#I might not post again for a while though

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Late to the party to reblog as always, but GOD, HAPPY I HAD THE TIME TO INDULGE IN THIS MASTERPIECE. This might be one of my new favourites from your Zae!! (even if I say so every time LMAO)

You know how downbad I am for solo Arthur. For utterly frustrated Arthur, taking matters into his own hands. Oh God this was perfect. As aways, I'm caught right from the beggining:

Channeling the self-control of a brigade of soldiers, Arthur willed his unruly cock flaccid as he left the post office.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is how you open up a perfect fic 😂😂. Seriously, though, I loved how you gave some context about their relationship in a light way, not too much info dumping, but just enough to understand Arthur's point of view. Looooved this passage

Every time he passed by the quiet homestead, he found himself lightly pulling on Boadicea’s reins and scoping out something to fix. Your ways of showing gratitude, like a hug or kiss on the cheek, turned his neck to shades of crimson, yet he’d still come knocking again some time later. On his last visit, you were dragging him to your room by cotton suspenders, mouth attached to his before he could get a word in. An innocent lamb you were not—he was sure of it now in a half-daze, hypnotized by your breasts as you bounced on top of him. Matter of fact, you must’ve been a witch or a succubus; he’d never felt so used, drained, and perfectly satisfied.

I was wondering if I could use the word succubus a few days ago for my own writing, and I'm very grateful you showed me that yes indeed!! I love how he's all yearning here, not doing anything explicitly to win her over but just coming back every time. I could totally picture him do that. And oh yes, yes, yes, he deserves to be drained like that 😏😏

And of course, the heart of the matter is absolutely brilliant and delightfully written.

Fuck, he wanted to rip that photographer’s head clean off his shoulders for capturing you like that, but goddamn, he wanted to shake the man’s hand too. This slip of paper was a slice of heaven on Earth.

I laughed sm at this!!! I can totally imagine him getting all jealous the photographer saw her nude but being so grateful at the same time, confused boy 😂. Also please, just the fact tha you managed to transcribe sexting and sending nudes to fcking 1899 is MASTERFUL Zae!! I'm in awe as always!!

I had a dream about you. Do you ever dream about me?   The bulge in his pants begged for attention, and he appeased it, palming himself idly while his eyes stayed trained on the photograph. He’s too old and weathered for this—pining over some girl and touching himself like he’d gotten a second wind of puberty. 

I love how you start it slow. Two simple sentences, and he's gone. And I'm too, to be honest 😤

His cock sprung free, twitching and yearning. Flicking his eyes to your photo once more, his right hand moved on its own, kneading his leaking tip. He peeked over the edge of the paper, watching precum drizzle down his shaft, imagining it was you leaking around him. 

*sighs*. Click. Bzzzzzz (seriously this is a fucking treat to read Zae. Thank you for writing and sharing your magic with us mortals.)

Also, the part when he wishes for more photos; sooo hot of course (loved how he would even provided money for it eheh) but also, the need to have a proper one? What a perfect way to show his need for actual love and affection on top of lust. This is an incredible "show don't tell", I'm on my knees rn.

Jesus all the parts about Arthur being eager in her dream, I was MELTING Zae. The way you wrote him reacting to specific sentences and parts is just so perfect. I'm repeating myself, but it was just incredible to read and so vivid and interactive, even if we're still just readers. I don't know why and how but I felt so involved!

I get the feeling that you do a lot of taking care of other folks and don’t get that in return. Am I right? I’d take care of you, Arthur. I’d keep your belly full and drain your balls all in a night. They tightened at the thought, and his hips were a piston now, going up and down on their own accord.

See? Stuff like this. It's absolutely wonderful. I was SO turned on I should be ashamed!!! And oh, that part with the necklace 😏🔥 Very very clever once more. And so erotic! You bet your ass he's an excited mess. What a tease!!

And oh, the climax. His climax. Our climaxes. This had the effect intended, dear, I've been way too much impacted by it.

Don’t think me too crass, but do you touch yourself to my letters like I touch myself to yours? Yours are more well-mannered than mine. But still, I wonder, is your fist wrapped around your cock? “Yes, darlin.”  Goddamnit, he was talking to himself now, arm cramping as he pumped feverishly at his engorged dick, his orgasm waiting to explode behind his eyes. Do you imagine it’s me instead? I wish it was me. I wish I was on top of you again, milking you for everything you’ve got. Would you give it to me this time, Arthur? Would you spill inside of me? And spill he did, teeth gritted and grunting, as hot ropes of lust spurted out over his hand. Once again, he’d made a mess of himself on account of you.

This was too good Zae. I won't recover from this one until a long time 😮‍💨I was in the same state as him honestly, this wrecked me 😂

And the last line, so light and fluffy. Our dear baby, always longing and yearning. Perfectly wrapped!

What can I say more? One of my favorite fantasies to read, written by one of my favorite authors?? What more could I've asked for? Thank you so much for this incredible piece Zae!!!

Causerie

Summary: You send Arthur a letter. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word Count: 2,185 Tags: Male Masturbation, solo handjob, mentions of oral and unprotected p in v, dirty talk, long distance relationship, high honor Warnings: 18+ MDNI

an: So this came out of nowhere LMAO It's a bit different from what I'm used to, but I ran with it. The mentioned photo was heavily inspired by @sir-walton-goggins's under-the-cut sketch of their OC, Kris Blake. 😍😍😍 I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Causerie: an informal conversation

Channeling the self-control of a brigade of soldiers, Arthur willed his unruly cock flaccid as he left the post office. An envelope addressed to Tacitus Kilgore in familiar dainty cursive teased him from inside his satchel. The nagging twinge in his gut could only be satiated by his fist wrapped tight around himself in the solitude of his tent. 

He didn’t know how he’d make it through the rest of the day without losing his sanity. Once you’d unknowingly planted the seeds, his thoughts of you grew wild and untamed like the weeds at your feet. He’d never seen something so ridiculous—a woman in her day dress, the lacy hem stained with dirt, trying to repair a loose fence post on her own.

“No man ’round here?” he had asked, holding his hand out for the hammer.

“There is now.”

You beamed, your smile stunning him like a camera flash. Unbeknownst to him, that grin was a brand, marking him as yours for a long time to come. 

Every time he passed by the quiet homestead, he found himself lightly pulling on Boadicea’s reins and scoping out something to fix. Your ways of showing gratitude, like a hug or kiss on the cheek, turned his neck to shades of crimson, yet he’d still come knocking again some time later. On his last visit, you were dragging him to your room by cotton suspenders, mouth attached to his before he could get a word in.

An innocent lamb you were not—he was sure of it now in a half-daze, hypnotized by your breasts as you bounced on top of him. Matter of fact, you must’ve been a witch or a succubus; he’d never felt so used, drained, and perfectly satisfied.

And guilty, too. He couldn’t even look at you as he confessed to his life of criminality, finally admitting what he’d come to tell you in the first place. After this job, he was leaving for good.

To his surprise, you didn’t put up a fight—just wished him well—and dammit, that made him want you even more. You didn’t follow him outside—only watched from under the blanket as he said his last goodbye and promise.

“I’ll write t’you.”

Receiving your letters kept his heart ticking and dick aching. What started as a pile of polite notes quickly transformed into a library of erotica. His hands trembled in anticipation as he opened the latest letter. 

Dear Arthur, 

Are you still alive? I hope you haven’t gone and gotten yourself killed. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. A new photographer opened up in town, and I stopped by the studio one evening just before he closed. I may have batted my lashes and stood a little too close when I asked for his help. A special photo of me would be the perfect gift for my dear husband, who was about to be shipped away to war in the Philippines. You should’ve seen how red he got when I dropped my blouse. I tried to sit pretty. Did it work?

A photo? Arthur checked the discarded envelope, searching for the supposed gift. A small photo was still tucked away in the envelope. He took it out and held it up to the lantern to get a good look.

Christ.

You were directly in the center of the camera with a lazy smile on your face. Pearls adorned your neck, and velvet cloth draped over your shoulders, just barely covering those twin humps on your chest. Fuck, he wanted to rip that photographer’s head clean off his shoulders for capturing you like that, but goddamn, he wanted to shake the man’s hand too. This slip of paper was a slice of heaven on Earth.

And for what he was about to do with it, he was going straight to hell. Setting the letter aside, the gunslinger undressed down to his union suit with the ardor of his twenty-year-old self. As he settled back onto the cot, he locked on to your sultry eyes and sighed contently.

I had a dream about you. Do you ever dream about me?  

The bulge in his pants begged for attention, and he appeased it, palming himself idly while his eyes stayed trained on the photograph. He’s too old and weathered for this—pining over some girl and touching himself like he’d gotten a second wind of puberty. 

