you’re going to realize I was right, and then you’ll owe me an apology for bruising me.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Killian on this one,” August piped up. “Liam and I were fraternity brothers at college, and hearing him sing the Alma Mater had me wishing I could transfer to another university.”

Everyone in the car began to laugh. “Poor Liam,” Mary Margaret said when it died down. “We shouldn’t be making fun of him when he’s not even here to defend himself.”

“Liam is plenty talented,” Killian said. “Just not in singing.”

“Oh, don’t forget to buckle your seatbelts,” Mary Margaret stated, ever the designated mom of the group.

Killian felt Emma’s hand reach down between their hips and brush against his butt as she searched for hers, and he leaned toward her to say, “Um, that’s not your seatbelt, Love.”

She jerked her hand away quickly and he chuckled when he saw color fill her cheeks. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Think nothing of it.” He reluctantly moved closer to the door and pulled the buckles between them free so they could fasten their belts. “Maybe someday I can return the favor,” he continued, flirtateously waggling his eyebrows at her.

As he expected, she rolled her eyes at him playfully, then turned to ask August a question. Killian rubbed his gloved hand and prosthesis against his jean-clad knees, and looked out his window toward the sideview mirror, only to see Mary Margaret’s face reflected in it. His eyes widened and he felt himself blush when he saw the sly smile and sparkle in her eyes as her gaze bounced between himself and Emma.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The first stop was a learning experience for Killian. He stood in the middle of the group and sang along softly, but mostly just watched the rest of the carolers and the recipients of their songs. Observing the smiles on all of their faces, his heart filled with the joy of the season

Marco’s house was the next stop and after they piled out of their car, August went inside to get his father. While they waited for him to bundle up and make his appearance, Killian edged closer to where Emma stood chatting with Mary Margaret.

When the dark-haired woman noticed his presence, she gave him a conspiratorial smile and subtly took a step to the side, leaving a gap beside Emma, which Killian filled immediately. He always liked listening to her voice as she sang the hymns in church and wanted to hear her sing the beautiful Christmas carols.

He watched her bounce on her toes and rub her upper arms briskly, breath coming out in steamy clouds. “Cold, Swan?” he asked.

“A little, but I don’t mind. It just makes me look forward to the hot chocolate even more.”

“I’m sure Marco will appreciate our caroling,” he said, stepping closer to her, hoping to block the wind a bit.

“Yeah, he will. He appreciates everything. I love his cheery outlook on life.”

“Aye, he’s a sweet soul…”

At that moment, the front door opened and Marco stepped out, followed by August, who descended the steps to rejoin the group. Mary Margaret began singing “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and everyone else joined in immediately.

When the song ended, Marco applauded, a smile lighting up his weathered face. “Now don’t be afraid to sing a little louder,” he said. “These old ears don’t work so well anymore!”

They appeased him by adding more volume to “Jingle Bells” followed by “Up on the Housetop”, complete with all the hand motions.

“Let’s do one more,” David said.

“Dad’s favorite carol is ‘The First Noel’,” August shared.

Everyone nodded their agreement and once again, Mary Margaret started the song. By this time, Killian felt more comfortable and confident in his singing, his clear tenor voice gaining volume. Every now and then, he saw Emma glancing at him, giving him a somewhat quizzical look. He briefly wondered what she was thinking, but he was enjoying himself and didn’t dwell on it.

When he hit the high note on the final ‘noel’ of the song, he was watching Marco’s beaming face, so he failed to see the look of awe on Emma’s.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

After bidding Marco goodbye and returning to their cars to travel to the next place, Emma sat wedged between August and Killian, trying to evaluate the feelings washing over her. Of course she liked Killian, and of course she found him attractive. She was a heterosexual female, after all. But after months of convincing herself that he was nothing more than her friend, suddenly her eyes were opened to the truth - she had feelings for him that went much deeper than simply friendship. It was as if that high note he sang hit her right in the heart.

“Alright there, Swan?”

She startled at his question and shook herself out of her musing. “Oh, um, yeah. I’m fine, just a bit chilly,” she replied, not looking at him. She didn’t want to risk him reading her thoughts.

Killian reached over to adjust the temperature setting on the console in front of her. His arm brushed against her leg, causing a rush of warmth through her that had nothing to do with the car’s heating system.

“Thank you,” she murmured, wondering why she hadn’t thought of doing that herself, while at the same time knowing it was because her mind was elsewhere. For the rest of the ride to the next location, she engaged August in conversation.

As the evening progressed, Emma somewhat successfully redirected her thoughts to the fun and joyful activity. Whenever they gathered to sing, she intended to put some distance between herself and Killian, but was magnetically drawn to him and his melodious voice.

After caroling at all of their scheduled stops, they made their way back to the church, where volunteers had coffee, hot chocolate and donuts waiting for them in the community room. Emma picked up her warm beverage and snack, then busied herself talking to Elsa and Anna. She saw Killian sitting with David and Mary Margaret, but didn’t join them as she normally would. Once her conversation with the sisters was over, she noticed Killian heading her way and quickly tossed her trash in the bin, then ducked into the restroom.

When she emerged several minutes later, Killian was leaning against the wall beside the door. “Swan, are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“What? No!” she immediately responded. “What makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like you’ve been talking to everyone except me this evening. Have I done something to upset you?”

Her fingers began toying with the chain around her neck, a nervous habit of hers. “No, Killian, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just…I guess I was busy catching up with some of my other friends.”

Killian scratched behind his ear, a nervous habit of his own. “Sorry, Swan. I didn’t mean to accuse you. Of course you have other friends and want to talk to them. I shouldn’t have been so sensitive.”

Emma felt bad. Here he was apologizing when she had been avoiding him most of the evening. “Don’t worry about it, Killian. Like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Looking around, she realized many people were getting ready to leave. “I think I’m gonna say goodbye to Mary Margaret and David and call it a night.”

“I think I’ll do the same.”

They walked together to the table where the couple still sat. After chatting with them for a few moments, Killian helped Emma into her coat and donned his own, then they exited the building. There was an awkward silence as they walked side-by-side toward their cars and she knew it was her fault. They usually spoke so freely and easily to each other, but now, her discomfort and confusion over her newly discovered feelings was driving an invisible wedge between them.

They reached her car and Killian yanked the driver’s side door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“You have to have the magic touch,” Emma stated. After breathing on the side of her balled fist, she rapped it on the doorframe just above the handle, then grinned at him triumphantly when she pulled on it and it instantly opened.

He was unimpressed. “I don’t think you need the magic touch, I think you need a tow truck,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Giving a little huff, she settled behind the steering wheel. “My car might not be as fancy as yours,” she said, eyeing his Chevy Chevelle parked beside hers, “but it gets me where I want to go.”

“If you say so, Love,” he sighed. “Drive home safely.”

“I will,” she promised, then closed the door and fastened her seat belt. The VW’s engine roared to life, she pushed in the clutch, then shifted into reverse. After backing out of the parking space and putting it into gear, she waved at him and pulled out of the parking lot.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Killian watched the dilapidated bug until it turned the corner, before he got into his own vehicle. As he traveled home, he wondered about Emma’s behavior throughout the evening. Everything seemed perfectly normal for the first couple of stops, but after caroling to Marco, she hardly said another word to him.

He racked his brain to figure out what he did to upset her, but couldn’t come up with anything. When they were in the car, she was either talking to August or appeared to be lost in thought. After arriving back at the church, he thought she would join Mary Margaret, David and himself at their table. He didn’t think anything of her talking to Elsa and Anna instead of sitting with them, until he was walking over to ask if he could get her another hot cocoa. She still had a small piece of donut left, but when she saw him coming, she tossed it in the trash and hurried into the bathroom.

It was at that point that he realized she was avoiding him for some reason. Even though she walked with him to her car, she still hardly said anything to him.

The Christmas caroling was fun. He thoroughly enjoyed the fellowship with the other singers and seeing the obvious pleasure the caroling brought to the recipients, but as he drove home, he had a hollow feeling in his gut. He wished he knew why Emma suddenly seemed uncomfortable in his presence.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Emma couldn’t sleep. Once she got home after Christmas caroling, she soaked in a hot bath for a while, then tried to read, but her thoughts kept drifting, so she finally gave up and went to bed. Now, she was lying wide awake, while memories of the last seven months ran through her mind.

When had she developed romantic feelings for Killian Jones? And more importantly, what was she going to do about it?

She never had any luck with dating. Oh, she’d been asked out plenty of times, but it usually ended up being a one time thing. The only two guys she went out with more than once were Neal and Walsh, and both turned out to be losers. Maybe the problem was that she set her standards so high, nobody could meet them.

Killian Jones might just prove her wrong…if she gave him a chance.

Rolling onto her side, she stretched to grab her phone off of the nightstand and checked the time. Seeing that it was only a few minutes after eleven, she sighed. She felt like she had been in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to clear her mind of the swirling thoughts.

