#I made these a while ago but I don't think I posted them so here we go uwu

[frownyalfred]

Nearly all my AO3 bookmarks are unhinged (positive) comments for my organization system, and I need you to know that, unironically, a non zero numbers of my bookmarks of your stuff is stuff like, “No Alfred chopping wood, 6.5/10”, “Hal jumpscare. Have learned something about myself today. 8.43/10”, or “Is a WIP. Mean :( 4/10”

The number-crunching process is…intricate, lol.

My bookmarks are also entirely private. I only bookmark writing I love, but I don’t wanna accidentally upset someone when they reasonably interpret things differently, you know? Especially w/authors like you who have written enough for some serious variety and might be worried about people reacting immaturely to new kinds of fic.

I enjoy everything you put out, both for the stuff I found you for (SuperBat for days) and things I honestly used to consider a squick of mine (You have rewritten my brain with your A/B/O AUs)!

I appreciate both your rating system and your care in making sure it's private to prevent misunderstandings. I think I'd be 90% more chill about ratings in bookmarks if they gave an explanation like you described -- though I don't speak for all authors and sometimes the rating itself, even with context, is a slap in the face.

I do think you bring up an important thought here. So much of our tone online is context-dependent, and authors and bookmarkers are sometimes operating in very different circles. Meaning can get lost easily, and feelings can be hurt easily without that being the intention. Keeping things private unless we're certain the author won't be hurt makes the most sense to me right now, until we come up with a better system.

An example of this came to me as I was writing this reply. A few months ago I had someone reblogging my posts on here and tagging them "pedantic." And while yes, I agree that most of my posts are probably a little pedantic, that still stung. I mean, pedantic? You think I'm pedantic? That's all you have to say about it? Why are you reblogging it then?

So I went to their blog, read their pinned post, and realized they had a complex tagging system set up for archiving. "Pedantic" was their own tag for posts that were either longer than a paragraph, or that got into greater detail about certain topics. Their explanation/tag summary made perfect sense after that, but from my POV back on my own blog? All I get is the "pedantic" which again, didn't feel great.

That's all to say -- reader and writer relationships are a push and pull, a constant evaluation of ourselves and others, and we should seek to be kind and perhaps overly cautious when possible. Too many things already get lost in translation here on the internet.

[chronurgy]

Taking a look at Dragon Age sales figures -

Origins - 3.2 million copies sold (as of Feb 2010, about 4 months after its launch)

Two - 2 million copies sold (as of two months after launch)

Inquisition - over 12 million copies sold (10 years post-release, unfortunately I can't find a more comparable time frame for sales)

Veilguard - 1.5 million "players reached" (about 3 months post-release, expectation for 3 million copies sold, unclear definition of players reached)

Awhile ago, when the generally positive critical reviews for veilguard came out, I said I was pretty sure bioware would be fine and would make it long enough to at least produce mass effect 5. Now, looking at these stats, I'm not so sure. Dragon age 2 was generally treated as a bit of a commercial flop for bioware, so seeing veilguard undersell it by a minimum of half a million units is not encouraging. Especially when it undersold ea's expectations for it by at least half. And I don't think ea's expectations were unreasonable! Three million in sales would put it in between the first two games and well below inquisition, the game it's a direct sequel to. That honestly feels a little odd, since it would imply that the studio didn't believe they picked up any new fans from inquisition's success.

I think that the 10 year gap was absolutely corrosive to the fan base. I understand why it happened on a development level, but it was an absolutely massive mistake. They completely lost the ability to capitalize on the excitement and name recognition inquisition generated as the incredibly popular game of the year for its direct sequel. Again, I completely understand what happened. I just think that all of the decisions that allowed this to happen (canceling project joplin, generally putting the series in the back burner, etc) were incredibly bad. They lost hype and momentum and ended up with far less in excitement and sales than they could have, especially since they lost a lot of long-time, key employees because of the development hell that ensued. This is on both bioware and ea. Bioware for their incredible mismanagement and just constant bag-fumbling and terrible working conditions and choices generally, and ea for allowing this to happen and generally pushing their studios toward a live-service model (plus all the other general ea fuckery).

It's also worth mentioning the "players reached" wording. That obviously doesn't mean the same thing as "copies sold," which likely means that the game sold less than 1.5 million copies. Admittedly, it's probably worth asking exactly how relevant sales numbers still are as we enter the era of game streaming services. It's genuinely hard to say, and that's going to be an industry-wide shift. But no matter how you slice it, the game clearly didn't do well commercially.