But he couldn’t help it. Even after deafening gun fights and vicious animal attacks, he’d find a letter to re-read, and now he had this picture to accompany his fantasies. His gaze shifted from the photo back to your words on the page. 

We were in this beautiful room in a palace or someplace like that, swimming under blankets. It was far from my humble bed, but it felt like paradise. 

If only you knew, that little bed was his paradise.

Dream you tasted like whiskey and ash and smelled like leather and gunpowder. I don’t think it was too far off from the real thing. We weren’t wearing any clothes, of course, and your head was tucked between my thighs. 

Breath shaking, his hips shifted upward, the memory of your thighs on either side of him overwhelming his senses. Arthur sucked in his bottom lip and didn’t waste any more time undoing the bottom two buttons of his union suit. His cock sprung free, twitching and yearning. Flicking his eyes to your photo once more, his right hand moved on its own, kneading his leaking tip. He peeked over the edge of the paper, watching precum drizzle down his shaft, imagining it was you leaking around him. 

Oh, Arthur, I could feel your lips on every part of me at once, kissing up my stomach, bosom, arms, thighs, legs, all over. But when you found my lips again, I don’t know how my pounding heart didn’t suck me out of the dream. Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are or how heavenly your hands feel? And your back, Mister Morgan, is like a brick wall. How I wish I could’ve dug my nails into it.

Arthur’s fisted pace quickened as he stifled a groan, trying his very best to keep the sounds of his sin quiet. He urged himself downward into the cot, hoping the friction could mimic the sting of your nails dragging down his spine, but it was no use. Tightening his grip in frustration, he turned his attention back to the photograph of you. He wanted to study your hands, to imprint them in his mind’s eye so he could imagine them scratching his back and pleasuring his cock.

But the photo was too close up, only your face and a peak of your breasts captured at that moment in time. Would he be too brazen to ask for another? To request a pose? Hell—he’d stuff the money in an envelope with a list of the depraved positions he’d like to see you in. Your hands on your bust, legs spread open, on all fours, one with your pretty fingers in your mouth, and a full body shot with just the pearls. Dammit—he’d kill for it. 

But then, at the very end of the list, he’d ask for a respectable one. One of you with your hair pinned up under a fancy hat, dressed in your finest, wearing a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet with your hands folded politely over your lap. One that was sweet and proper. One that he could tuck in his journal, frame, or pin up on the wagon. One that he could take out in broad daylight and pretend, just for a moment, that he really was that war vet admiring a photo of his loving spouse.

His hips moved involuntarily again, jutting up into his fist—the placeholder for the pussy of the woman he’d one day make his wife.

I didn’t plan to get you in bed that night, as unbelievable as that may sound. You were just so damn handsome and so so kind. I couldn’t help it. I needed to know how you’d feel inside me. I hope you don’t see me as just some Jezebel.

“No,” he gasped out. Wet sounds of his strokes accompanied his declaration.

I really did and still do have feelings for you, Arthur. It’s quite scary, actually. Maybe that’s why my dreams about you are so vivid? I realized just how much I cared that night, looking down into your eyes. I don’t take you as the type of man to just give yourself away on a normal day like that, so I hope you feel the same way as me. Did I ever say thank you? Thank you for being such a giver. I have a tendency to take, take, take when I’m on top, but you got payback in my dream. You had me pinned under all of your weight, damn near suffocating me. It was the good type, though. When you pushed into me, I forgot all about it. I never took you for an eager man either, but you were drilling me into those blankets with the fervor of a threshing machine. Are you an eager man, Mister Morgan?

He answered in shallow pants, twisting his fist around his length and rocking his hips. 

I have a curse of waking up right when I’m on the edge, so as you can imagine, I had a wet problem to take care of. My fingers just don’t quite do it like you. I wish we could’ve had more time together. I get the feeling that you do a lot of taking care of other folks and don’t get that in return. Am I right? I’d take care of you, Arthur. I’d keep your belly full and drain your balls all in a night.

They tightened at the thought, and his hips were a piston now, going up and down on their own accord.

I know you’d never ask because you’re too nice, but I’d get on my knees for you and take care of you in that way. I’m sad we never got to try it, that I never got to taste you. The thought gave me the silliest idea. Are you looking at my picture? Imagine that pearl necklace is your spend on my chest.

Jesus—the perverted imagery hit him like a train. He looked at the pretty pearls atop your chest. Goddamn, minx. 

Don’t think me too crass, but do you touch yourself to my letters like I touch myself to yours? Yours are more well-mannered than mine. But still, I wonder, is your fist wrapped around your cock?

“Yes, darlin.” 

Goddamnit, he was talking to himself now, arm cramping as he pumped feverishly at his engorged dick, his orgasm waiting to explode behind his eyes.

Do you imagine it’s me instead? I wish it was me. I wish I was on top of you again, milking you for everything you’ve got. Would you give it to me this time, Arthur? Would you spill inside of me?

And spill he did, teeth gritted and grunting, as hot ropes of lust spurted out over his hand. Once again, he’d made a mess of himself on account of you.

Shame crept in as he floated back to reality and stared up at the canvas of his tent. He brought the letter back to his face to read the last paragraph. The least he should do was finish it—dirty old bastard. But when he landed on your words and processed them, he was left with a numb, longing ache in his chest.

If we were together, I’d help clean you up, then maybe we could spend the rest of the night all tangled up in each other. I’m sorry I’m not there to touch you for real, but I hope these letters bring a little light to that hard, lonely life of yours. If I can make you feel good, even from far away, that’s enough for me. I miss you. Any chance you could come see me soon? 

Yours.

Arthur sighed and folded your letter back up neatly, tucking it away in his now hollowed-out copy of Rambles Through Woods and Plains. Though your photo and letter were out of sight, his mind refused to wander from the subject of you.

An assortment of motion pictures flickered in his memory: the way your head tipped in laughter at his dry sarcasm, how you so graciously welcomed him to that sitdown meal, the way you worried about him just as much as he worried about you, and how your words, even from afar, brought him unmeasurable comfort. Making it back across the Upper Montana could be a brutal fight, but he’d outrun the law and take a few bullets if he had to. He’d bare it all to bring you back with him. 

As he relaxed into the cot, another thought drifted by, small and almost weightless like a dandelion seed in the wind: maybe he wouldn’t have to bring you back at all. Perhaps he could stay right there with you.

[bisexualbrainrots]

I got really inspired by this post and wrote this little thing, I kinda wrote without stopping so idk if I made any sense but hey, louliver fluff

Lou says goodbye to the interviewer and closes his laptop, taking a deep breath. He looks up through his eyelashes and raises his eyebrow.

“What?”

Oliver bites his lip, clearly not trying to hide the shit-eating grin adorning his face. He’s sitting on the couch’s arm rest, arms and legs crossed as he looks into Lou’s eyes with an intensity that reminds him of a lion stalking his prey. He stands up and starts walking with the same swagger he’s used dozens of times at this point, and once he reaches him he sits on Lou’s lap, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck.

“The love of your life, huh?”

Lou rolls his eyes at the smugness in his tone, “You know I meant Buck and Tommy.”

“Sure you did.”

This guy is going to kill me, he thinks, “Shut up,” he says instead, his hands holding onto Oliver’s waist and hips tight.

Oliver chuckles and gives him a short kiss, nuzzles his nose on Lou’s cheek, “I didn’t say anything bad about it, Louie,” he leans his head back, the blues meeting as his eyebrow rises in that annoying way Lou still can’t believe works on him “Or did I?”

Lou scoffs, even though he already feels his body betraying him as a smile breaks through his face and the heat starts to spread across it, “You little shit.”

He could be embarrassed about the way his face simply refuses to remain neutral around Oliver Stark, if it weren’t because the guy is equally (if not more) affected by him. Oliver’s cheeks and ears are flushed so red it makes him want to bite him. He noticed the color increased in intensity whenever he looked at Oliver during the interview, while the guy sat on the couch with his phone in hand as he scrolled away.

Lou is not going to lie and say knowing he had that effect on Oliver didn’t make him feel giddy inside, and he’s also not going to pretend he doesn’t want to see the man turn into a mess because of him.

So he hides his face in the crook of the guy’s neck, nibbling the skin and causing Oliver to giggle hard, feeling his fingers clutch at his hair as a warning. He stops and just inhales, taking in the aftershave Oliver had freshly applied from the shower they took pre interview. Lou sighs, and braces himself for whatever reaction Oliver will have, “I say this because I know you’ll give me shit for it anyways so, at least you’ll know. I… I do feel that way, Oli.” He closes his eyes and waits.

The silence is too long and it makes Lou frown. He leans back and looks at the guy, surprised by how wide his eyes look, “Oli?”