Almost subconsciously, she tapped on her messages app and scrolled through until she reached the thread with Killian. They sometimes texted late in the evenings, so she was sure he wouldn’t mind.

E: Are you awake?

K: No. Sound asleep.

E: Liar.

K: What’s up?

Emma hesitated before answering, debating whether or not to take a risk. Killian had become a good friend and she had no idea if his feelings were anything like her own. If she admitted them, would it ruin their friendship, or lead to something wonderful?

Finally, she made a decision.

E: Can I call you?

Within seconds, his name appeared on her screen as an incoming call. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and answered, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me texting you so late.”

“Not at all, Swan. What’s on your mind?”

“I, uh, I wanted to apologize for tonight. You were right - I was avoiding you.”

There was a long pause before he replied in a quiet voice, “May I ask why?”

It was her turn to pause as she tried to establish what she wanted to say. “I didn’t know you had such a great singing voice.”

“My voice is what caused you to avoid me?” he asked incredulously.

“No, I…it’s just that I…” She heaved a sigh. “I’m screwing this all up.”

“Screwing what up?”

“My apology and my…confession.”

“Confession?” he asked, his tone heavy with confusion. “What are you confessing?”

“I…you know what? Just forget it. This is a conversation I’d really rather have in person.”

She heard him clear his throat. When he spoke his next words, she had to strain to hear him. “I can be there in fifteen minutes, Emma.”

“Killian, I’m not asking you to come over in the middle of the…”

“I know you’re not asking, but I’m offering. Is that alright with you?”

Emma plucked at her blanket, knowing she probably wouldn’t get any sleep until she talked to him. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Positive. I’ll change clothes and be there as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Killian. Drive carefully.”

After his assurance that he would, she hopped out of bed and tugged a hoodie over her pajama top. Then she began pacing the floor as she waited, trying to compose in her head what she was going to say.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Killian was never so glad that Storybrooke was small, since Emma lived on the opposite side of town. It also worked in his favor that the streets were nearly deserted and the town sheriff was likely snoozing in the police station, because he couldn’t help going a little over the speed limit to try to get there quicker.

His mind was racing, replaying what Emma said over the phone. A confession. What could that mean? Was she going to confess she didn’t want to be his friend anymore, or maybe she was dating someone? Engaged? Secretly married?

Stop it, he commanded himself. Of course she wasn’t married or engaged, or surely he would have found that out in the last several months.

Still, a confession usually meant something that was hard to admit. Could she possibly have feelings for him that went beyond friendship? Dare he hope for that?

Finally arriving at her apartment, he pulled up to the curb, cut the engine, and took a couple of deep, calming breaths. In a few minutes, he would find out whatever it was Emma wanted to confess. He just hoped he could handle it.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Emma was still trying to figure out what she was going to say, when she heard a soft knock on her door. Always the gentleman, she knew Killian wouldn’t want to wake her neighbors by knocking too loudly.

She gave herself a quick pep talk as she crossed the living room, then turned the knob and opened the door. If she hadn’t been so focused on the upcoming conversation, she would have laughed at her friend’s untidy appearance. He wore a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie with ‘Adidas’ emblazoned on the front in white letters. His usually neatly combed hair looked like he’d run his hand through it numerous times and she saw a bit of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.

Stepping aside, she waved him into the room. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Not a problem, Love,” he said.

She closed the door and turned to face him. It was obvious he was just as nervous as her by the way he rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Do you want to sit down?” she offered.

“Uh, sure.”

He sat on the edge of the sofa and she dropped down onto the other end of it, fidgeting with the drawstring of her hoodie. After several moments of tense silence, she said, “I guess I owe you an explanation for why I acted the way I did tonight.”

“You don’t owe me anything, but I’ll listen if you want to tell me.”

She gave him a small smile and he encouraged her with a slight nod. “I…we, um, we’ve known each other for over seven months now, right?”

“We met in May, so that sounds about right.”

“You’ve become a good friend to me, Killian. You’re easy to talk to and you always make me laugh, no matter how bad of a mood I’m in. But tonight, when I heard you sing, it was…it was like a switch flipped and suddenly I realized I feel…different towards you.”

When she paused for a few moments, he coaxed her to continue. “What do you mean by different, Swan?”

Slowly, she pulled her eyes up to meet his, and the gentleness she saw in the blue depths gave her the courage to go on. “My feelings have gone beyond friendship. I…I think I’m falling for you.”

Holding her breath, she awaited his response. The stunned expression on his face had her rethinking her decision to tell him, but the grin that slowly stretched across his handsome features soon pushed that thought away.

“I’m really happy to hear that, Emma, and I must say that it’s about bloody time!” he blurted, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

It was her turn to be stunned. “Wha-...does that mean that…that you…”

“I’m falling for you?” he said, completing her question. “I already did a long time ago.”

“Y-you did? But why didn’t you tell me?”

He nervously scratched behind his ear. “I didn’t think you were ready to hear it and I was afraid my confession would drive you away.”

“That’s why I was hesitant to tell you, too.” She paused and squinted at him. “You said a long time ago. Just how long?”

“Remember that day in August when you talked me into going to the beach with you? I was so self-conscious about taking my prosthesis off and letting you see my stump, but you grabbed me by the wrist to lead me out to the water like it didn’t bother you at all.”

“Of course it doesn’t. I’m a fan of every part of you, Killian,” she said, reaching out to take his prosthesis in her hand. “That was a long time ago. You kept your feelings hidden really well.”

“It wasn’t easy, but now,” he said, moving closer to her on the couch, “I don’t have to hide them anymore."

“No, you don’t,” she agreed, moving easily into his arms and peering up into his face; the look of pure adoration he wore melting her heart, while at the same time, making it beat faster.

Without a doubt, she knew she made the right decision.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It has to be a dream, Killian’s mind was telling him. Emma just confessed having romantic feelings for him and now she was in his arms, looking for all the world like she wanted to kiss him. This couldn’t really be happening, could it?

There’s only one way to find out, he reasoned. Closing the distance between them, he brushed his lips against hers, then pulled back enough to see her chasing after him, clearly wanting more. Who was he to deny her?

The moment their lips connected in a deeper kiss, the sparks flew. What he had been thinking for months was confirmed; he truly was in love with Emma Swan.

He would have happily continued kissing her for the rest of the night (or of his life), but a need for oxygen superseded his plans. Slowly opening his eyes, he took in the look of complete bliss on her face. “Emma?” he whispered.

When her beautiful green eyes blinked open, he saw the same happiness he was feeling reflected in them. “Yeah?” she breathed.

“I’m way past falling for you. I’m in love with you.”

It was his turn to hold his breath as he waited for her response, but not for long. Immediately, she surged forward to kiss him again. Then, as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, she replied, “Good, because I love you, too.”

Another breathtaking round of making out followed their declarations. Since neither of them was ready to let go of the other yet, they stretched out side-by-side on the couch, cuddling and kissing under a fleece blanket, while listening to Christmas music set to a crackling fire video on TV.

Soon, they were asleep in the arms of the person they loved. When Killian woke up In the morning with a crick in his neck from sleeping in an awkward position, he considered it well worth the pain.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Emma sat in the church on Christmas Eve, listening to Killian sing a solo of ‘O Holy Night’. It had been a year since she declared her love for him and a lot had happened since then, not the least of which was him asking her to marry him.

When he hit the high note towards the end of the song, Emma felt the now familiar tingle run down her spine. She was sure his smooth, mellow voice would always have that effect on her. As the final notes of the song faded away, she met his eyes and knew he would see all of the love and pride shining in her own, even in the dimly lit sanctuary.

He rejoined her in the pew and she entwined their fingers, then leaned in to whisper, “It was absolutely perfect, my love.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

A year ago, Killian didn’t want to sing loud enough for other people to hear; he never would have been brave enough to sing a solo in front of the whole congregation. Having Emma’s love changed that, along with so many other things in his life.

One thing that hadn’t changed was the fact that Emma is his best friend and soulmate. Having so few friends growing up, he cherished having someone with whom he could share everything. She is always there for him - listening, discussing, and cheering him on. Proposing to her was the easiest decision in the world.

It was her idea for him to sing a solo for the Christmas Eve service. As he prepared for it, he once again asked himself how she talked him into it, but the answer was the same as it was last year, when he made the momentous decision to go Christmas caroling.

He was utterly and completely in love with Emma Swan.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and a New Year that hopefully has lots of new Captain Swan content!