Looking toward the future, the first question has to be not what bioware will learn from this, but if bioware will even survive long enough to learn from this. They've had three poor releases in a row in an industry that isn't exactly forgiving. There have also been a few high profile departures recently, and while that might not be particularly unusual after a game launch, it can't be overlooked entirely. The studio is very much at risk of shutting down at this juncture.

But assuming bioware doesn't shut down, where do they go from here? What lessons will they learn from veilguard's failure? While it clearly wasn't a commercial success, it reviewed fairly well with a metacritic score of 82 (compare Andromeda's score of 71, Inqusition's of 85, origins' of 86, da2's of 79, and the Mass Effect trilogy's low 90s). Player reviews, on the other hand, were more mixed. Will bioware decide they made a good game and players just didn't get it? Andromeda and veilguard's writing definitely had some similarities, so maybe this is just the direction the studio has decided to go in and nothing will shake them from it. Or will they see the feedback and lurch too far in the opposite direction? They have a habit of doing that (they did it with inquisition after da2 and anthem's facial animations after Andromeda, for example). It could be that they decide it needs to be even more generic, even safer, to make sure they get the broadest possible appeal. It could be that they decide they need to double down on the nostalgia factor to attract the players of the older games. I don't know. I don't think anyone really does, at this point.

Honestly, I don't think bioware knows either. The studio clearly has a lot of issues that will take a lot of time, money, and introspection to fix. These issues are likely very entrenched in the studio's culture, and have been present for at least a decade, if not longer. And I don't know that bioware has the resources or the willpower to address them, given the circumstances.

[apricitae-world]

BASHFUL DAWN

Xavier is exhausted after fighting against Soren and reliving his past. You try to help. [XAVIER X READER FLUFF]

THIS POST CONTAINS: Xavier X gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, Xavier is implied to have self-esteem issues, talking about feelings, cuddling and snuggling, my take on "Voyage of the Outcast" story chapter.

Enjoy.

BASHFUL DAWN

After the report of the college incident and the device left by Soren, Xavier had been missing from your life. The last day you two spoke seemed like a dream now, when he promised he would tell you everything.

Xavier always lies. Bile rises to your throat right after you wake up in the morning, plagued by the memories of your (boy)friend. Even though Xavier lived literally on the floor above yours, it seemed an invisible wall had been put between you.

You knocked on his door the following afternoon, but no response. You hadn't seem him in the Hunters Association for work either, Captain Jenna's brow furrowed in concern, but brushing it off like a "well earned rest". When you left the apartment to feed the stray cat, there was already a bowl of food in its telltale place. You visit Philos, inquiring poor Jeremiah to where his friend might have been. The man was sweating cold, saying he didn't know. Things reaching a breaking point when you visited your garden, the one you saved from a Wanderer oh so long ago.

It really felt like he was gone from your life, barely any signal of life to say he was there at all.

After a few days of trying to pick yourself up (Tara truly was a wonderful friend to hear your rants and watch your comfort movies), you see a familiar bedhead leaving a convenience store with five bowls of hotpot in hand.

"Xavier?" His lustrous blond hair was now matted and lifeless. His blue, shiny eyes did not reflect any light anymore, and his lovely white sweater, the one you stole and wore so many times, was almost falling from his shoulders.

He looked terrible.

"Hi." He says, still not meeting your gaze. You wanted to yell, scream, grab him by his arms and ask where the hell he has been. Even so, seeing him like this made your anger deflate like a sad balloon. "Are you okay?" You ask.

Xavier lifts his head, shocked. Guess he wasn't expecting that reaction either. "I was the one who ghosted you. I'm the one who is supposed to be making amends." He concludes and falls silent again. "I'm sorry. I keep messing up."

This version of your lover was nothing short of terrible. You had never seem him look so defeated. "Why didn't you reply to me texts? My calls? I dropped by your place so many times." Street lights and car honks were all around you, but you coudn't find yourself to care. In fact, your world seemed just too quiet.

"Let's go to my place. I guess I owe you an explanation." No more words were exchanged during the walk, and maybe you prefered it that way. The last thing you want is to make a fuss in front of the whole building.