That seems to take Oliver from whatever trance he’s in, and he starts babbling as he looks at Lou, his pupils wide enough that they hide the blue.

Did I finally break him? Lou thinks.

Oliver’s breath hitches and he starts to smile so wide Lou thinks it must hurt, “You… You’re serious?”

Lou nods, a little confused by his reaction. He honestly thought Oliver would tell him to fuck off.

“Fuck you,” well, there it is.

He chuckles and tries to duck his head, but he’s stopped by Oliver whose grip forces him to look up at the guy. He honestly looks like he’s glowing, it makes Lou want to grab his sketchbook and transfer that sight onto paper.

“I… I feel it too.”

That makes Lou straighten up, which shifts Oliver’s body and plasters him to his chest.

“For real?”

“For fuck’s sake, Lou.” he moves his hands and grabs Lou’s face, stroking his cheekbones. “Yeah, I do.”

Now it’s Lou’s turn to glow. He smiles widely and before he knows it, he’s crashing his lips onto Oliver’s, kissing him like his life depends on it. And it might as well be, given the way his heart feels like it’s going to come out of his chest.

When they separate, because their stupid lungs need stupid air to breath, the only sound in the room is the one of their panting.

They smile again, eyes sparkling as they trace every detail of their faces into their memories. Oliver thumbs the lines on the corners of Lou’s eyes; and Lou’s hands get under Oliver’s shirt, shaping circles on the skin.

“I love you, Louie.”

“I love you too, Oli.”

[bambisnc]

(   ➴ ) 505 ♡ but i crumble completely when you cry

### . STARRING ⌢ j.sc ⋆ headcanon + 0.6k // kissing + lwk toxic ˖ ✧

[ 陰 𐂂 ] ─── hi riizeblr how we doing havent been here for a while giggles nervously. anyw. rework of my first post ever in honor of 1k!ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‹ FILE.ZIP 𝟹

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤsituationship!jung sungchan could see himself falling for you with a certainty that even surprised him.

he could imagine it especially clearly in the moments right after he pulled away—forced himself to pull away—from your embrace. just for a second though, he couldn't bear to stay away from your touch for longer than that. 

because any longer and the fear that this moment was fleeting would overcome him even though he knew, he knows, that you would never walk away. 

that's his thing after all, isn’t it?

situationship!jung sungchan who swears he sees the moon, the world, the universe in your eyes—drooping slightly, as if you’re tired.

a light, barely there sheen of sweat and the huffs that sound as you struggle to catch your breath. how can situationship!jung sungchan not chase after your now swollen, bitten lips as they sound out his name? your hands clutch onto him as if you're unsure of whether you should push him away or pull him closer.

you should. you really should push him away. if you want to be able to save what little is left of your sanity, that is.

but you won't; you could never. you and him both know that. 

and even if you were to have any such thoughts, situationship!jung sungchan would simply pull you right back in. a brush of his lips to yours, in that way he knows drives you crazy, just before it escalates. and it always escalates, doesn’t it?

long, tiring days, often see situationship!jung sungchan ask himself questions when your name pops up in his notifications. he can't help but want to stop the push and pull of it all. to grant a title to your relationship, to settle and to stay with you for however long you want him. he wants that for you.

but you deserve more. so, so much more, than he’d be able to give you. he knows that too. but the thought of giving you up is painful.

so, once again, he makes his peace with the fact that his mind will remain occupied by thoughts of you, and only you; it was always, always you. he’ll make peace with the anguish, the heartache as long as he can be with you.

but of course, there are times when the ease of the charade slips.

when situationship!jung sungchan finds himself at the mercy of your tears, each sob piercing his heart. faced by your trembling figure and broken voice, he can't help but stay still. he should comfort you, he knows that that’s what needs to be done. 

he should wrap his arms around you, whisper soft comforts and promises into your hair, and assure you that he’d never let you leave his embrace, but he can't. he’s dazed. stuck in a stupor, almost. 

situationship!jung sungchan almost laughs at the bitter irony of the whole situation. 

to keep you safe, he’s aware that he has to leave you. 

stay as far away as possible so that you can heal in peace, away from him and his self destructive endeavours that somehow always end up tainting, hurting, damaging you in the process.

and that's why, without fail, situationship!jung sungchan finds himself leaving you right there. shattered, on the ground. 

but then again, he always finds himself coming back. what is he, truly, if not a fool repeating his folly—day in and day out? 

you just make it so easy.

always so warm, so inviting to him even when he knows, he knows, goddamn it he really does know how much bitterness your heart must hold against him and his perpetual habit of reeling you in and after a whirlwind couple of days, detaching himself completely. 

breaking you over and over till there'd be nothing left at all. 

maybe that's what situationship!jung sungchan wants then? subconsciously? 

to have you so utterly ruined that he be the only one to ever be able to piece you back.

i might not write for riize a lot going forward, but they still have a special place in my heart <3 sungchan specially; he's the bambi in my username after all (+ snc = sungchan. goodbye im down bad). why am i lowkey tearing up i miss them sb.

𐙚 . regulars : @x0llaz @fae-renjun @nicholasluvbot @totheseok @hanninova @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @cuntyhoesstuff @chrrific ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[utilitycaster]

Any tips or ideas for GMing the end of the Age of Reclamation? I want to be sure to get all the ramifications of the Divine Gate falling, and of the different social movements that come from the loss of the deities, but most of all I’m curious what someone as invested as I am in the narrative cohesion of Exandria would like to see in it.

Honestly? I don't really have tips - I don't GM anything in Exandria that will touch on it (Netherdeep game scheduling has been rough and I don't run any other games) and while I very much enjoyed EXU Divergence and Wildemount Wildlings I didn't really have much in the way of like, theorycraft/worldbuilding concepts in mind based on them.

Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but one aspect of why I think Campaign 3's plot struggled so mightily is that divinity and organized religion in Exandria were never very well laid out - @the-littlest-goblin has a post about the former, and I know I've touched on the latter a few times. Vasselheim is the cradle of civilization and a religious hub for the prime deities, but there doesn't appear to be any centralized power (Fy'ra and Morrighan do not seem to go through Vasselheim to be named champions) - and why would there be, given that the gods can communicate around anyone who claims to be a mouthpiece? The reality of the presence of the gods was, again as the-littlest-goblin pointed out, not really explored well within the text (and I include any of the texts). I think Matt is rightfully lauded for worldbuilding in terms of political structures, history, geography, and even new systems of magic; but actually, the specific role of religion has always been a weakness that we simply did not see until the role of religion and the gods became a major focus and the narrative infrastructure to support it was simply not there.

So anyway with that in mind: I actually wonder if we'd see Vasselheim actually become much more like our real Vatican/catholic church now that there is no divine voice of say, The Stormlord available to everyone. The idea that pre-Catatheosis Vasselheim was akin to the Vatican was very much not supported and entirely, in my opinion, projection from people who struggled to imagine something wholly unlike our world; but now that Exandria doesn't have gods that can simply talk to you (especially during the decade-plus period at least before the gods are found again), I think more formally organized religion and more authority among religious leaders than previously would feel realistic. I also suspect there will be perhaps increased religiosity in the world - if you cannot feel their presence, you may seek out religion for ritual and community instead. Ironically, I think Exandria might go from a very "religion as personal journey" almost modern attitude to a rather more medieval one.

I also think that false prophets/people claiming to be gods will be at minimum a cottage industry, especially a few years after; I'm unsure if the demons as we saw during the campaign will come back or if the bloody bridge/leylines were part of that problem so you can do whatever fits your particular campaign for now; and I think that some people will lose faith.

It's not all scams and the development of Fantasy Catholicism, though; I think the positives are going to be that the Accord will have established some degree of international cooperation and eroded the isolationism we saw in Campaigns 1 and 2, and of course Ruidians and access to Ruidus itself will open up entirely new perspectives! I think there will be leaps in biological research particularly, given that was the focus of Ruidian science. I would like to think that surviving members of the Grim Verity and the reveals of Ruidus's nature, not to mention the fact that vaulting everything up didn't stop Ludinus, will lead to an opening of said vaults and perhaps even an increased focus on Exandrian historical research; the perspective of the Kryn, now less isolated, will be incredibly valuable here. I also would like to think that the Empire being in some degree of turmoil will resolve, but with the dissolution of the Assembly. My guess is it will just continue in the Dwendal line, but if you want to focus on Wildemount I think you could make an argument for the Empire to follow in the footsteps of Tal'Dorei's relatively recent transition to a council (or for upheaval or even a civil war to lead to that transition). Either way I expect the Clovis Concord and Dynasty to develop more of a relationship and more power on the continent.