Tagging: @hookedmom​​​​​​ @kmomof4​​ @cs-rylie​​​​​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​​ @grimmswan​​​​​​ @wyntereyez​​​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​​ @paradiselady19​​​​​​ @xarandomdreamx​​​​​​ @motherkatereloyshipper​​​​​ @julesep3026​​​​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​​ @pawshapedheart​​​​​​ @vampcoffeegyrl23​​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​​ @captainswan4life85​​​​​​ @bluewildcatfanatic​​​​​​ @eleveneitherway​​​​​ @elfiola​​​​​​ @kday426​​​​​​ @julieenchanted-swans​​​​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​​​​ @andiirivera​​​​​​ @djlbg​​​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​​ @huntressandlioness1​​​​​ @anmylica​​​​​​ @booksteaandtoomuchtv​​​​​​ @pirateherokillian​​​​​​ @cocohook38​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​​​ @zaharadessert​​​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​​​ @yasbio2015​​​​​​ @lyssapup27​​​​​​ @nachocheese-itsmycheese​​​​​​ @singersdd​​​​​​ @mie779​​​​​​ @undercaffinatednightmare​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​​ @jackieorioncat​​​​​​ @teamhook​​​​ @bdevereaux-blanche​​​​​​ @soniccat​​​​​ @searchingwardrobes​​​​​​ @jarienn972​​​​​​ @apiratewhopines​​​​​​​ @softkilly​​​​​​​ @goforlaunchcee​​​​​​​ @kymbersmith-90​​​​​​​ @captainswan217-blog

[ash-muses]

How do they talk to small kids? Is their tone demeaning? Do they go down to their level? Do they feel at ease? (Loki. u know i had to send it)

♡ Question from Minor Details About The Muse ♡ Additional tags: @mythical-muses (I thought you might find this interesting since we've been discussing Loki's reactions + relationships with kids, too) ♡ Notes: I'm excluding Avengers-era Loki because of Thanos' influence over him at the time (all debates about whether Loki was tortured by Thanos aside, we already know he was at least influenced by the Mind Stone). Also, no, I haven't watched The Office (I know, it's blasphemy, especially using a GIF from it *sobs*).

Ahhh, thanks for sending this in, Ghosts! ♡ Just a heads up, this post will probably be a bit long~

Most of you know how I am already when it comes to talking about my favorite little beans. ♡ For those of you who don't, I'm so sorry in advance and good luck.

Firstly, his own children would be an entirely different story than some random child(ren), so we'll focus on kids in general.

Secondly, I have to start with a short analysis (well, shorter than what I would like, because I could write for days and in-depth about this topic).

If you don't want to read the character analysis, that's totally fine! Feel free to skip down to the next banner under the cut ("BREAKDOWN").

Lately, I've received more questions about Loki and how he would interact with kids (his own or otherwise), which is really interesting to me. He has such a versatile nature, but something consistent I and many others have noticed is that Loki tends to put others before himself, although maybe not in the ways we would expect or consider to be in that vein. There are a few posts that I absolutely love that go into more detail about that (here and here; future ones will be posted under this tag for anyone curious).

SIDE NOTES (you can skip this, it's just my ramblings & other observations) While the second post talks more about how Loki didn't want the throne, I'd also like to point out that he was trying to do what he thought was best for Asgard and its people by protecting them from Thor's reckless and impulsive, albeit mostly well-meaning, behavior at that time (excluding his attempts at Jotun genocide, despite their realms having a truce at the time, as @mythical-muses and I have previously discussed). A lot of people will point out how Loki did this to further his own agenda. While that certainly may be a part of it, that post also mentions an important piece: Loki looks shocked that he was handed Gungnir, indicating it was an after thought (if it was ever considered to begin with). Mostly, it appears that his goal was to prove that Thor might endanger Asgard — as well as the rest of the Nine Realms — by being hotheaded. Ultimately, this gives leverage to Loki genuinely being concerned about his home and its people, even if his actions lead us to believe he was doing it selfishly; this is a pattern he displays frequently throughout the MCU, although in my experience, tends to be overlooked (I can't speak on the comics since I'm not well versed in those yet, so this is mainly for MCU).

Anyway, my point is that we already know Loki does that for adults. So for children, who are tiny beings that potentially (if not explicitly) feel more intensely, aren't as experienced, struggle expressing themselves, might feel insecure (whether it's about their appearance, skills, heritage, etc.), and may not have decent coping mechanisms yet?

I think that Loki would very much try to meet them on their level, down to the most minute detail and most respectful way that he could manage. I believe that he would want to be better than Odin, better than Laufey — really, better than whatever other adults in his own life seemingly, or flat out, failed him.

SIDE NOTES That isn't to say that the God of Mischief wouldn't occasionally blow a fuse or that he's perfect or that he could handle every situation with grace. There are probably times when he's embarrassed himself with an angry outburst or times when he's played a 'mean' (subjective) joke on them for not listening. I'm thinking about when he summoned that snake with the guard in the deleted scene in Thor 1 (something tells me that children wouldn't be immune to him pulling something like that, particularly if they were rude or ill-mannered).

So, with that character analysis out of the way, we know that...

♡ He's cunning and observant (that's a given, considering who he is) ♡ One established pattern is that he shows concern for others (despite his actions sometimes appearing as selfish) ♡ He tries to handle things diplomatically and/or respectfully (we see this numerous times: when he tries to gently tell Thor they should leave Jotunheim in Thor 1; when he approaches Laufey privately later on - this is debatable because of his intent, but ultimately, he approached Laufey with respect unlike Thor had previously done; when Loki tries to talk to Thor about getting on the Grandmaster's good side; when Loki meets Valkyrie; etc.) ♡ He's still a morally grey character (and will probably play 'mean' jokes on children who are rude, obnoxious, ill-mannered, etc.) ♡ He's understanding, to an extent (remember that he's motivated by various means and highly analytical, so he's probably already mapped out why others choose certain actions, speech, etc.)

Applying this to Loki...

Mostly, I'm talking about my version of Loki for my roleplays. However, this is also a general take I have from the character analysis I've done on MCU Loki since 2011.

He's been taught to be a Prince, so he's keen on manners, discipline, bartering/negotiations, etc. This also includes carrying himself in a certain way in public (this plays a bit into the next question below). With that being said, he has a sort of complex already built that has become a main part of his personality. Frigga has also played a huge role in building said complex, teaching him compassion, kindness, respect, that he doesn't have to be what others make him out to be, that it's okay to be different (fun fact: Seidr magic is typically used by women, whereas Loki learns it from Frigga), etc. Additionally, Loki seems like the type that would show respect until he had a reason not to (even when it comes to the Warriors Three, we still see him addressing them respectfully, despite them mocking him, threatening him, etc. so I feel like this would still apply with children or other adults; it seems like a part of that complex I mentioned above).

Do they feel at ease?

Generally when it comes to children, he's probably going to feel a bit uncertain yet maintain a steady confidence and/or an air of sophistication, although probably diluted or softer compared to his typical demeanor. After all, an adult typically knows who they're addressing (with some exceptions), including royalty/status, name, etc. while a child might not have all the information.

How do they talk to small kids? Is their tone demeaning?

I think he would address them as slightly lesser beings, but not unkindly and, for the most part, not carrying a sense of superiority. I think the superiority part really only comes into play when he's dealing with adults, particularly people who might challenge or threaten the amount of respect he's already earned, especially because he's had to fight for almost every ounce of it. His usual tone would most likely have a steadiness to it, yet an underlying gentleness. I feel like he would try to withhold his annoyance (if he had any; again something that's situational) because it could make it worse. For situations that require discipline, he may use a stricter tone or carry an air of authority (depending on severity, relationship with said child, etc.).

Do they go down to their level?

If the child is one he's unfamiliar with, he's probably not going to physically put himself on the same level. However, I think there's a few exceptions, such as if they're scared, hurt, crying, etc. Then, in order to hold their attention and make a sort of connection, he would probably kneel on one knee and make light contact (one hand on their arm/shoulder, holding out a hand to see if they're comfortable to take it, etc.) — something that provides comfort, support, and/or reassurance (that trait would, undoubtedly, come from Frigga).

[youphoriaot7]

ACTUALLY WAIT-

I'm so sorry op I'm gonna write a q!Roier character study essay under your funny post I apologize I LOVED THE POST THOUGH <3 /lh

Side note, I've only seen a total of two (2) Jaiden streams so this could be a complete mischaracterization, and I sincerely apologize for that—please yell at me in the tags if I'm wrong, I'm still so behind on so much lore (Cellbit main slash neg /j)—but I needed to spew my thoughts.

BUT I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS EARLIER BECAUSE

We know there's two Cucurucho's now, right? One that's more business-like, more Federation-focused, more...aggressive. And one that's more, well, silly—eccentric, I believe was the word used.

And we are all WELL aware of q!Cellbit and q!Jaiden's HEAVILY differing opinions on the Cucuruchos—Cellbit basically wanting to dismantle the Federation and shove a blade in Cucurucho's throat, meanwhile Jaiden's having tea parties and making a good friend. (And this is only about the Cucuruchos, and this distinction is important—because they're both wary of the Federation, but Jaiden trusts the Cucuruchos.*)

Now, who has more experience with the business Cucurucho? Cellbit, clearly. From the moment he summoned the bear with Forever with that iron machine and got chased down a horror tunnel with a chainsaw, he made an enemy for life. And then it stalked him for weeks, and then it kidnapped him and his best friends—man has reason to be upset, but that's beside the point: Cellbit primarily has interacted with the aggressive Federation Cucurucho.