The inside of Xavier's apartment was messy. Some dirty dishes here and there, unfinished books scattered around and no calm music playing. His trustworthy cleaning robot, the one he would not stop talking about a while back, layed gathering dust in a corner. The entire place seemed pretty much unrecognizable.

Xavier put some water to boil for his hotpots and sat beside you on the fluffly couch. "The first thing I should do is apologize. No one should go missing like that, especially after what we went through." You hum. A sign for him to keep going. "I tought things would be better if I tried to solve them by myself. No matter what, I want you to be safe. And happy."

"What makes you think I don't want to be part of this? Of finding things out with you?" You squish his face gently between your hands. He goes limp in your hold, content. "It's dangerous, and I don't even know if my plan will work at all."

"If you tell me what the plan is, then I can help you." You say matter-of-factly and raise a brow. Xavier's face scrunches and he laughs. His voice was a little hoarse, but beautiful as always. How you missed that.

"What do I have to say to make you understand we are in this together? Don't think you're getting rid of me so easily." He closes the distance between you, holding all of your body close against his. "I would never want to get rid of you."

Your lovely silence was interrupted by the sound of metal clanking against each other and the smell of something burning. "Xavier! The water for the hotpot!" You both look at each other with newfound horror before sprinting to the kitchen.

Some things never change.

-

The hotpots were delicious, even if you scolded him for eating instant food for a week straight. You both made a promise to clean the apartment on the following day and start putting things in order. Slowly.

"Thank you for being here. And not being mad." You think a little before replying. "I am mad, I won't deny. But I also like you a lot and don't want to lose what we have. If you promise me to be more open about what you want and what you need, we'll be alright."

"Okay. I'll try." Xavier takes a deep breath. "I love you." Thank goodness your boyfriend didn't have a phone right now, because your face was priceless: eyes open and mouth agape. "I love you too."

You two end up sharing a bed that night. His room was messy like the rest of the house, but you promised to fix it in the morning. As so, all the lights were turned off and you hugged Xavier from under the covers. Everything seemed alright in the world.

When the sun arrived the next morning, you two were still holding each other close. No matter how dark the night, there would always be stars to guide the way, and the morning would surely arrive. You hold Xavier a little tighter and drift back to sleep.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO REQUEST A FANFIC, DRABBLE OR FANART? TRY TIPPING ME ON KO-FI! IT HELPS ME BRING MORE CONTENT LIKE THIS IN THE FUTURE:

[optimisticgrey]

"It has always been you"

Chapter 1: You don't have to do this.

I just collected all the tropes I could think off, threw them in a bucket and gave it a good stir.

Here we are.

We'll have a lot of self-loathing and angst, fluff, romance and the complex topic of polyamory explained to our favourite Professor which will add some drama. Of course, there will be smut. In this case, heavy BDSM stuff. You have been warned but I will add chapter notes.

Yes, they will fall in love but I am trying to do this excruciatingly slow.

This is the most cliché trope heavy shit I have written in my life and I love it.

I decided to post it now before I once again fall into the rabbit hole of over editing.

Basically my interpretation of @evverest "in your neighborhood for your darkest times"

Read on AO3

Pairing: Alternate Universe; Named Tav (Celeste), Professor Gale Dekarios

WC: 5331

Summary:

Alternate, modern universe setting: Gale is a college professor, deeply traumatized by his former relationship. Celeste is a marine biologist, running from her own past. They meet at an airport.

Warnings:

Will be added with the chapters

Song recommandation: Architects - Blackhole

Celeste stared at herself in the mirror. Deep bags under eyes told a story of endless travel and far too little sleep. Makeup might have been a good idea, had she packed any before leaving two years ago.

She had always liked her eyes. One blue, one light green. She thought they added a certain distinction to her features, though she’d quickly learned most people preferred symmetry: symmetrical faces, evenly coloured eyes, predictable beauty. Conventional minds. Nothing she had to offer.

Celeste reached behind her back, pulling the massive braid of black hair over her shoulder. She adjusted it gently, retying the hair tie holding it in place and readjusting some of Halsin’s silver pearls she had woven into it before looking at herself again.

Fuck, girl. Ever heard of concealer?

Her expression was as drawn as she felt. The fine scar under her right eye had nearly vanished in the past years and she had come to accept it. Mostly liked it.