I also wonder if the international community will focus again on Aeor (now that Ludinus isn't trying to control access) and if there were be redoubled efforts to address the corruption of the Savalirwood. (Man, Ludinus REALLY fucked Uthodurn over as collateral in multiple ways, huh). It really might be something of an industrial revolution for a world that was already on the cusp of it.

Finally, think about all the sealed things or long-running enchantments that failed - what happens with them? Some might be cool, Umudara; others might be violent require further cooperation to address, like Desirat. This could be a great hook for adventures you run.

[deception-united]

Hi! I saw the post of how to write a father daughter crumbling relationship, and I wanted to ask how you write a father daughter relationship that’s already broken? the way i’m going with my story is she ran away at one point and he’s evil. She ends up seeing him again years later, has to go against him, and even fight him at some point to take him down. They’ll probably never fix the relationship ever, but I still want to have little pieces where there’s that ping of like “that’s my father”yk? I might also add a plot that he now has another daughter too, I hope this is not confusing, but do you think you could help with some tips? :)

Hi, thanks for asking! Here are some tips and ideas.

1. Start with echoes instead of flashbacks.

You don't need to info-dump their entire backstory right at the start. Try using emotional echoes instead—like small memories, half-formed thoughts, or sensory triggers. A particular smell or sight could remind her of her father, especially if it's from what she remembers he was like before their relationship broke or how she wishes it could be. This creates emotional disruption and can help the reader feel the dissonance between who he was and who he became without having to include pages of detailed reminiscing.

2. Focus on what's missing.

Because the relationship is already shattered, a lot of the emotional weight will come from absence. She's not necessarily mourning what happened, but what never did, like a birthday he didn't show up for, the safety she should've felt, things she wishes she had but was never given.

3. Resenting the pieces that still care

Rather than complete hatred, have your protagonist hate that she still feels something. Add in the odd confusing flicker of warmth, nostalgia, or longing that'll make her seem more real instead of just hardened or revenge-focused.

Ex: Noticing a trait she shares with him, flinching at the way he says her name, etc.

4. Mirrored behaviour

You can have her catch herself doing something he does, no matter how subtle (tilting her head the same way when thinking, using a fighting tactic he always did), and it sickens her. This can add inner conflict, especially when she starts questioning 'what else did I inherit?'—maybe she'll think that no matter how much she ran, some part of him is in her.

5. Make the father human.

Villainous as he is, he still is human; he should be terrifying because he's believable. He might believe what he did was necessary, show that he cares in twisted ways, or mourn losing her while refusing to admit that he was wrong. This contradiction can add depth—and as twisted and cruel as he may be, remembering the tiny things like a lullaby or a joke he used to say may haunt her. Though they don't nearly redeem him, they can be the reasons it hurts to fight him.

6. 2nd daughter

I love that you added a second daughter—it can give rise to more emotions and further development. Your protagonist might feel jealous, protective, disgusted. Maybe the new daughter thinks he's a great father (if he learnt from his mistakes?); or maybe he's worse than ever.

This new dynamic can go to show who he is now and force your protagonist to question things. She might be a mirror or a threat: if he's softer with her, maybe your protagonist is furious but also jealous, then ashamed of that jealousy; but if he's using her, too, she might want to save this sister—not necessarily out of love, but out of revenge ('I won't let him ruin her like he did me').

7. Confrontation

When she finally faces him, make it more than just a boss fight. There are going to be emotional grenades from their broken bond, even as they fight (a flicker of hesitation, a glance, a choice not to kill when they could have).

8. Ending

You don't need to end with reconciliation—just recognition. Not all wounds heal, and that's okay. Let the narrative acknowledge the connection without having to fully repair it. Sometimes redemption arcs aren't necessary for the story to have a good ending.

Hope this helped!

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[zorange13]

—he’s such a loser, wtf? pjs (part 2)

pairing. geek! park jay x afab poc popular! reader

content. acquaintances to lovers, jay is lowkey a loser but not, ft. popular athletes! hyung line, jay’s an asshole like fr, allusions to The Duff by Kody Keplinger (little me loved that book, i’ve read it twice. i still love it idc. don’t talk to me abt the movie tho…sigh), photographer geek! jay, journalism major! psych minor! reader, arson jokes, playfully questioning friend’s sexuality, making out

word count: 30,974 (5,383 in this part) part 1 here!

synopsis: jay’s been hiding behind his cool, distant demeanor, never letting anyone get too close. when he crosses paths with you, a popular cheerleader, your unlikely connection sparks a series of misunderstandings, awkward encounters, and him trying—and failing—to navigate feelings he’s not used to confronting. With a secret mission to keep his distance while helping her, jay finds himself caught between his own stubbornness and the surprising depth of his feelings.

after well into writing this i realized that a lot of jay’s behaviors display signs of autism spectrum disorder. this was not intentional but if this does offend or put anyone off in any way PLEASE let me know!! (symptoms/signs such as: must follow certain routines, seeming blunt or rude without intention, taking things literally—as in—does not understand figures of speech or sarcasm, prefers to be alone, hyperfixations,) again, not intentional but i didn’t want to put this out without making it clear that i’m not ignorant to what i’m producing. i literally didn’t put this together until my close friend (who is autistic) told me that these were signs. she said this did not offend her, but obviously she doesn't speak for all! this isn't to offend anyone, if this does then please tell me. my dm's are always open for any reason!

The next few days had been pretty lonely. The group chat you shared with the boys had been active but you never responded or interacted. But in the event that one of them needed to speak with you, you definitely replied. It wasn’t like they did anything to you. 

Jay hadn’t stopped trying to get a hold of you, calling you a few times a day. Texting you. But he gave you space at the end of the day and that was really all you wanted. 

Your mom had told you to check the mail as she had just sent a care package for you. With glee, you went right to the university post office and checked your godforsaken P.O. box. As you opened it, you saw two slips. Which made you furrow your brows in confusion but maybe mom just couldn’t fit everything into one box.

You mindlessly got your boxes and headed to your dorm. As you kicked off your shoes and placed the boxes on your desk, you grabbed a pair of scissors to open the boxes.

Your heart warmed as you saw your mom’s mail: soap, framed pictures from home wrapped in bubble wrap, perfumes, shirts that you mentioned you forgot at home and some new ones, then finally a brand new journal with floral prints on it. 

You grabbed the pictures with a smile and set them on your desk with a smile. Missing your troublemaking siblings a lot more than you’d like to admit. You made a mental note to give them a call later.

But then your attention turned to what could’ve been more to the other box. You opened it with glee, only for that to be replaced with sadness and frustration.

As you pulled the second object from the box, your fingers tightened around it, but the excitement quickly turned to confusion and a simmering frustration. It wasn’t a journal, though it looked like something you might have appreciated if it were from anyone else.

It was a sleek, well-made leather portfolio with a silver clasp, the kind you’d expect a professional to carry. You turned it over in your hands, a sinking feeling in your chest. There was a small embossed emblem on the back—a symbol you didn’t recognize immediately.

Your stomach dropped as you read the letter that was tucked neatly inside, almost as if it were designed to hide the truth you didn't want to face.

The letter was from Jay, written in his familiar handwriting.

“Hey, I know this isn’t something you’d ever ask for, and I don’t expect anything from you. But I wanted to give you something that might be helpful. I used my dad’s connections, and I pulled a few strings. It’s an internship offer at Hybe Publishing, a place that handles journalism and creative writing, stuff I know you’ve mentioned wanting to do. They were looking for someone with your profile, and I thought you might be interested. It’s paid, out-of-state so they’re willing to give you housing, and there’s food allowance.”

“I hope you find it useful. It’s not just a favor. I know you’re capable of amazing things, and I just want to help you get there.”

“I also know I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m here, and I’m trying to do better. No matter what happens, I want you to succeed. Don’t let me—or anyone—hold you back.”

“Take care,

 Jongseong.”

You could feel your heart in your throat as you read the letter again. It was a mix of sincerity, guilt, and distance all at once. You’d been trying to move on, to escape the emotional baggage tied to him, but this—this felt like another string pulling you right back into his orbit. You didn’t want to care. You didn’t want to be grateful for this internship offer, not from him. Not after everything. But a part of you was undeniably touched by his effort. You sighed and closed your eyes, trying to ignore the wave of conflicting feelings that hit you.

The internship could be a great opportunity, but the circumstances surrounding it made it feel...tainted.

You placed the portfolio on your desk, feeling the weight of it, both physically and emotionally. You had a choice now—take the opportunity and maybe let Jay back in, or turn it down, and risk cutting ties with a potential future you could’ve had.

Your heart was heavy, but there was only one thing to do.