Jaiden, on the other hand, has not. The primary portion of her interactions have been with the silly Cucurucho, the eccentric Cucurucho, the imperfect Cucurucho. She's confided things to it, they've talked about a whole bunch of topics—and it's friendly, to the point of having tea parties and dancing around and blowing bubbles. (I'm hesitant to add too much more here, as again I don't know a large amount about q!Jaiden lore, but you get the point.)

Now, that's not to say they haven't each experienced the other: Jaiden had at least one that I know of, the Federation Cucurucho giving her the details for the dungeon mission atop the wall. Cellbit's had a couple of run-ins with the silly Cucurucho, the one I can think of off the top of my head being that instance when the Cucuruchos showed up back to back at his castle and he took them through his paranormal rooms.

And both times, it's felt...out of character. As a Cellbit viewer, I know I've been weirded out when "Cucurucho plays nice." It's like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop...but it never does. And I'd imagine a similar thing for Jaiden viewers—though, again, a lot of this is speculation, and I apologize.

But who has had experience with both the most frequently?

Roier.

Early on in the server, Roier and Cucurucho had a fairly positive relationship. After their fight about the tacos, Cucurucho even apologized, and seems to have left gifts and such to show it. He always comes when Roier calls, even now—as proven by his and Cellbit's test a few weeks ago.

But eventually, stuff took a turn. Roier has pointed out before they used to be friends, but "Cucurucho changed." He went from friendly to frosty, caring to cold. Eccentric and imperfect to business-like. Perfect.

Ever since Bobby's "revival" and Cellbit's kidnapping, Roier hasn't truly trusted the Federation or Cucurucho, probably even more than he really lets on. But it started before that, really. His distrust runs all the way back to that "abrupt personality change," which, as I believe he now knows, was more likely an entire Cucurucho switch.

Now, who are q!Roier's two closest friends on the entire island?

Jaiden, his platonic partner, and Cellbit, his husband.

Roier is the bridge between the two. (Always has been, to be honest.) He's the connection they're both missing, the piece that both of them need. The one that can remind Cellbit about the compassionate Cucurucho, the one to gently mention the fact that this other bear has never been as aggressive, never committed any...chainsaw transgressions. (That we know of, at least.) The one that can remind Jaiden about the cold Cucurucho, the one to gently mention the fact that not everyone has been as lucky with the Federation as she has. (For whatever reason.)

And he trusts them both, don't think he doesn't—he's pretty much the only one that supported Cellbit through his corruption arc, pretty much the only one that told Jaiden to ignore the people that didn't trust her. (Because q!Roier chooses bonds, not sides, but that's a whole other rant.) Which, really, puts him in a bit of an awkward spot: having Cellbit ranting about being chased with a chainsaw one minute, and then turning around to listen to Jaiden talk about the walk in the flower garden they took not even ten seconds later. But he handles it flawlessly. (Also a rant for another time.)

Just—hnnnnnngh. Roier and his bonds, and how they connect to the Cucuruchos and, by extention, his views on the Federation as a whole. His cubito is so much more layered than I think people really give him credit for and I just—hnnNNNGHHHHH.

(* Side note—about the distinction between Federation and Cucuruchos. This is something I personally saw q!Jaiden first do, separating the entities of Cucurucho from the greater Federation as a whole. And, to an extent, I really think that's accurate. We don't really know what either Cucurucho...is, why they're here, what their goals are, how closely tied with the Federation they really are—we don't have a lot of answers about anything, to be quite honest. We don't have much information about the Federation, either. There isn't quite enough to make a complete, undeniable, negative connotation yet. And that's another thing that makes this so interesting.)

Can you believe these two are the closest people to q!Roier?

[shadamyheadcanons]

Hi there! I was wondering about the IDW comics-is there a way to read them online? I've been trying to find a way to read them but it seems like you have to buy them one by one. Thanks!

Tbh, I’ve been reading them online here, but I’ll be buying them soon. I’m just not sure which format I want yet. IDW has digital copies on their website - issue #1 is $1.99, and volume 1 (the first 12 issues) is $19.99. Places like Amazon, ebay, and Barnes & Noble have them, too. The art is incredible, and I would much prefer to buy physical copies so I could see it on an actual page, but the prices are pretty steep, especially for those fancy hardcover volumes, and they’re frequently out of stock, so I’ve been hemming and hawing about it. [Update: I’ve started buying the hardcovers since I posted this. I have the first three so far. The colors aren’t quite as vibrant in the books as they are online, unfortunately, but if you like having a physical copy in your hands as much as I do, I’d say they’re worth it.]

They did release a FREE issue about Tangle and Whisper, so if you’ve ever been curious about those two, check it out here! I really like them.

I’d highly recommend IDW not just to Sonic fans, but to literally anyone with eyes. It’s great for a million reasons, but I’ll focus on the art here. The covers are beautiful and action-packed, right from cover A for issue 1...

(Artists: Tracy Yardley & Tyson Hesse)

...to the latest, beautiful renaissance-inspired cover B for issue 59:

(Artist: Natalie Haines)

She made an actual painting for this, and she’s damn proud of it. As she should be. Just look at it!

More pretty IDW art and accompanying ranting under the cut.

I adore the introductions they give to the characters. Here’s Amy being a cute badass in issue 2. She’s earned it!!!

(Artist: Adam Bryce Thomas)

Side note: I like how they introduce characters in the order they were created, so Tails was issue 1, and issue 2 featured Amy. Knuckles didn’t show up until issue 3! This series gives Amy her proper place right from the get-go. It’s a nice touch.

Blaze is always cool in IDW--well, figuratively speaking. Look at her awesome introduction in issue 4!

(Artist - Evan Stanley, colorist - Matt Herms)

IDW’s artists do a great job portraying dynamic motion and physical impacts. There’s another really cool use of her powers later on, but I don’t want to spoil it! 👀

It’s not just the characters. The backgrounds and scenery are great, too. This is Angel Island from issue 9. Love the foreshortening in the back:

(Artist - Tracy Yardley, colorist - Matt Herms)

And the art being as good as it is fuels how strong the characters are. When was the last time the games properly showcased Amy and Cream’s friendship? IDW does it right, and issue 22’s art reinforces that:

(Artist: Priscilla Tramontano)

The context makes it significantly more heartwarming, too, but it’s another spoiler.

Apart from Amy, the one character who I think benefits most from this is Silver. This is his cutest, dorkiest, most endearing iteration yet, and I am here for it! Top two images are from issue 8, and the gardening segments below them are from IDW’s 2019 annual. It has some cute Silver/Blaze moments, and it doesn’t have any real spoilers for the main series. You can read it independently. It’s $3.99 on IDW’s website.

(Issue 8 artist - Evan Stanley, colorist - Matt Herms) (Annual 2019 artists - Jonathan Gray, Jack Lawrence, Jennifer Hernandez, and Diana Skelly)

I can’t help but smile whenever I see him. He’s cute in other iterations, too, but I always picture IDW when I write Silver.

Oh, and one last thing: after Amy and Silver’s cute meeting in Sonic 06, I headcanoned that she has a tendency to mother him. It fits well into the Shadamy-Descendent-Silver theory (y’know, that concept that was “sarcastically” suggested by Ian Flynn, Mr. IDW himself?), and I incorporated it into Shellshock. It was only after I’d gotten into the habit of writing them that way that I read further in IDW and ran into instances like these (spoilers removed):

(Issue 14 artist - Tracy Yardley, colorist - Leonardo Ito) (Issue 25 artist - Adam Bryce Thomas, colorist - Matt Herms)

And she is always the one to do this. No one else mothers him like this. Headcanon confirmed! Three points for the descendant theory!