A testament to all she had endured. Freckles had begun to gather around the scar, and they shifted slightly when she smiled. At least her clothes were clean. That was something. In hindsight, though, the dark green silk blouse and slim, high-waisted black pants might not have been the wisest of choices. Comfortable enough for a quick flight, sure, but not for hours of delays, long lines, and shuffling between uncomfortable airport chairs. She should have known better. At least she did not wear high heels.

Still, she couldn’t deny that the outfit gave her an edge. Just enough to make her look like she belonged in the first-class lounge Jen had insisted on upgrading her to. She reached for her earrings, untangling one that had locked into another, and took a final look at herself before grabbing the pill bottle on the counter. Her new favourite drug, the one that had gotten her through this assignment, was finished. Tossing the last pill into her mouth, she swallowed it dry, then slipped the empty container into the pocket of her black coat. She would not need more. Eventually, she would have to rely on coffee again but until then, she could finish some work while she waited for the storm to pass.

If her flight hadn’t been delayed, she’d be home by now, wrapped in a blanket. Scratch at her feet or in her lap, her friends buzzing around her in a room filled with laughter, love and familiarity. Instead, the flickering blue light of an airport bathroom illuminated her features. Celeste sighed, threw on her coat and grabbed her bag. Her phone rang just as she exited the bathroom on her way to the lounge.

A smile broke across her face despite the exhaustion.

“Hey, babe,” she answered lightly. “Just called to hear your voice.” Karlach’s laughter roared in her ear. So deep, it sank into her soul and made her longing for home even more. “How are you holding up?” “Checking into the lounge now,” Celeste replied, entering the longue. “I hope the coffee is decent.” “I do hope so, too. Cannot imagine you without decent coffee.” Celeste chuckled as she sat down and gestured the young woman behind the counter to get a coffee by pointing at the menu. The young woman gave her a thumbs up. “Have a safe flight. We’ll keep track and come pick you up,” Karlach added with a gentler tone. “You do not have to,” Celeste quickly objected. “The flight has already been delayed and if my gut is correct, we not taking off tonight. I’ll be staying here for another day. Go to bed, get some sleep.” “Ugh, don’t say that!” “Sorry,” Celeste grinned. “Just make sure to check the flight tracker before you leave. There is no need for us to be stuck at different airports.” “Will do, smarty pants.” “Thanks, Kalla.” “Anytime, Kell. We are all pumped to have you home soon.” Celeste hung up, moving her thumb over the display. The last picture they had taken before she fled her life was set as her wallpaper. They were all smiling so happy, her heart ached.

How on earth did she ever got so lucky? In the friendship department, she was living the dream. Close, intimate bonds with people she trusted with her life, thoughts, feelings and broken heart – or call in the middle of the night because she was alone and tired at an airport on the other side of the world and needed to be comforted. To her surprise, their friendships had only deepened in her absence. Celeste had not expected them to abandon her but she had loved their enthusiasm to include her in their lives as much as possible: frequent video calls, dedicated servers to share information and video logs of their day-to-day life. She missed them so deeply, but they had made sure she knew she was loved and still part of their lives.

She could not wait to go home and hug them all, one by one.

Celeste had not been as lucky when it came to romantic love, though. Her divorce had been finalized eight days ago. She had never thought she’d see the day to be free of this marriage. The aftermath of it all would be messier but that was a problem for the upcoming weeks and nothing she was willing to put any energy into today. For now, she’d stay with Halsin and Soren before returning to work and beginning the dreaded process of house hunting. Just thinking about it made her groan internally.

“Your coffee, miss,” the nice bartender said, moving the coffee cup over the counter. “Thank you,” Celeste smiled. She had passed the age barrier to be called “Miss” some time ago, but was no longer wearing a wedding ring.

Picking up cup and saucer, her gaze darted around the room. The longue was filled with important people – or at least people who considered themselves to be important -, mostly men dressed in suits, deep in thought hovering over laptops and newspapers. Her flight was not the only one that had been delayed. Basically, everyone was stuck here for as long as she had and people were annoyed. Thankfully, as the hour grew late, people started to quiet down or take their discussions and heated calls outside. She looked around and was able to make out one empty seat at a table.

A man occupied the other chair. Dark hair, streaked subtly with grey, was tied halfback. Semi-circular black glasses, well-groomed beard. A dark purple shirt, rolled up to the elbows, displaying well-defined arms. He had tossed his blazer over the back of the chair, pondering over a chessboard. Celeste walked over and politely cleared her throat. Again. And again. And again.