—

Jay was in his study, tip tapping away at his laptop. Trying to fill the void of his seemingly never-ending guilt by doing his history essay. But his mind kept drifting to you. The look on your face when you stopped you, the look of disgust when he spoke to you, the fire in your eyes when you finally pulled yourself together. Building up a wall that he’s never seen, but only one that someone would do when they’ve been hurt.

He also hadn’t spoken to the guys that much either since what happened the other night. The narcissistic, petty part of him feeling like they were to blame for the demise of what was blossoming between you two.

If only they hadn’t even brought it up, then I wouldn’t have said that. Then I’d probably be the reason she went to sleep happy that night.

He just needed someone to blame. 

This was the longest he’s gone without speaking to them within the two decades that they’ve been friends. But this was Jay’s problem; his pride, all of his life, has been the epicenter of all of his problems in his life. 

He hated crying because he didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they upset him.

When his mom told him to wash the dishes as he was enroute to washing them, he turned right back around because now I’m not doing them just because you told me to.

He hated admitting he was wrong when it really mattered, because he hated looking stupid. 

And now, it was happening all over again—this time with you.

It was his pride that kept him from even admitting he was doing things for you—he didn’t want you to see his affectionate side. He didn’t want to look weak, like he cared.

He was too prideful to apologize to you for the first infraction and that only worsened and festered into a worse situation.

So as he stood up to stretch, groaning as his limbs stretched. His butt ached after sitting in the same chair for two hours. 

Mid-stretch he heard his doorbell ring, which caught him off guard. He hadn’t been expecting any guests but he still went down to open the door.

He skipped down the skips, jumping down when he reached the last two. Then opened the door without looking through the peephole. 

 And there you were.

Standing on his doorstep, clutching something tightly to your chest—the box he mailed to you. Your eyes met his, and for a second, neither of you said anything. Jay’s heart jumped into his throat. He half-expected you to be wearing the same anger you wore the last time he saw you, but you didn’t. You just looked…tired. Tired and hurt.

Two emotions he knew too well.

You held out the box toward him, your arms stiff, like the whole idea of being here repulsed you. “I didn’t ask for this,” you said flatly. Your voice was calm, but Jay could hear the crack underneath it—the exhaustion. The sadness. He swallowed thickly, words jamming up in his throat. You shoved the box lightly into his chest, forcing him to grab it.  

“I don’t need a handout to make myself feel better, Jay. I needed respect. And you made it real clear how little you thought of me.” 

You didn’t even wait for him to respond—you turned around, your hair whipping over your shoulder as you walked back down his driveway, head held high. Jay stood frozen in the doorway, still holding the box, feeling every inch of shame burn under his skin.

For once in his life, he didn’t care if he looked stupid.

“Wait,” he called out hoarsely. You stopped walking and turned around to look at him with a sigh. Jay stepped down from the porch, clutching the box against his hip. “I don’t think little of you,” He put the box down on a small table next to him. “I think the world of you, actually.” He edged closer to you, the heat from his chest radiating onto your skin. 

“I respect you, a lot more than you think.” He reached up slowly, carefully. Now the heat from his hand resting on the top of your head, then running it slowly down your curls. He gently pulled at the end of a strand, letting it spring back into place. “I just want you to give me a chance to show you just how much.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly, your heart warring with your mind. Every instinct told you to push him away—to protect yourself, to keep that wall firmly in place. But Jay’s hand in your hair was so careful. So gentle. Like he was afraid you’d shatter if he touched you wrong.

And for once, his voice wasn’t clipped or cold. It was low, raw, almost pleading.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he said immediately. “I wouldn’t trust me either.” His thumb brushed over the curve of your cheekbone, tentative. “But I’m gonna earn it. Even if you never speak to me again after tonight—I’m still gonna try. You deserve that. You deserve better than what I gave you. I just need one thing from you.”

You looked up at him, really looked at him—the mess of his hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his mouth was set like he was trying to keep it together. Jay, who usually acted like the world needed to catch up to him, was standing there...waiting. For you.

You tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to give you a proposition.

“Just…come inside,” he whispered that last part. A look of desperation in his eyes, pleading. “Please, just come inside. I’ll cook for you, we can watch all the stupid Disney movies you like, a-and you can ask me questions. A million questions and I’ll answer every last one. And I can make you laugh,” He locks your gaze as he rests his hands on your cheeks. “And if you hate me after everything, then I promise on everything I love, I will leave you alone.”

His hands were warm against your cheeks, cradling you like you were something fragile—something precious. His thumbs brushed along your skin, grounding you.

You swallowed thickly, it was so easy to say no—to turn around and walk away. But he was almost hypnotic. His musky, yet sweet cologne. The way he touched and held you like you were fragile and easily broken—which at this moment, you were. The way he spoke to you, like he needed you.

Even with that, it was so dangerous—so easy to say yes. 

And you did. “Fine,” you sigh shakily, “One night,”

Jay let out a breath of a laugh, like you’d just given him oxygen after he’d been drowning. “One night,” he repeated, like a prayer.

He pulled back just enough to scoop the box off the table and then he reached for your hand—tentative, giving you space to pull away if you wanted. You didn’t. Your fingers curled into his automatically, and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring it.

He led you inside—into the warmth of his house, into something uncertain but maybe, just maybe, something still worth saving.

—

The sound of the oven door closing echoed softly through the house as Jay carefully set the temperature and then washed his hands at the sink. His mind was a whirl of thoughts—half of them still about you, but the other half wondering if the food would actually turn out decent.

He wiped his hands on a towel, trying to calm his racing heart. When he turned around, he saw you sitting on the couch, your posture stiff but your eyes tracing the room. He couldn’t blame you for being distant. He wasn’t exactly the picture of trustworthiness.

As he stepped into the living room, he caught the way you looked at the space—familiar, like you were trying to gauge how much of it was still his. So much had changed between the two of you, and it seemed like it was more than just the argument.

You didn’t say anything when he sat down beside you, but Jay could feel the tension in the air. He didn’t push, just letting the silence fill the room.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he spoke softly. “Feel like talking?”

You gave a slight shrug, the barest hint of a frown tugging at your lips, but you didn’t pull away when he subtly edged closer, facing you. His heart skipped a beat, just for a second.

“I’ll do the talking then.” He chuckled, a little nervous but trying to keep things light. “So, um, I can’t cook for shit. Like, it’s honestly embarrassing. But if you want to help me out in the kitchen after this, I’ll…I’ll consider it an investment in our future.”

You suppressed a smile, looking down at the cushion. “Our future…” You smiled, feeling a bit of fluttering in your chest. “I seriously doubt you can’t cook though. It smells good.”

He leaned his elbow against the back of the couch, smiling a bit as he looked into your eyes. The warm lighting only made your golden skin gleam. “I just follow cookbooks, but I was a bit nervous cooking just now so I’m afraid I might’ve messed up. But if all else fails, pizza?”

You smile, “I actually don’t like pizza.” 

His jaw dropped, but in interest. “Really?”

You shook your head shyly, with pursed lips. “Mm-mm, I’ve had it too much. I just feel like all of the pizzas I’ve had just blend together after a while and they all taste the same.”

He laughs, adjusting his glasses, “I just think that’s…sacrilegious. I mean, I can’t imagine a world without pizza.”

You laughed softly, feeling the tension between you both starting to ease just a little. It was a tiny moment, but it was enough to remind you that the Jay you once knew was still somewhere beneath the mess of misunderstandings and pride.

“If you know great places then I’m down for conversion. I will say I’m not easy to please, though.” You shrug.

“Are you a picky eater?” He scooted closer to you, his knee bumping your hip.

You shook your head, “Nah, but I’m just very choosy with the food I eat.”

Jay’s eyes flitted to the side before looking back at you, “So you’re a picky eater?”

“...Basically.”

Jay laughed under his breath, the sound low and boyish, and it made your heart do a little skip before you could stop it.

“You could’ve just said that,” he teased, nudging your leg lightly with his knee again.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “I don’t like the word ‘picky.’ It sounds... bratty.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully, giving you that familiar, lopsided smile. “Nah. I think it just means you know what you want.” His voice was softer now, more serious. “Nothing wrong with that.”

The two of you fell into a brief silence, comfortable this time. Jay’s hand brushed yours as he reached for the glass of water on the coffee table, and you didn’t pull away. It felt like something had shifted between you, even if only a little. He could feel the warmth of your proximity, and though your trust was still fragile, you weren’t pulling away entirely.

“I have a feeling you’re not just here for food, though,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Do you wanna talk?”

You met his gaze again, this time your eyes a little softer. There was something about the way he looked at you now—like he really was ready to listen. That slight openness, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

You nodded slowly, setting your hands in your lap. “Yeah, I guess…there’s a lot on my mind.” You hesitated for a moment, then added, “I don’t know where to start, though.”