[moonandstars19]

Thoughts of you

A/N: so I've been listening to glimpse of us by Joji on repeat, clearly I was doing too much cause all of that birthed this. Also, this is my first time actually posting on here so please don't be too harsh 😗

Warning: Depending on what angle you look at this from it could be a little angsty

Cherry blossoms dotted multiple trees, frequently fluttered to the ground with every gust of wind that blew. Katakuri stared at the delicate flowers unable to decide if he found their presence comforting or annoying, on one hand many of his happy memories with you had involved cherry blossoms and he was finding that recalling them was keeping him grounded through the day. On the other hand the flowers he'd associated with joy, romance and serenity being involved in a situation that couldn't be further from those things felt like a constant massive middle finger. Katakuri was debating this thought when the feeling of a hand on his arm pulled him back to reality and made him turn his attention to the part of his arm where the contact had been and was still being made. His eyes fell on the small hands of the woman beside him who was currently looking up at him with soft eyes that reflected her worry, apparently, she'd been attempting to get his attention for about a minute or two but he'd been too occupied in his own thoughts to realise this. The sweet commander offered the woman an apology along with the excuse that he was just worn out from all the work he'd been forced to cram and finish in a short time. He barely heard her say something about better time management and preventing overwork but all Katakuri took note of was her expression and the way it relaxed indicating that the excuse had worked, satisfied with that he was about to return to his internal debate when he noticed the pink petal in her hair, for most it wouldn't mean much but for him, it did. Sitting there, staring at her and that stray cherry blossom in her hair he couldn't help but begin to think of you, he remembered your first date, how the cherry blossoms had been in full bloom, the single stray cherry blossom that had landed in your hair and how he'd taken it out. Most importantly he remembered how you had laughed, oh your laugh, he missed that sweet melodic laugh more than words could possibly explain. He was somewhat ashamed to admit it but she reminded him of you, perhaps it was less her reminding him of you and more him wishing you were by him instead of her but regardless of the reason behind his memories and feelings one thing that was certain was the fact that he rarely ever saw her for her, whenever he looked at her he could only see her as the woman who'd taken your spot or the woman his mother had forced by his side and this was when he wasn't recalling memories of you both.

Forced relationships for the betterment of the crew were not a strange or new concept to the Charlotte children so a lot of them had resigned themselves to thoughts of political marriages bound by nothing but necessity and loyalty to their mother. Until he'd met you Katakuri himself had fallen into this category, he'd believed that true love and acceptance weren't things he'd find but you had shown him that even he could be loved wholly and truly without having to put on a perfection act and despite the traits he'd thought were flaws. On the day he'd realised what unconditional love was like it had felt like so much was happening at once, you had come to the castle to drop off some pastries for a tea party; you were one of the very few pâtissiers outside the castle whose talents were recognised and as such you were therefore required to aid the kitchen when big mum had her hunger pangs or when orders for the kitchen had piled high. In fact, the very first time he'd seen you was during his mother's hunger pangs, you'd been run past him multiple times covered in flour and cradling supplies in your arms, but that's just a side note. On this specific day you had been handing in some pastries and had decided to drop by Katakuri's office. You had a very questionable habit of barging into people's spaces when you'd reached a certain comfort level with them and as far as you were concerned that comfort level had long since been reached with Katakuri. You threw the door to his office open to reveal the other party snacking on a plate of doughnuts. For Katakuri his mind was thrown into a frenzy as he tried to comprehend what had happened and how he should deal with it, he was going to tell you anyway so was this alright? But was he ready for the possible rejection? Could he perhaps give a compelling enough speech to make you stay? But as he mind raced you just smiled up at him and told him you had wanted to check up on him.

"But it's weird though, you said you never ate in here." You furrowed your brows and tilted your head to the side, nothing but curiosity clouding your face.

Katakuri looked at the doughnut he'd been holding then turned to you and then back to the doughnut. "I was stress eating." His response was slower and more unsure than one would expect from him

"That's not good, you should probably take a break at some point. If you need help you can always call me up, I'll help handle the minor stuff."

"No, it's alright."

"The offer still stands though." You leaned against the door still smiling up at him. "I guess I should end my welfare check here but make sure to come down to my café when you've got a minute to yourself."

"Yeah."

You blew him a kiss before leaving, Katakuri sat there for a long time with his doughnut still held to his mouth as he tried to process the information. You hadn't reacted? But was that because you were afraid to anger him? Were you just faking? What if he did go see you and there was nothing there but disgust on your end? So he stayed away from you for a couple of weeks until eventually he dragged himself down to your café where the both of you had an actual chat about his mouth and your feelings towards him. You had been shocked he'd thought you would leave him because of a factor he had no control over then you'd sat by his side and assured him that you found every part of him gorgeous. That was when he'd begun to fall in love, eventually your relationship had reached a point where he'd complain about his stress to you and even lay on his back when he was positive it was just the two of you. He wasn't quite sure when he'd begun to imagine a future and family with you but he had and yet despite his wishes there he was with some other woman. He'd tried to love the woman his mother had thrust into his life, they'd spent months together and for the most part he'd acted and responded to her like he would have to you but despite him attempting to forcefully drop his walls not only could he not bring himself to be the true him around her he also continued to feel nothing for her; he was certain she was in love and he was certain she believed him to be in love, at least to a certain degree, but he wasn't.

"Big brother!" Pudding basically shouting for him had disrupted his train of thought, he turned to see his sister with her arms crossed over her chest as she pouted up at him.

"Are you okay Pudding?"

"I've been calling for you for ages now"

"Oh, I apologize for not being attentive."

Pudding immediately lightened up at his apology. It's alright, you've had a busy day. I was just going to ask if you and Crystal were ready for your dance."

Katakuri turned to the woman beside him who was fiddling with the skirt of her simple white dress as a light pink hie dusted her cheeks .

"Only if she wants to." Honestly speaking he didn't want to dance but to avoid causing a fuss he'd left the option to her.

She stopped fiddling with her skirt and looked up at him with nervous but happy grey eyes . "I'd love to."

"Perfect! I'll go tell Perospero to announce it."

Minutes later Katakuri and crystal were at the centre of attention as they danced alone, his arm on her waist and hers round his neck. She beamed up at him and he stared down at her as he led her effortlessly in the dance. He wondered if you and him would have had a dance, he doubted it, he was ten feet taller than you meaning he'd have probably had to carry you to make things go smoother but he knew you would have hated all those people watching you while he did that so he'd have ended up scrapping the dance all together despite you arguing about how you didn't mind the discomfort since it would be temporary.

"Today is our day, we only get married once and I'd prefer it if all your memories were of you having a great time." He'd have said

"But it's just one dance." You would have argued.

"And it's precisely cause it's just a dance that we can skip it."

You would have sighed, maybe pouted a little but then your lips would slowly turn up giving way to a barely there smile. He imagined you would have been an image of pure and perfect beauty, he knew you'd have picked a somewhat extravagant and glittery wedding dress, he also knew you'd have selected heels you couldn't walk in. He could see you wearing them for the first five minutes before changing into slippers, sandals or just completely ditching shoes altogether. Had it been you two getting married the mood would have been lighter, it wouldn't have been worn down by the political undertones that this one was being weighed down by; he wondered how a day like that would have felt. After the dance with his real bride came to an end he gently took her hand and led her back to their seat, she wasn't his bride of choice but such was the faith of a Charlotte, he'd try to know her, he'd try to fall for her but with how he kept thinking about the you, the girl he truly loved, he doubted Crystal would ever be able to have his heart.

[sinistarz]

Okay, time for a real post 👁

Wheeeeew its been a while. Shorter than my last break but certainly felt much longer, a lot has happened in the span of nearly two months. A lot has changed, some stress left some stress came anew. But I don't want to talk too much about that

What I do wanna talk about is that I came back to 1,100 followers?? Where did y'all come from? I appreciate it so much that even in my absence you guys have stuck around, and even grown in numbers. It means a ton. I genuinely am so thankful, it puts a big idiot smile plastered right across my face. I love it. I'm always nervous about taking a break because I worry I'm letting you guys down, I post so frequently and then all of a sudden I post lowly and then not at all, I know it can be irritating. But as much time as I spend on line there's a big world outside of it that I need to focus on. Sometimes at least

I'll probably still be a bit shoddy with activity, mostly because something happened in my personal life that I don't want to disclose too much about, but it is a very good thing and it's going to take up a lot of my free time. Like I said, trust me, it's a good thing. But that doesn't mean I'm going to hold from drawing.

I say that because, when I was running this blog, I was the most motivated I had ever been to create content. Genuinely, every single day when I woke up I wanted to draw. It was really therapeutic for me and I enjoyed it, and every time I have abandoned this blog my desire to draw goes out the window. Of course I do need to take breaks from this blog to focus on my personal life, but whenever I do I'm less motivated to create. I did create things here and there but I didn't really share them as much, mostly because I wasn't proud of most of it. But a step in the right direction is being happy about the things you make.

On that note of creativity I need to get something else off my chest. I've had a long and hard thought about coming back to this blog, I've been nervous to do so because this blog felt so "obligatory" to keep up. By that I mean it's totally became less about making art and more about posting content on a regular basis, even when I wasn't proud of it just so I could have something to post. There's a lot of you I want to make happy and it's difficult to do when I have to keep a narrow tunnel vision with content.

What I mean is, I know a massive chunk of you, if not 1,000 of you followed me specifically for DC content. And I can understand why, the whole reason I made this blog was because I got back into the nick of drawing again and DC was my main motivator. Trust me it still is a huge motivator, comic books and cartoons are some of my favourite things in the whole world, and that's something that's never going to change. But because so many of you followed me for a specific reason, I've always been nervous about posting anything relating to other topics because I wasn't sure if it would drive others away.

So I'm going to be posting art and other content relating to not just DC ( course the DC art will continue, Batman is one of my biggest interests) but a bunch of other interests as well I want to make content for.