“Pardon,” she then said as friendly as she could manage. “May I sit here?” The man jolted, clearly startled. His dark brown eyes darted around, unfocused for a moment, before settling on her. He blinked, staring at her in silence before straightening and clearing his throat. She recognized the look. He had been deep in thought, far removed from the bustling lounge around him. Up close, he was even more striking. There were faint lines around his eyes, and the tiredness in them mirrored her own. His gaze, the rich brown of her favourite chocolate, flickered with the weight of a long day. And yet, he was sitting here, playing chess with himself. Come one. Behave.

“Apologies,” he murmured. “I was lost in thought. Please, sit down.” He gestured to the chair across from him and began gathering the chess pieces, his long, elegant fingers moving with practiced ease as he cleared the board. She was certain he played an instrument or worked a job that required finesse with fingers this well manicured. Celeste set her coffee down and took the seat. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, his movements slowed. “Do you play?” “I do, yes. Would you like a game?” “I’d love to.” His smile was surprisingly warm. Celeste defeated him in the first two games, though he claimed victory in the third. It were close matches, not rushed but well thought out. Each game was a dance of precision and patience, neither rushed nor careless. Like wolves circling prey, they assessed every move, rethinking strategies before committing to the board. The competition was sharp, yet devoid of hostility. More of a shared challenge they both relished. Celeste loved every second of it. He laughed appreciatively at some of her moves, and she could tell he was enjoying himself. As she did him and his laughter. He was a brilliant tactician and Celeste found herself forcing her focus to keep up with his strategies more than once. The only problem was, he was even more beautiful when he was lost in thought, threading his fingers through his hair, a small crease building between his eyebrows. He had a way of moving his fingers through the beard stubble on his cheek when he was pondering the next move that she found utterly charming. Their silence was companionable. She felt seated with an old friend rather than a stranger. Approving nods, playful smirks, and the occasional taunting glance punctuated the quiet, with soft giggles breaking through every now and then.

It was the perfect reprieve. For the first time since Celeste left Greenland nineteen hours earlier, she felt herself relax.

“Would you like another coffee?” He asked after the third game. Celeste nodded, stretching as the hours of travel and sitting began to weigh heavily on her body. “Yes. And some water, please,” she answered, rummaging in her coat looking for her wallet. “As you wish,” was all he mumbled and stood up. Celeste found her wallet and wanted to offer cash, but he had already walked to the counter. Her gaze followed him. He was surprisingly well built. With his graceful gestures, the way his hands moved the pieces with practiced ease, she had expected him to be less toned. To avert he gaze and calm her jumping ovaries, she checked her phone.

Everyone on their message group was wishing her a save and soon flight home. She marked every single message with a heart and thanked them for their support, while quickly highlighting the fact that her flight was still delayed.

“Scratch and I can’t wait!” Jen answered. It made Celeste smile. “Good news?” His voice pulled her from her thoughts, she flinched. “I apologize,” he said, his voice a little too gentle as he set a tray onto the table. Two black coffees and a water were put around the chess board while they moved their used cups onto the tray. “I did not mean to pry.” He took the tray back to the bar before he said down. “You were not prying; I was lost in thoughts.” She moved the money over the table before taking the water. He raised an eyebrow, moving the money back with the same gesture – index and middle finger pressed onto the note -, looking as if she had deeply offended him. Celeste gulped down the glass of water and was laughing, when she finished.