Jay leaned forward slightly, his posture open and encouraging. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made you take a breath. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it felt...different. The way he was treating this moment. The way he was treating you. Maybe it was worth it, after all. Maybe.

The oven beeped from the kitchen, and Jay quickly jumped up, eager to distract himself from the heavy silence. “Aha, saved by the bell,” he muttered under his breath, trying to make light of the moment. He motioned for you to stay where you were. “I’ll grab the food, then we can talk.”

—

Jay is usually very particular and prefers to eat at the table, but tonight he set the plates right there on the coffee table, like he didn’t want to be too far from you. It felt almost domestic—your plates side by side, your knees brushing under the low table as you shifted to sit cross-legged. Jay set down a bowl of pasta and some garlic bread, both a little clumsy looking, but still warm and comforting.

He sat down beside you again, closer this time, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

“I figured it’d be easier to eat here,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know...so you don’t run away from me again.” His smile was a little self-deprecating, but there was real hope behind it too.

You picked up your fork, glancing at him with a small smile. “You’re not that easy to get rid of.”

Jay chuckled under his breath. “Not when it comes to you.”

There was that beat of silence again—this time heavier, sweeter, filled with things neither of you dared say just yet. And even though the food was right in front of you, warm and waiting, neither of you moved to take the first bite.

Jay picked up his fork first, twirling it around the pasta halfheartedly before sneaking a glance at you. “You know,” he said casually, “you don’t have to be nice about it. If it sucks, you can just tell me.”

You laughed under your breath, finally taking a bite. To your surprise, it wasn’t bad at all—simple, but good.

“I’m serious. I’m a big boy. I can handle the truth,” he teased.

You swallowed and tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm…edible. Not life-changing, but edible.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Edible? That’s it? You wound me.”

You laughed again, real this time, and Jay’s shoulders relaxed. It was small, but he could tell—you were starting to trust him again, if only a little.

After a few more bites, the playful atmosphere dimmed into something quieter again, like both of you knew there was more to say. You set your fork down, wiping your hands on a napkin.

“I just…” you started, tracing a small pattern on your napkin with your finger. “I guess I didn’t realize how much it would hurt. Hearing you say those things about me. Like I was just…something to joke about.”

Jay put his fork down too, his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer.

“I was stupid,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean any of it. I was trying to—I don’t even know. Look cool? Save face?” He shook his head, disgusted with himself. “It was the dumbest thing I could’ve done. Especially when you…you meant more to me than any of them.”

Your heart ached a little at the admission, but you kept your expression guarded. “But those are your best friends. But still, why not just say that?”

Jay looked down at his hands, flexing them nervously. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t think he deserved you,” he admitted. “And somewhere deep down, I figured if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized it too.” He sighed, “And yeah they’ve been my friends for a very long time but…I’ve never really felt like this before.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening slightly around your napkin.

There it was. The truth, raw and real.

And somehow, hearing it didn’t make the pain worse—it made it a little easier to breathe.

You nudged your knee against his, just barely. “What does that mean?” you muttered, but your voice was soft, teasing.

He looked up introspectively, “I’ve never really liked anyone before. At least not since I was pretty young so that doesn’t count. But it’s just…all of my friends—I love them. They’ve been there for me in spite of my stubborn ways and I don’t know who I’d be without them, truly. They humble me, support me, and everything else. But in case you haven’t noticed…they have their fun.” He looked at you with a bit of a smile. 

You nod with a laugh, “They do, for sure. Love them though!” You hold out your hands in defense.

Jay nods, “Yeah, of course. But I think because I’m obviously with them all the time and some people assume that I’m like them in that way. And really, a part of me has always wanted something more. I don’t just want to fuck people and that be my life. I know I can have that, but I’d rather not have that with just anybody.”

You blinked, caught a little off guard by how candid he was being. Jay was usually careful with his words—measured, sarcastic when he was nervous—but here he was, laying it all out there, raw and unfiltered.

Your voice softened without you meaning it to. “You want something real.”

Jay nodded, the movement slow, almost hesitant. His knee brushed yours again, and this time it stayed there, the small point of contact grounding you both.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I want someone who knows me. Someone I don’t have to perform for. Someone who actually sees me...and doesn’t run.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle between you. Your heart tugged painfully in your chest because you understood more than you cared to admit.

Jay leaned forward a little more, his hands loosely clasped in front of him. “I was scared you were gonna realize how much of a mess I am,” he said, almost in a whisper. “So I tried to ruin it first. Before you could.”

There was a lump forming in your throat now, but you pushed through it, blinking rapidly.

“You didn’t have to be perfect, Jay,” you said quietly. “You just had to be honest.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, nodding, his glasses slipping a little down his nose. His hair was a mess, his shoulders were tense, but he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“I’m trying now,” he said simply. “Even if it’s too late.”

You fiddled with your napkin for another beat, heart pounding in your ears, before you finally whispered, “It’s not too late.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes wide, and you watched the tiniest crack of hope break across his face.

He looked almost boyish like that—caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder.

You shifted a little closer on the couch without thinking, your knees brushing again, your hand still twisted in the napkin. Jay didn’t move, didn’t even breathe for a second, like he was afraid the moment would shatter if he so much as blinked.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out and placed his hand over yours, covering the napkin too, his palm warm and slightly trembling.

“You mean it?” he asked, voice low and earnest.

You nodded, a small, shaky smile playing at your lips. “I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The distance between you grew smaller, like the pull of gravity itself was stitching the space closed. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, featherlight, as if memorizing the feeling.

And when you tilted your head just slightly—an almost imperceptible invitation—Jay leaned in too, slow and tentative, like he was giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Your forehead brushed his first, a soft, clumsy touch that made you both let out breathy laughs. And then, gently, his nose bumped yours, and the world fell into a suspended hush.

His lips brushed yours—barely, barely there—more a question than a kiss.

And when you didn’t pull back, when you leaned in just a little more, the kiss deepened by the barest fraction. Sweet. Careful. Like he was afraid to break you.

Like he was afraid to break this.

He was a little weary of crossing any further boundaries with you. Jay just wanted to be close to you and this was the first time he had felt butterflies in a very long time. So, he just wanted to be careful with you. 

Jay rested his hand on the nape of your neck, gently guiding your lips closer to his—only deepening it. The warm ambience and distant songs from High School Musical 2 only made this funny and sort of endearing. Hearing “Everyday” while he was doing his best to show you what he could mean to you had made him smile into the kiss.

You, on the other hand, were a little cautious as well. But you yearned to cross boundaries, and a part of you knew that he’d let you. You leaned up on your knees to shift onto his lap without breaking the kiss. To which he instantly complied, hands hovering over your figure as you settled onto his lap. You grabbed them and placed them on your hips as your lips danced across each other’s. 

But as much as he loved this feeling, he hated the fact that his glasses kept bumping your face. He quickly moved back, looking you in the eye as he took his glasses off and tossed them to the other side of the couch. Then kissed you with fervor, his hands finally pulling you closer, fingertips skimming the fabric of your shirt, feeling the heat radiating between you both. The kiss was no longer just tentative—it was hungry, urgent, but still delicate, like you both needed this as much as you needed air. Jay’s hands slid from your waist to your back, pulling you even closer, as if afraid the moment might slip away if he didn’t anchor you to him.

You responded, lips parting slightly as your hands roamed up to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss. There was a quiet desperation in the way you kissed him, as if you'd been waiting for this moment forever, yet had never truly realized it until now.

The sound of the movie, still playing in the background, felt miles away. The air between you was thick with everything you hadn’t said yet, with all the things you hadn’t dared to feel. But at that moment, none of that mattered. It was just you and Jay. And this.

He slowly lowered you down onto the couch, the tension in your back simmering as your back hit the plush material. He hovered over you, careful not to crush you with his weight. His affection left your lips and traveled to your cheek, then your jaw, then finally fell to your neck. Swirling his tongue along the sensitive area and sucking gently. This eliciting a gasp from you, your hands caught in his hair. 

The heat between you both only intensified as his lips moved over your skin, each kiss sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You could feel his breath hot against your neck, the weight of his body hovering over you, but still, he was cautious—attentive to every little movement you made. His hands, though still uncertain, were exploring more boldly now, tracing the outline of your body as if memorizing every inch of you.

You arched your back slightly, pressing yourself closer to him, eager to feel more of him, to close that last inch of space that still remained between you. His lips left your neck and found yours again, this time with a fervor that matched the rhythm of your heart. He was all warmth, all hands, and you were lost in the sensation of him.