I've been nervous to post art/content relating to other fandoms or interests because I'm worried that it would clog up the feed of people who followed me for a specific thing, but at the end of the day I don't mean to sound like a dick but this is my blog, and I want to share what I make on my blog. And I hope you guys understand that, I still appreciate you guys so unbelievably much and I cherish it always that you guys have stuck around.

Call this a fresh start for the blog, I understand some people might be upset but I want to express my creative side a lot more than before. As I said DC content will still be posted, I love posting content for it. But there's just so much more I want to make and share.

If it's any comfort I will be tagging everything I post accordingly relating to the sources it's from, so if you ever see something you don't like that I post you're welcome to blacklist the tags so only the content on my blog you want to see gets filtered in!

On that note, a very late happy New Year, and I hope everyone is doing and do as well today.

[shaldreth]

Hey, Shald here with more info people didn't ask for! o/ First off, thank you for the suggestions, and please know we'll be taking them. This is not intended to be an "Um, Actually" response. I know we have a few other game devs who follow us, so I'm giving extra details in the hope it may help others in our same situation. tl;dr at the bottom. Advertising Women of Xal's first Kickstarter (and the game ever since) has been one of our bigger hurdles, and I'm here to tell you why. First and foremost: We don't have an employee dedicated to social media and advertising. We desperately need one, tbh, but... well, if you've seen my other posts on how much money WoX has made over the years, you know.

So, "free" visibility boosts! Let's start with the ones Anon recommended, and then branch out.

English Otome Games - This blog does already reblog our official updates! :) Massive kudos to their staff for being on top of things. https://www.englishotomegames.net/search/Women%20of%20Xal

Blerdy Otome - I've contacted them! We'll let you know if anything comes of it. \o/

Otome Kitten - Otome Kitten only reviews commercial games, according to their FAQ. Which is fair and also very common. It's the same reason Women of Xal won't show up in our VA's history on any of the professional voice acting sites - like IMDB!

Reddit - Reddit. Oh, reddit.

I frequent reddit myself. When I first began researching where to advertise our game in 2020-2021, reddit was one of the first places I looked. Although every subreddit is different, a few common themes emerged.

First, most gaming subreddits have strict rules against self-promotion. This can include needing to be an active member of the sub for a certain amount of time, karma gates, only posting in megathreads on a certain day of the week and not more than once a month... all stuff that can make it difficult for indie devs to get their game seen. So unless we want to buy karma bot accounts and post a bunch of fake fan engagement (we don't want to do this), the best way for our game to get noticed on reddit is *for other people to post about it.* Organically.

Second, many have strict definitions of the types of games they'll allow, and our ratio of male love interests to female love interests has gotten us in trouble in the past. Apparently having a roughly equal ratio of male to female LIs disqualifies the game from being both an otome and an otoge game, under some definitions. Having male LIs at all can disqualify us from being a yuri game. :(

And thirdly, game dev subreddits are great, but... really only frequented by other game devs. u_u On the bright side, some of the subs I looked at 5 years ago (oof....) seem to have changed their rules, and even more new ones have popped up! So here's a quick summary of the subreddits I went through this week.

r/otomegames - We posted the first game's Kickstarter and demo on this subreddit years ago, and got around 50 upvotes. I think this sub used to have a rule that "otome" games were only those with more male LIs than female, but that rule no longer seems to be in their FAQ. So yay! They have "Self Promotion Sundays" where devs can post in a megathread, which I will be checking out.

r/visualnovels - We posted the first game's Kickstarter and demo here as well, and got even less interest than on r/otomegames. Their sidebar reads: "Do not post here if your purpose is to advertise your projects. This is a place to discuss VNs, not shill," and notes that update posts should be limited to major milestone updates. Our goal *is* to advertise, and I'm not comfortable pretending otherwise just to circumvent that.

r/indiegames - Does not allow adult content. I'm not actually sure if this means you can't share games with an adult rating or if you just can't post adult content on the subreddit directly, but most of the posts do seem to be the "E for Everyone" kind, so I'll consider posting with caution.

r/indiegaming - Calls out the reddit-wide self-promotion rule stating "If over 10% of your submissions are your own site/content/affiliate links, you're almost certainly a spammer," and "It's perfectly fine to be a redditor with a website, it's not okay to be a website with a reddit account." I think they'd look unfavorably upon us posting from our company's reddit account.

r/kickstarter - One promotion per project, and breaking the rules gets you blacklisted. We did post the original game's Kickstarter on here and got... 3 votes. :') tl;dr: The best way to get your game noticed is to have fans talk about it, which is why companies spend so much money on fake fan engagement (aka astroturfing). Most people (correctly) see game dev's self-promotion posts as an attempt to advertise, and I get it.

Hi! For getting your Kickstarter out there, have you considered contacting some of the bigger otome game sites and blogs? Like English Otome Games, Blerdy Otome, or Otome Kitten? Or even posting on the otome game subreddit? I'm not sure what the gender proportion of the love interests in the game are, but those places will definitely all be able to give your Kickstarter a big visibility boost!

Definitely, and thank you for pointing out more of the places I can go! We'll need all the help we can get. Hopefully we'll have more bites than the last reach out. \o/

[incorrectfbaaquotes]

FAQ about the blog

Note: This blog is not spoiler safe! Spoilers may be contained in all posts for the entire series! Proceed with caution.

Hi and welcome to my shitposting side project! I hope you enjoy your time here.

I have had several questions through replies, asks, and DM's inquiring about certain things pertaining to this blog (how often I post, where the quotes come from, tags, etc.) and I just wanted to fill everyone in on them in one central post so there's not a bunch of different posts and reblogs. And don't mind the rainbow colors scattered throughout. It's spring here and I'm feeling it.

If this does not pertain to you, and you're just here for the giggles, please ignore this post and move along!

Why is this blog even here?

This blog was started as a way to make me smile. I started doing this in my primary blog's drafts shortly after TWOTQ was released to make myself giggle, but it was getting really crowded in there, and I had a 3AM thought. If it makes me laugh, it might make someone else laugh too.

So here's how this blog works :

Questions about Posting :

I post once daily at about 12:00pm (noon) EST. Sometimes, when I'm adding to the queue, I'll find one that I really like and want to post one earlier, but generally speaking, once daily.

I am not currently taking submissions as I'm working through my exorbitant number of backlogged drafts as it is. I'm really trying not to inundate the standard character tags with this blog.

I've been asked if I play favorites with who I choose for quotes. No. I don't. At all. I certainly have favorite characters, but I try to keep things pretty spread evenly as far as I can. There are some characters that are bound to end up with more quotes because they're more central characters: Poppy, Casteel, Kieran, Sera, Nyktos, etc. We simply have spent more time with these characters so we know them better and have more situations between them.

Sources for Incorrect Quotes :

This question has come up SEVERAL times, especially with anons.

All quotes featured on this blog come from third party sources. I have never, nor will I ever, claim these quotes sourced by other people as my own creation. My sole contribution, and why they're posted here in the first place, is misquoting them under the guise of characters from Jennifer L. Armentrout's Blood & Ash and Flesh & Fire series.

I try to always remember to source where I found the quote in the tags of the post. This is not always (frequently) the originator of that quote. If the original source is brought to my attention, I will also tag them in the tags along with where I found it in the first place. I firmly believe in giving credit where credit is due.

Also of note, any of these FBAA related that happen to coincide with something that someone already posted, here or somewhere else, is completely coincidental. I do my best to try and not post one if it's already been posted by someone else, but I'm not perfect. If anyone notices this, please let me know and I will remove mine immediately!

Tags on Posts

Characters : Any time a character is used or mentioned in a post, they will be tagged with their name (full name, if available). If there are multiple derivatives of the name, those will likely be tagged as well (Penellaphe Balfour/Poppy Balfour/Poppy Da'Neer; Seraphena Mierel/Sera Mierel; etc.).

Books : I try to tag whatever books may be relevant to the post. FBAA is the most frequent book I tag as I see it as the base book for the fandom. However, for the most part, I try to keep the series separated if necessary and only tag books where the context of the quote may play into it (if something is AKOFAF specific, for instance).

Spoilers : Some of the quotes I've released after TWOTQ hold some relevance to events that happened within that book. Due to the book being newly released, I've been tagging anything remotely spoilery for that book with a "twotq spoilers" tag. I will likely do the same thing if this blog is still alive when ALITF comes out in the fall and for any subsequent releases for a several month period after that book was released.

NSFW: Sometimes, rarely, posts may include themes or, more likely, words not suitable for younger audiences or for workplace viewing. Though this blog (and the books) are not intended for younger readers, in an effort to be more mindful, posts containing these will be tagged with nsfw (not safe for work).