“Thank you,” she said, storing the money in her pocket. “It’s the least I can do. You are an excellent chess player and deeply appreciated company.” “I appreciate the compliment,” she answered warmly and he smiled. Even his smile was gorgeous. Get a grip, Celeste. “So, what brings an accomplished chess player like yourself to an airport at the edge of the world in the dead of night, if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked, moving his gaze back to the board. “I just ended a two year assignment-“ “You are military?” “I am not. I am a marine biologist and my university sent me to set up a permanent research station in Greenland. It is a cooperative project of different universities and NGOs across the globe, so…..” Her voice trailed off; she had troubling finding the right words. “An administrative nightmare,” he offered. Celeste’s eyebrow rose. “Correct, yes. You work in research?” “Thankfully that is no longer the case,” he smiled, reaching for the coffee. “But I did, a long time ago.” “How long ago might that have been? You are what? 32?” To her delight, his cheeks flushed briefly as he drank, his thumb and middle finger layered over the rim of the cup. “Quite charming, thank you. I will turn 40 at the end of the year.” “If it makes you feel more comfortable, it does not show.” He laughed warmly, making her smile. “Thank you, you are very kind.” They sat in silence for a moment, Celeste pondering the idea of asking him everything that came to her tired mind. There was no feeling of unease or restriction. It felt as if she could talk about everything with him. Instead of talking and losing herself in inappropriate questions, she chose coffee. “What is the research on?” “Pardon?” “The station you have established. What is its purpose, exactly?” “Ocean acidification and ecosystem response. Carbon absorption, effects on calcifying organism, food web distributions, these kinds of things. How climate change effects the sea level is a well-known, well researched fact. We are observing the effects it has on food chains. There are 25 researchers permanently stationed in the middle of nowhere and they will remain for at least two more years. I will supervise from home.” “A long-term commitment, indeed. I’ve never been part of such research teams myself, but it’s undeniably a noble cause. One that demands dedication and a shared vision.” “Depends on who you ask or beg for money,” she grinned and he chuckled. “What is your area of expertise?” “I am mathematician.” “A wizard,” she nodded approvingly and joined his surprised laughter before she could stop herself. “A wizard? Well, that’s a new one! I’ve been called many things in my life, but wizard was never among them.” He smiled, somewhat pleased. “One if my friends is impacted by severe dyscalculia. She considers any person who can handle abstract numbers or more than basic algebra a wizard,” Celeste chuckled into her coffee and took a sip. “I apologize.” “There is no need to, it’s a title I will wear most appreciative,” he grinned. ”Following this line of argument, I might be considered an Archwizard. You are returning home?” Celeste gestured around the longue. “As most people, I got stuck here when the storm hit. But yes,” she sighed, rubbing her cheek, “I cannot wait to get home. Sleep in a real bed that’s not a bunk bed. Have a bath with my favourite music blaring as loud as I wish. Hug my friends.” She rolled her eyes longingly. “Maybe eat food that has not been dehydrated before. You know, vegetables that actually crunch when you bite down?” Her voice trailed off again as she thought of all the things she was looking forward to before she realized he was staring at her. His arms rested on the table folded, his gaze intrigued yet somewhat gentle. As if she was a piece of art he was trying to understand. A puzzle to solve.

Flattering.

“What about you?” She asked into the stretching silence, and he flinched. Celeste regretted her words immediately. The same kind eyes that had just darted into hers now seemed somewhat fearful. She had unknowingly touched one of the most intimate topics possible. “I apologize,” she added gently but he waved it off. He let his gaze move through the room though. “I am returning home as well. I took a sabbatical after… well, let’s just say it was long overdue.” He took deep breath as if to summon the courage to look at her. As his eyes found hers again, she was certain he was assessing the level of trust he was willing to show. “My former partner left me some time ago,” he added quietly. There was gentle timbre in his voice. “I buried myself in work afterward, but it did little to improve my state of mind. It was an intense relationship—deeply so—but in hindsight, perhaps not the healthiest. I loved her profoundly, and her departure hit me harder than I’m comfortable admitting. So, I chose to do something I’d long denied myself: travel. See the world. Try to rediscover who I am outside of what I’d known.” “I am sorry this happened to you,” Celeste answered and the weak smile on his lips was genuine. She lifted her hand, displaying the line her wedding ring had left. “I understand,” she simply stated.

They both reached for their coffee cups and shared a weak smile over the rim. “How did you become such a competent chess player?” Celeste appreciated the change in topic though she suddenly missed the sincere underline of his voice. She checked her watch and reached her coat pocket to find the pill bottle empty. With a look of disbelief and shock, she stared at the bottle.

“Fuck.”

She did not need the pills that had been stored in the bottle, but she wanted one. There was no physical component to her blooming addiction, she was aware. It was not how this particular amino acid analogue worked. But she could feel exhaustion creeping into the back of her mind, slowly numbing her senses. Celeste wanted to stay awake, to be able to soak him in, attentively listen to every word he was saying, every little detail he was willing to share. She could not get tired now.