His hands slid under the fabric of your shirt, fingertips skimming the softness of your skin, and you gasped at the feeling. The sensations were overwhelming in the best way, and you couldn't help but want more, just a little more. The urgency, the heat, the way he kissed you like he'd been starving for it—it was intoxicating.

He pulled back slightly, eyes dark with desire, breath shaky. “I think we should stop.”

His forehead rested on yours as you smiled, stroking his cheek with your fingers. “I think so, too.”

His eyes softened at your touch, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to pause. The room, the air, the buzzing of the movie still playing in the background—it all faded away as you both shared that quiet, intimate moment. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, still so close, his hands resting on the curve of your waist, but not pulling you any further.

He nodded urgently, pulling you up with him. “Yeah, yeah of course.” You both sat up with smiles, but he playfully yanked you close to him by the leg. Resting it by the outside of his hip, locking him between the couch and you. “Do you still hate me?”

You let out a small laugh, the tension between you two melting into something much lighter. His playful tug had pulled you into his space, your leg draped over his, and for the first time in a while, everything felt easy. You met his gaze, eyes softening as you considered his question. “Hate you?” You shook your head, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I don’t hate you.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Oh really?” He leaned in, his voice dropping into a playful whisper. “Then what would you call all those times you wanted to strangle me?”

You snorted, swatting at his arm as you shifted slightly, feeling his warmth next to you. “Definitely not hate. More like... intense dislike.” You grinned, enjoying the lighthearted banter that felt so familiar, so right.

His laughter filled the space between you, the sound genuine and unguarded. “I’ll take that. I deserve it, though,” he said with a shrug, his fingers brushing against your skin lightly as he adjusted his position. “But I’m glad. Glad you don’t hate me.”

You smiled softly, a small, almost shy laugh escaping you. “Yeah...glad, too.” Your fingers traced a pattern across his chest, the easy rhythm of the moment making your heart settle. “But I’m still mad at you, just so you know.”

Jay’s eyes widened in mock horror. “What? I can’t be perfect?”

You snorted again. “No one’s perfect.”

“True.” He nodded sagely, then nudged you playfully. “So, can I redeem myself?”

You met his gaze again, eyes locking for a brief moment. The playful energy between you both was undeniable, but beneath it, there was something deeper that had shifted. You nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. “You’ve already started.”

Jay’s smile softened, his fingers brushing your cheek in a tender, almost reverent way. “Good. I’m not going anywhere. Not if you’ll have me.”

For a beat, you both just looked at each other, the playful teasing giving way to something a little more real, a little more fragile, but also more promising than either of you had expected. And maybe that was enough for now. The rest, the future—everything else could come in time.

And for tonight, you were okay with that.

You got a 94 on that project.

-

Copyright: © zorange13. 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[lrayasostripes]

Rayas at the RTV Tour, 3

Third week of the RTV Tour, by @rtv-puzzlevision-studios

Note 1: Once again, writing this in first person. Also, no drawings here sadly. Only a card

Note 2: My main Oc is in the spectrum. But as the Tour goes, she might slowly try to interact a little bit. Especially when either trying to make social interaction. She eventually shows she's an empath.

Note 3: Interactions to the inserts are all Bg and not always direct for bigger actions, and as to not break the rules. Interactions with Ocs and RTV characters more obvious.

Note 4: YOu Thought she'll have her drawing in her inner vest pocket? Well... what if she loses it again?

Final Note: Same as last post. Rayas is a participant, and not the same for a future RTV version.

Story

“ALRIGHT, THE VOTES ARE IN!" (ouch my ears) "WE ARE GOING TO THE FILM DEPARTMENT!”

A relief, my drawing has been returned to me now. I'm glad Lucian, or Colores, noted where it was and returned it to me. Whichever was, thank you. (I'm thinking, if people helps the other, they receive something in return. But what/how to repay?)

The drawing is tucked nicely in my vest's inner pocket. That way no once could see it. And besides, won't max out the room on my arms, with my umbrella that I brought, and my new Mr Puzzles plushie. Both items I'm keeping close; the make me feel safe and calm

So... what's next? OH right, the Film Department

"The Film Department makes the CORE of the Headquarters, after all Puzzlevison’s main thing is to create MOVIES and SHOWS for everyone!"

As everyone went further away from the Art Department, ahead, there was another staircase. But unlike the first one, this one appears less risky (Wished the first stair case was more of a square one with solid risers. Even if it takes space, it's the safety necessary. But whom would take note to redesign them?)

"I could of course show you all the different studios we have, but I think you may be interested in a PARTICULAR part of said department.”

But then, we all stopped before anything else, close to the second stair case. Um...

Mr Puzzles stepped aside, and let Swag in charge... Mr Puzzles leaves...

Um... why? And then...

(Oh boy)

But luckily, Swag didn't gave the group a hard time as he lead everyone; let alone, making a smug expression with his sunglasses. Guess... he learned quickly of tour guide etiquette? I hope Chris as well could keep him in line. As for Lucian, ever since he returned me my drawing, I now trust him.

And btw, where did R-Mr Puzzles go?

The whole group walks down the second set of stairs; a tall girl with blonde hair tripped (scammer by @leirom71000) (ouch), but i hope she's okay. I decided to subtly look around the participants while keeping my gaze forward. I wonder how Loyboo (@alelathedragon) is doing. I'm not sure why I'm thinking about him, but I think it's because I'm the first person to wanting to talk to him, even if briefly; and made him less nervous thanks to using the shy Boo gesture. Well, there's a whole variety of people here.

Some Humans, some shapeshifters like the dragon girl (Marie from @fenicearts420) from back before entering the Art Department, an alien with droopy antennae (@alien-star88), a sort of cat with just one eye (Creature by @theclosetcreature)(...Oh boy....), the other TV heads such as the same one with the Kuromi cap and purple teeth bar (Crystal by @kuromipuzzles2000) But... one person caught my attention. A silhouette-like girl with just one eye and the other is shaped like a heart (Nickknack by @runrabitrunrunrun); she has two Mr Puzzles plushies (are repeats allowed?). Never mind, but still... something about her caught my attention.

While the group walks down a hall but before going around a corner, and the fact my hearing is sensitive, I could have sworn listening to what appears to be.... someone talking angrily at someone; and another person. I couldn't make out other than "....narrative," "ruin," "...of chance," and "One more..." Even though, I was one row back from the very front row, I still couldn't make out the words before the Group turned around the corner.

(Also, I also heard a participant talking to her Bob plushie, tee hee (Messy by @messydoodlesyt))

"Ahem"

Right there, Mr Puzzles, holding on to another TV head with a black screen and light blue line and curved antennae with one being crooked, by the jacket..... Um.... (What was her name again-)

“- haaave a TALK with you.”, RTV now finished his sentence, before placing the smaller TV head back on the floor.

Um... Don't know what happened from around the corner, but I rather not ask.

But now, it looks like this new Tv head will join us. Now, introductions?

(wait, why did Swag groaned? Is....)

“Hello, bonjour, assalamu alaikum, hallo!”

Her energy... oh no, is she a social butterfly? I have to be honest, I get overwhelmed too much by anyone with that sort of energy. And she's quickly shaking other's people's hands now; I almost dropped my stuff to a participant in front of me who got their hand shaken and got spooked. And startling three participants who where zoned out.

“The name’s Animsay (Um... hi Animsay. Can I call you Ani?), some of you may know me from a certain site, wink wink, others maybe not. I’m the head of the Social Media Department but we will probably get to that later! Probably.”

OH okay, she's the head of the Social Media Department. Wonder how she manages. But then thinking back at the Art Department, I'm glad my drawing didn't flew into a vent again and ended in the Social Media Department if it got picked next... Because in a short time, I learned, she would probably reveal my drawing to Mr Puzzles immediately if it wasn't for the siblings finding it first; and a large audience as well to see it.

"MOVING ON- if you would start following me again.” Announced Mr Puzzles (ouch my ears) now that he takes back the lead. But... I...

I cannot help but notice his voice, even thought sounding he's cheery, I sort of thought I picked up... he sounds slightly more strained. Did... something happened? Was there something bothering him?

Hm... I think it's best not to show my drawing (I just recovered it) to him if he by chance... Isn't feeling too well (emotionally speaking); and also proving it's not the best time to show fan art. Besides, I'm still self-conscious about sharing my stuff to others.

Animsay seems wanting to socially interact, but I.... I'm not ready. At least the participants in the group of three, the robot rabbit (Bunnybot by @selfshippinglover), the fish woman (Sci by@scimagic), and another with the glasses ("Micheal" by @michaelscorneroftheinternet), seem to get her occupied. And then Animsay moves to talk to another participant, that apparently, used to work for Puzzlevision... Wow. And her name was apparently Mia. (Oh, they know each other. And they hugged as well)

Walking through the long hallway, of the Administration Department (and hoping not to get startled by Animsay. Sorry); several sets of doors on the sides with labels. And further, several windows showing outside. I noticed something big and purple outside, but still cannot make out what it is. We are getting close to a set of doors, that Mr Puzzles has his hands on them, and readying to open them.