Anything going forward that I may post or respond to here that isn't an incorrect quote will be tagged with "#not fbaa" or "not an incorrect qutoe"- Real life shit happens sometimes, folks. This is for that inevitability, but also applies to this post here. I don't plan on frequently posting anything other than quotes here. I like this blog for what it is. But in case that happens...

Sources : I tag the sources in the tags with "source: [thing]. I have had people in the past reblog a post of mine attaching the originating source onto it instead of the one where I found it. If this is brought to my attention, after verifying the claim because internet, I will add that tag to my original post.

Okay, but what are your sources?

Generators : I've used these two incorrect quote generators (Scatterpatter's and Perchance) in the past. They have great variety and the quotes are defaulted to anonymous persons.

Pinterest : I've pinned so many of the damned things on Pinterest that I'm now inundated with the damned things every time I log on, so there as well.

Other incorrect quote blogs: If I'm struggling to come up with one, despite my absolutely massive collection of drafts, I will surf other incorrect quote sources and find a favorite or two. There are some really great ones out there. Some of my favorites include @incorrectgreeks (Twitter), @lesbian-deadpool (tumblr), and @incorrectnessduskwood (tumblr).

...everything else : And finally, I've pulled quotes from Vine and TikTok compilations, movies and tv shows, Twitter, other books, and the like. I was watching Frozen with my mom again a while back (my momma loves Olaf. Bugger off) and when he mentions that he had been impaled by the icicle, all I could think of was Duke Teerman.

Thank you!

Thank you all sincerely from the bottom of my heart for taking part in this blog, whether it was a like, reblog, reply, or follow. These past few months have been tough in the real world for me and you have no idea what having this space has meant.

[mcyt-imagines]

hi hi ! first off, just a tip if you'd like more requests/asks in general you should prob turn on anon since this is like the only time i've sent a non-anon ask. but anyways, i'm assuming requests are open and i'd like to ask if you would write either just ranboo fluff in general or something like the tommy confession headcanons but w ranboo :D what you've posted so far is great <3

Thank you so much for letting me know! I thought I had anon turned on already, but it’s 100% turned on now! Regarding your request I got a little carried away and wrote both some general fluff and some confession headcanons for Ranboo so this post is a little long... Hope you enjoy! :D

(It’s important to note that these headcanons are a combination of ones pertaining to his Minecraft character in the dsmp and him outside of the dsmp roleplay!)

General Ranboo Fluff

- Dreamsmp Ranboo -

The first time Ranboo cries in front of you is when you confess to him and he is so happy and relieved that you reciprocate his feelings. He even smiles through the pain of his tears as you panic to cover the skin beneath his eyes, so your hands catch his tears to stop the pain.

Ranboo likes to ask if you need any resources from time to time and once you finally give in and answer, he spends the rest of his day trying to collect as much of it as he can. This has led to a few incidents in which you came back to your shared indent in the snowy mountain to find a chest stacked full with polished stone and countless ores. You’ve scolded him but the way he responds with big puppy dog eyes wishing to “just be helpful.” Sets the butterflies caged in your chest free every damn time.

Ranboo in addition to asking you for want you want he is also very observant in noticing what you need. Any tools close to breaking? Brilliant, he’s already got three more of the same tools ready for you to grab when you need it. He also names them using the anvil to some silly super cheesy pet names.

One of his favourite things to do with you is stargaze. You both travel to the top of your snowy mountain and clear out a space free of snow to lie down and simply hold each other. Ranboo has started asking Techno (on the nights you are away) to point out the stars and tell him their corresponding stories. He happily relays all of this information to you in exaggerated detail, looking at you in awe as your expressions change with the twinkling lights above.

Ranboo almost always carries a little umbrella around with him in case it begins to rain. Most of his friends notice and all start to buy him some. He now has a full collection that line his wall just next to the door. It’s those small things that allows him to remember who his real friends are.

Ranboo LOVES having his hair played with. He will fall asleep within minutes of you beginning to tousle his hair as he rests his head in your lap. He may make soft enderman noises, but you don’t dare tell him. Content on keeping that little secret to yourself.

Ranboo has to be kinda careful around snow considering that if it melts it will hurt him. Meaning he has to sit out on any snowball fights that occur. And they occur more frequently than you would think. It usually starts with Phil throwing a rogue snowball at Techno when Phil notices him slumping his shoulders. Which means it doesn’t take long until it’s a full-blown war. You usually find yourself smack bang in the middle of it and have to dive down to avoid getting pummelled in the crossfire. Ranboo will call you over to hide behind Techno’s house. As the onslaught continues between the two. you giggle and commentate over the fierce battle together.

- Outside of Dreamsmp Ranboo - 

Ranboo enjoys watching you whenever you are focused on something. He’s incredibly observant and finds himself mimicking the small little nuances he sees you exhibit. He gets incredibly flustered whenever you notice that he’s picked up on them, but he doesn’t bother to deny it.

Ranboo finds himself staring at you a lot. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. You catch him frequently, “Watching me real closely, hm?” He tries to stutter out an answer to defend himself, but you just smile and tell him it’s okay.

Ranboo finds a lot of comfort in doing ‘domestic’ activities with you. However, one of his personal favourites is when the two of you go out to get groceries together. His mum will give him a small list and he’ll try his best to dawdle around the store whilst swinging your intertwined hands to make the visit as long as possible. It makes him think of a future in which the two of you get to do this every single week and that alone warms his heart.

Ranboo always has to be near you, he doesn’t have to be physically touching you but he prefers to just be stupidly close to you. It always makes you laugh when he sits just close enough to you that you don’t touch, so now he has to do it forever.

Your laugh is one of his favourite sounds. To the point that if you giggle or laugh at something, he will just keep doing it over and over again for as long as you keep laughing at it. Which eventually leads to the both of you red-faced and gasping for air.

Ranboo is a terrible cook. But he tries so hard to follow recipes and they always flop. He also for some reason, cannot attempt cooking without making an utter mess of himself. Whether it’s spilling flour all over himself, getting egg yolk splatter somehow in his hair or just spilling copious amounts of milk on the floor so that he slips. This boy is a walking, talking kitchen DISASTER. So now he can only cook with you supervising him. Which turns out, wasn’t as much of a punishment as it should have been. As your tutelage seems to have slightly improved his cooking skills. However, now you also get flour spilt all over you as well.

Ranboo Confession Headcanons

- Realising he likes you - 

Ranboo denies he has feelings for you at first. Believing that you’re just a good friend whose company he really enjoys. But the more he focuses on your friendship the quicker he realises he would prefer if you were more to him than that.

This thought alone sends him into a little bit of a spiral for a few days. Grappling with the thought of rejection and the guilt he would feel if he ever hurt you.

He spends most of the time grappling with his feelings he continues to try and act as normal as possible around you. You finding out would be his worst nightmare.

Ranboo realises he has absolutely no history in the dating department and desperately needs some guidance. He may ask Phil on a whim who would try his best to give the poor panicked boy some words of wisdom. Ranboo takes the advice to heart immediately, promising Phil he will update him on how his feelings for you turn out.

Ranboo finds himself writing about you in one of his many journals. He finds putting words on the page seems to help clear his mind. He tries to script his confession a few times. Desperately floundering to find the right words, but he always seems to fall short. He usually ends up scribbling all over those pages until you can barely tell someone had even written on them. Hoping to somehow erase the thoughts in the process.  

He even tries drawing you a few times when he finds himself with enough spare time. He doesn’t think they’re any good though. Sure, the sketches look like you, but they don’t make him feel the way you do. When he looks at the page his chest doesn’t tighten because of your beauty, but instead because of the way you’ve made him feel. Which he comes to the sad conclusion is something he simply cannot capture in his words or his drawings. He has to show it through his actions. Not exactly his strong suit. But he’s determined to do right by you. So, he devises a plan.

- Confessing to you - 

This boy plans the whole day down to a t, he has multiple back-up plans just in case his first one falls short.

Ranboo invites you over for lunch. Arriving at his place you notice how clean it is. He spent the last few days cleaning it top to bottom.

You spend a few minutes in the house chatting. You notice Ranboo is on edge almost immediately. Shoulders a pinch too tight, his smiles a little too wide and none of them reach his eyes.

You ask what you’re going to be having for lunch and he reveals a wicker basket from his kitchen. “A picnic!” Your heart warms, “I would’ve brought something if you’d told me beforehand.” He smiles at that, “Exactly. I even cooked without you, you should be proud.” 

He shuffles on his feet a little, wishing to be praised, “We’ll see how the food tastes first, maybe then I’ll tell you how proud I am.” You tease, moving to elbow him lightly. You notice the way his face flushes as you move into his space. His mother appears from upstairs, “Are you two leaving? I could drive you, y’know!” “No thanks mom!!” He is quick to grab your hand and practically drag you out of the house and away from his all knowing mom.

The bus ride is on the longer side and you find yourself feeling brave enough to scoot a little closer to Ranboo. “Hey, is it okay if I?” You gesture between your head and his shoulder, the cute, shocked expression he sends you causes you to grin. “Uh s-sure!” 