In her head, she recounted the last ones she took. She had a backup bottle, but it was in her suitcase that had already been checked. He wanted to ask but did not, she could sense it. Celeste closed her eyes and rubbed her hand over her face. “Okay, great,” she then stated, opening her eyes and slipping the bottle back. “My father thought it important for his children to be reliable tacticians,” she explained, picking up the talk where she had left it. “Chess was one of the things I was taught from a very young age. I will boldly assume you were a prodigy.” He did not even try to hide his surprise. “That is surprisingly accurate, yes. How did you know?” Celeste grinned. “There are two types of mathematicians I have met in my life and - please don’t take this the wrong way - the slightly neurodivergent kind who just have a deep understanding of math and logic in general make up for the larger part.” “And the other kind?” he smirked. “There is no other kind,” she admitted and he burst into laughter. His laugh was so warm, she felt goosebumps blooming on her arms. If she could have one sound for the rest of her life, it would be this laughter. Deep, honest, unrestrained.

Jesus fucking Christ, Celeste, get a grip.

It took him a moment to calm down. “Again, surprisingly astute, yes,” he replied with a slight smirk. “I was considered a child prodigy and have claimed many notable titles in my life. But I must admit, the thrill of a chess game never quite fades, no matter how many victories I rack up.” “No Nobel prize yet?” she teased. “There is still time.” While she set up the chess board again, he rose. “Would you like more coffee?” “You do not have to do this.” “Allow me to be a gentleman,” he mimicked a bow. Celeste sighed and suppressed a charmed grin. “Yes, please. And anything sweet, if something is left. “ They played so many matches, Celeste stopped to count. And to care. Losing against him was surprisingly easy. Not that she lost often, it was quite a close tie after all. He continued to compliment her moves and offered insights to the strategies he preferred, never condescending. She could tell he had been called that in his life, as often as he was checking in with her, asking if his insights would be appreciated. His fingers did not stop to intrigue her. The obviously experienced moves with which he touched and moved the pieces on the board and off. The conversation flowed freely now, as did the coffee. Celeste could feel the tension leaving her. Somehow, he had seemed to decide she was worth the trust. Or risk.

Don’t flatter yourself. You look halfdead.

The trust, it seemed, allowed him to open up, he talked about himself. He had travelled the world, never stood long in one place while co-authoring a paper here and there. Not because he needed to, he tried to gently move around the topic, but it became obvious quickly. Sitting across from him in a restricted first class longue had made it quite obvious but she decided not to talk finances. He enjoyed reading, fine dry wine and had a cat he deeply missed that was currently staying with his mother until he started teaching again next semester. He had made a meticulously planned timeline to return home and look for houses. Time to settle in for himself and his cat and set up his library again.

A library. Of course.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Celeste, this is an airport flirt, nothing more. He might go back to Belfast or wherever he is from and forget about you the second you turn around.

Still, she was unable to take her eyes off him. In her defence, she had spent the last 919 days with the same 25 people who she now knew more intimately than she wanted to. They had had sex on occasion, as it was common on such missions, but it had never been about romance. Just pent-up energy, a bodily need to be fulfilled. Some of her coworkers had partners at home, even spouses they were looking forward to seeing again. Despite her own history – and Celeste had to admit to herself she needed some work there – she never understood the appeal of leaving one’s love behind to follow her own ambitions. If a man like this, like him – intelligent, charming, well-read and breathtakingly beautiful – would be her partner, she would not want spent a day apart from him. She gulped at the realisation, shoving the implications down and took another sip of coffee.

Celeste phone rang. Jenevelle. “Hey.” “Hey,” Jen started before words started to spill out of her in mind-bending speed. “Youarestrandedsoilookedaroundandguesswhattherewasonehotelroomleftthatitheincrediblefriendthat-“ “Jen, Jen! Slow down, please. What is happening?” “All flight are delayed for the next 12 hours,” she sighed, clearly annoyed she need to repeat herself. Celeste chuckled despite the news. “The snow will only be getting worse. You are not going anywhere, so you might as well get cozy.” Celeste smiled warmly. It felt good to be known. “What did you do?” “I secured the last hotel room for you. It costs about what I imagine an organ on the black-market costs, and you can repay me later but I will graciously accept some praise now. Everything else is completely overbooked. The airlines were surprisingly fast, so you have to hurry.” “You are aware you are not my personal assistant, right?” Celeste blinked warmly as he set down the coffee in front of her and dropped back into the seat. “I know! But I cannot wait to have you home have been reloading that damn flight tracker every five seconds!” “I love you, too,” she smiled, noticing the man flinching slightly. “Wait…What are you doing? You sound far too relaxed.” “I am playing chess,” she grinned and their eyes met. He looked at her puzzled. “But I promise to go check in after the next match.” “You need to leave now, I ordered you a cab. They will not keep the reservation for longer than an hour. It is a fucking suite after all.” Celeste rolled her eyes. She was afraid what might happen when she left. Or wouldn’t happen. “Okay, I will leave now. Thank you.” She slipped the phone back into her pocket. He tried not to ask but his curiosity was palpable.