You softly press your head against his shoulder, “Thanks, pretty comfy shoulder you got here should’ve asked you to share it sooner.” You tease, nuzzling his shoulder lightly just for a reaction. And you get one alright, his skin goes such a lovely shade of red all the way up to the tips of his ears. You giggle softly, trying your best to hold it in and failing miserably.

You even manage to fall asleep despite your own heartbeat quickening at Ranboo’s closeness. You are tapped awake by him, “Hmm?” You rub one of your eyes knowingly appearing adorable and the way he looks at you makes it all worth it. “It’s our stop soon, we gotta get up.” 

You nod and lazily stand and he follows suit. Only for the bus to brake abruptly, promptly shoving you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you quickly to steady you whilst you desperately cling to the wicker basket, “You okay?” You both mumble to each other before laughing it off and nodding. “Oh crap.” Ranboo grabs your free hand and you both scramble to get to the front of the bus to hop off. Sparks fly up your arm at the extended contact, even as you jump off the bus.

Ranboo happily leads you to a spot he had picked out earlier in the month. A soft patch of grass below a large willow tree that now sways softly in the warm breeze. You set up your carefully packaged feast with haste now that your stomachs are grumbling.

Ranboo forcefully tries to make himself relax knowing you’ve probably noticed his tense state by now. But you choose not to push him on it, taking an educated guess on why he’s so stressed.

You are quick to compliment his cooking skills when he divvies out a freshly baked quiche.  Even though you know his mom for sure did most of the work. It’s the thought that counts. You hope that may snap him out of the stupor he seems to be in. However, no such luck.

“Hey Ranboo, do you want to talk about something?” Ranboo goes into full panic mode. He did not have a plan for you asking something like this. He thought you weren’t confrontational!! You watch as his expression changes rapidly. You look away, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay. I just thought you might want to-“ 

He takes one of your hands in his. Why is he doing this??? This isn’t part of the plan at all! “I…” His throat goes dry. All those hours obsessing over what he was going to say to you are sent out the window when he finally meets your eyes.

“I think I like you.” He hasn’t realised he’s even said it until its waaaaaay too late. Your eyes widen, you didn’t think he’d actually admit it to you. You squeeze his hand as you watch his eyes seem to lose focus, “I like you too.” He is silent for several long moments until he starts blinking rapidly, “Huh!?” The look of utter surprise on his face causes you to burst out laughing.

“Wait, wait, wait you’re serious?” He grabs your arm as a grin slowly starts to creep onto his face. “Sure am.” And as you meet his gaze you realise that his grin actually reached his eyes, for the first time in a long while. 

“So, you gonna kiss me now or what?” You tease as his face shines a dark red. “W-well I, uh-“ His stuttering only allows for you to sneak closer and press a firm kiss to his cheek. Somehow, he grows even redder and you sigh pleasantly. ���My heart definitely made the right choice with you Ranboo.”

Meanwhile Ranboo is too busy freaking out over the fact that you weren’t even meant to find out he liked you until you were stargazing together later tonight. His plans are utterly ruined! But as you squeeze his hand again to bring his thoughts back into the present, he wonders that perhaps spontaneity isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.

~My ask box is always open if you’ve got any requests or just want to vent about the dreamsmp lore!~

[the-amber-droid-dreams]

wait so not aggressive or trying to start a full blown debate here but in regards to your last post, what is an mspec lesbian? i've also heard the term thrown around in twitter discourse and the like but still have no clue wtf it is if you could explain in like,, very simplified terms i'd really appreciate that

ofc anon ! always happy to help

this post is usually my go to for definitions, resources, exclu talking points, and history but ill try to expand a bit on those definitions here with my own experiences to help along and make it more understandable

(its gonna be a long post though sorry, its kinda hard to make it short while also making it as understandable as possible !)

-

oh and quick note : mspec stands for multi attraction spectrum aka labels like bi, pan, omni, etc. NOT for male spectrum

-

Split attraction

Yk how ace ppl arent always aro ? Thats called split attraction, and its not just an ace thing. Some ppl are for example homoromantic bisexual or panromantic homosexual and might call themselves mspec lesbians. Personally, im romantically attracted to all genders but sexually attracted to only women !

Mspec lesbian is easier, quicker, and more comfortable to say than the whole "mspecromantic homosexual". Plus barely anyone calls themself a homosexual anymore unless its a joke or theyre a "homosexual female" terf which is,,, yuck

Huge preference towards women

Some ppl like multiple genders but their attraction towards men is so rare that theyre functionally a lesbian

The only time i was ever attracted to a man (in a non comphet way) was a purely romantic crush at 14

I dont want to completely ignore that side of me, bc i Am mspec and i do have the potential to be attracted to all genders, but at the end of the day, my attraction to women is much more frequent and important to me

Calling myself a lesbian just makes sense to me. It communicates what i want it to which is "i like women"

Im not sure ill ever like a man again, so calling myself just mspec feels a bit strange to say the least nor does it communicate what i want

Calling myself both mspec And a lesbian is like saying "i like women !! ,,,and maybe more" which is the most accurate and true to myself

Liking multiple genders that dont include men / Liking women and nonbis

"But nonbis are included in lesbianism !!" and youd be right to say that ! However, not all nonbis are comfortable being put under the lesbian label

Also, lots of ppl seem to define lesbianism as "attraction to women and nonmen" which is,,, not a great definition and just creates a new binary

Nonbis come in a million different flavors and not all of them fit in the "non men" category. What abt transmascs, genderfluid ppl who are sometimes men, and mutligender ppl who are part men ? Are they included in lesbianism ? If not, what do you call someone whos attracted to women and all nonbis but not binary men ?

For a lot of people, the answer to those questions is mspec lesbianism

Reclamation of historical definition

Lesbian didnt always mean exclusive attraction to women. It was used a lot more like sapphic is today. However, this changed with the rise of political lesbianism and lesbian seperatism

Political lesbianism is a political theory that was spearheaded by cis white lesbian terfs in the 60s and 70s, such as Sheila Jeffreys. Its the idea that sexuality is a choice, and that women should choose to be lesbians to free themselves from the patriarchy. It considered lesbians to be ideologically superior to wlm

Lesbian seperatism is a severe form of political lesbiansnism, and is the idea that women should have little to no contact with men at all

This hurt a lot of ppl including mspec women (for liking men), trans women (for being amab) and woc (for working with men of color towards liberation)

It was gross all around and mspecs were pushed out of their own communities. After all that and stonewall, we started getting more bi exlusive groups and orgs which is really wonderful ! Still, some ppl werent too happy and chose to call themselves lesbians or bi lesbians regardless

The trend of reclamation has been ongoing since then and theres tons of historical examples

-

theres some other definitions like fluid attraction and questioning between mspec and lesbian but i think those cover the main ones !

if you have any questions, or would like me to clear anything up dont hesitate to ask :]

[destronlok]

Old Dungeons and Dragons rules discussed #1

Here's a weird rule in the original edition of D&D. I've been wanting to write and ramble about this for ages.

This is always crazy to look at today, because the average D&D game typically would have only four people and would rarely go above 7-8 maybe 10 in exceptional cases.

But Fifty?

There is a reason for this, and his nothing to do with Gary Gygax's consumption of cocaine and marijuana at the time.

From all my readings, this is what I've concluded about this ruling.

D&D was not meant to be played with the same group week to week. It could be, but it was easier and more likely that you played with whoever was available at the time. Players would come in and out frequently and by the end of a long campaign, you might actually approach this number.

(Side note: I think fifty is based on the size of large wargaming groups in the 70s.)

So the DM would set up his campaign and just play with whoever was there, maybe even swapping roles with a player on account of that ratio.

Bear in mind as well that in this edition, the DM was meant to keep track of ability scores for each player so 1:20 is probably just them picking a number that was the most they were comfortable keeping track of.

Here's what I want to say: What can we learn from this when we play RPGs today? Well we can start thinking more broadly about how to accommodate a larger group of people.

The rules go on to explain more of this, but I can only agree with what's been said by others.

In D&D the DM made a setting, not a story. Players would explore that setting and stories would be generated dynamically.

So you could change players frequently, and if you couldn't fit all the characters into one of the stories or settings,

you'd just create more characters (and the other rules supported this idea) as there appears to be an expectation that players might have more than one character.

Since the players don't have to be the same each time, and the setting is consistent, if you played like this, you wouldn't have to worry about scheduling difficulties ever again, so long as you can meet a minimum number of players.

But also consider players who might want to only play one time, and not really commit to a whole story, this style of play is for them! These more casual players can help fill out your group numbers and no one has to worry about missing any future sessions (this is also supported by additional rules explained in AD&D) Thanks for reading up until this point, I might post more of these later, as there's so much to be learnt from the way the game was played in the past.

For further reading, please check out Questing Beast, Matt Colville and The Alexandrian's article