Continue on AO3 (I apologize, Tumblr fucked up the formatting)

[doodleodds]

Happy Valentines, Akira. Happy Valentines, Asshole.

If you can’t read what Akechi’s secondary inner-dialogue says cause I obscured it too much behind his regular dialogue, here’s a transcription in panel order: Hello, you fucking- Ah- Hello, Akira! Fuck off, why should I tell you- Just a soda- there’s a new flavor.

I don’t want your shitty gift. Oh- haha! You’re so sweet.

I hope I choke. They’re lovely, thank you.

Like hell. Likewise. There’s no way it’s just a coincidence. Still though, it’s a funny coincidence.

[buttercupshands]

welcome back, Todoroki family arc! in both anime AND manga

[silkjade]

i haven’t been here much recently, and i’m sorry i’ve only been negative on the off chance i’ve been online, but let me just say one last piece before the end of this month, so that maybe the next might be better….

[anna-draws-stuff]

Speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil 👁️

Aᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀs sᴛɪᴄᴋᴇʀs + ᴘʀɪɴᴛs + ᴋᴇʏᴄʜᴀɪɴs ✨ 

ᵂᵉᵇˢʰᵒᵖ || ᴱᵗˢʸ

[discoreptile]

As of yet unnamed game card art!

[sysig]

Really digging out the old OCs now; Pan-na, Pilok, Azalea, squirrel boys Will and Damien, and Cupid and Venus <3 (Patreon)

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)

[bat-the-misfit]

LISTEN UP EVERYONE:

think about someone you haven't talked to in a long time.

if they died now, would you regret not talking to them?

if you would, maybe you should talk to them.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

one in a million when i watch smthing in the horror genre and don't end up disappointed to/and/or pissed off about it so like "also yeah i liked it. ooo" is like relative to that an off the charts rave review of media of the millennium. also i did think about mh a lot along the way so would recommend its affect/effect if you like mh's horror too

[xcziel]

.

[cy-cyborg]

Free Manual Wheelchair Reference Models

ID: A banner with grey 3D models of 5 kinds of manual wheelchairs in a line in front of the disability pride flag and text that reads "Manual Wheelchair References" /End ID

For disability pride month, I decided to release a pack of 3D manual wheelchair models.

The pack includes 5 wheelchairs:

2 Active urban-style chairs (one of which includes a smart drive)

1 off-road active chair

1 children's wheelchair

and 1 standard "hospital" wheelchair).

All the wheelchairs are based off either wheelchairs I or friends of mine have used

Downloadable here!

or on the Clip Studio Paint Asset Store (ID 2097442) (there's been an issue with the CSP version, but the models in the download folder can be imported into clip studio paint until I can fix it)

More info about the download contents below:

The first download link includes the original .Blend file with all 5 chairs, as well as individual .obj or .fbx files the chairs (All but 1 have an .obj file, as they're only meshes. The chair with the smart drive is rigged, which is why it has an .Fbx file instead so it will retain that information) as well as a "read me" file that explains in more depth what kind of disability/character/lifestyle each chair is made for (These are just what I had in mind when I designed them, they are usable by other characters who don't fit the suggestions for the most part!) I wanted to include the Read Me contents in the CSP Asset Store listing, but CS said it was too long lol.

Also, as the title says, these files are free to use! While it's not mandatory, I would appreciate credit if you use them (or even just a tag so I can see the cool art you make with them!!)

I actually made these ages ago, the original plan was to use them in a series of posts then release the pack, but I never got around to making the series and so they've just been sitting here. I took a day off from art fight attacks to clean them all up and get them ready to post. If you experience any issues, let me know and I'll try to fix it up.

I had a couple more that were supposed to be in the pack including a sports (basketball/Tennis) wheelchair and some different styles of wheelchair, but I think the files corrupted so once I fix (or remake) them, I'll probably make a second pack.

If you have any issues, please let me know!