“I’m sure you’ve GUESSED by now where we are heading..."

The doors are open. I slowly moved forward to get a better look, even if it means... getting slightly closer to Mr Puzzles. (My Puzzles plushie is at least making me feel comfortable if near the real one). A few steps before stepping outside the studio, I opened my umbrella, just in case, the sun was harsh or a light drizzle. (Hope some would understand no one would like to be under the sun, or getting wet. And the umbrella makes me feel safe).

" The SMG4, now SMG3 castle has gotten a bit of a rework to fit more to it’s NEW crew." Continued Mr Puzzles

Now a few steps outside, along with the group joining. Outside is... It's... a very large courtyard. Grass and planted trees around the edges. Some benches are also there. But in the distance, stands a familiar yet different castle. Purple instead of.... (you know)

Mr Puzzles and I think the group, stopped for a moment halfway into the courtyard. Possibly for everyone to admire the courtyard a little longer before proceeding; and, I'm actually standing next to Mr Puzzles, but I'm keeping my eyes on the remodeled castle.

"This area is often used by employees during BREAKS by the way. It can be accessed from ALL building blocks..." said Mr Puzzles as he indicated the rest of the courtyard. At some parts, there are other buildings nearby, but I focus on the castle on the distance in front of us.

(I wonder if he noticed my presence after finishing talking, and a moderate pause before getting to the castle)

Even with the castle's colors being different... everything is still beautiful.

You know... I wonder if... other than trees, would they also plant a variety of flowers as well. I don't know why, but I'm thinking of white roses... A field of white roses. And it's petals... flying in the breeze... I couldn't help but close my eyes, and (as quietly as possible) hum a tune from the chorus of a Portuguese song from a video game (that also mentions about white roses and full view of its trailer video).

And maybe... the combination of color palettes to the castle, all endless. But little did I realized, Animsay has moved from the middle of the group, to next to me. Now two TV heads are on both sides of me. (And I wanted to again, interact with the Kuromi Tv head or the other ones)

The group start walking.

"Hello," greeted Animsay, and I open my eyes slowly as trying my best not to appear startled. "You like the courtyard?"

I look at her, and I nod politely.

(as long as she doesn't have physical eyes, I feel less nervous)

"Same here. Neat umbrella."

"Thanks." I said

I just hope this interaction didn't get Mr Puzzles' attention. But I try my best to act natural. I hold on to my new plushie in reassurance.

"Oh, you managed to get a plushie of my boss, congrats!" (is she reading my actions or....?)

"Yes." I add that with a small smile, and hugging my plushie.

"Hm... I know it's only for a very short time, but you aren't much of a talker are you?" asked Animsay. (does she know what I have, or is she coaxing me to speak more?)

(Oh boy...)

I'll have to be honest to tell her.

"Well..."

But before I could say anything, I hear a cough from Mr Puzzles. I believed aimed to Animsay, as if saying. 'Now now. Don't overwhelm our dear participants.' I didn't look up to see his screen/face (too nervous).

(I guess now I understand why Swag groaned earlier. Well, I can't blame?)

Animsay takes the hint.

"Oh okay, I'll go back with the others. Ciao."

Well. There she goes. I glance up to Mr Puzzles from my umbrella, he shows a soft expression as if apologizing if I felt overwhelmed; almost as if he knows Animsay better for being too much. Unsure if he knows about the blue puzzle piece's meaning, or he's soft because I'm holding on to my new Puzzles plushie (or, maybe he noticed my scarred face, and feels pity?) I politely lightly smile. (and not sure where I found the strength to not quickly look away, as if avoiding him. I don't want to appear rude, but looking at faces make me nervous... still to this day, but I have progressed greatly in the past)

Also um... after I turned to look in front, why do I feel like... Has anyone gotten the feeling it's going to be slightly windy, or is it just me?

Now in front of the main doors of the purple castle, Swag and Chris go over to open them. As the doors slightly open, everyone slowly walks to get inside. As I got to close my umbrella, and letting some pass.... something falls off from my vest...

My... Drawing... (I was sure i put it in my inner pocket. Did I misplaced it?)

And in a desperate action, I try to lean down for it, but a gust of wind blows it into the air! Oh... oh no... After I recovered it back from Lucian! And even though I trust him, I'm too embarrassed to ask him. (And did he saw it flew away? or say the face I was making?) Sigh... I don't want a small thing to ruin the tour. I'll move on. I have not crossed the bridge.

Well, moving on.

“WELCOME TO THE SMG3 CASTLE!”, RTV announced, now moving in the middle of the room, next to the crew gang who had meanwhile been gathering while the group fully walked in.

Looking around, it is surely redecorated to fit SMG3's Aesthetic. And, if you all know, purple is a royal color, fun fact. Looking around, and then at the ceiling... the appearance making it look like the night sky.... (I sort of feel tempted to open my umbrella, and dance around and spin, and getting lost into a starry trance-)

I heard the doors close behind, yet I didn't looked back. I knew, my drawing is still flying out there; and I rather not risk slipping out. Oh, Animsay is staying in? ....okay?

Looking back at the center of the castle's lobby, the 'SMG3 Gang' show up lined up; and in uniform (?). Well, hello SMG3 Gang.

(Hm... Tari has no cybernetic arm? I rather not ask)

“Hey! I’m SMG3, but I’m pretty sure ya know that already. I’m the head of the Film Department and also the leader of the SMG3 gang. Me, Tari, Meggy and Boopkins welcome you to our crib- I mean base of operations!”

Hi?.. huh, not sure if I'm looking right, or hearing , but he sounds... tired? (I'm observant). Hm....

(Also, Mr Puzzles really IS TALL!)

But then, Meggy starts to explain more about the Film department, Puzzlevision movies and shows. There's Block C, which I think it's the other building at the courtyard. So... the SMG3 Gang not only act, but also do all the editing and stuff. And then revised by Mr Puzzles (huh...) Well, okay.

(I cannot help but briefly glance at SMG3. And, Tari as well)

“So yeah, if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask them! Other than that feel free to explore the castle! I know a lot of fans always want to see it, so go ahead.”

Oh that's nice. But um... are there rules about looking around, or what NOT to do?

“You can go anywhere except for the room upstairs. It's, uh, not cleaned up.” Added SMG3.

Oh okay, no going up the stairs. I'll respect that. (Those stairs seem more safe than the first ones, sorry)

Well, we can ask questions to the Gang, go have a snack to the kitchen, rest and watch anime with Boopkins (ha, seem very eager to show mini episodes), use the restroom (is there just one or several toilets...?), and go to play games with Tari in the game room. The storage? Um... why? But... so many people, I don't know where to start, or who to talk to. Besides, I need to get myself busy from thinking about my recently lost drawing (a second time). Let's see... The SMG3 gang are a lot smaller than... well, you know (I repeat, this place is different with its own rules... and people). Hm... SMG3? hm... I don't know. He almost appears tired, yet he's willing to answer questions (poor guy, maybe he's tired because he forgot to clean the upstairs room at the last minute and couldn't get it done?). I could go over and ask Meggy some questions; in the introduction, she and Boopkins seem to be in a good mood today on the tour. Wonder if she's still a coach of sorts. But also... I need to also be careful with my questions; I also noticed but unlike SMG3, she has faint shadow under he eyes. I hold onto my umbrella and Puzzles Plushie for comfort.

She's already answering other's questions, so I shake off whatever nerves I have, and approach. Also, some have Meggy's plushie, so she has fans.

"Um, hello." I greet Meggy. "Meggy?" She notices me.

"Oh hi. Do you have some questions? Go ahead."

"Well. You and the rest act during filming, so um... What sort of roles do you get? I... I mean, everyone gets?"

(I just hope she didn't noticed my hesitation and moments I cut eye contact. Meeting someone face to face is... overwhelming. Especially, someone different. Not new, but different)

"Well, the acting roles can vary. I for the most part, plays the character who always goes into action, and helps others when they need it! Heh. I even still have the skills of a life coach."

I'm glad to hear that. She can encourage the Gang to have their spirits up; and happy to hear she' still same as always. Hm... but recalling that I noticed SMG3 somewhat tired (am I the only one to notice?), is that even true? I rather not ask about that.

"Alright, another question I have. So..." I think about... I fidget my blue puzzle piece tie clip. "About... um,...." I struggle to think of one.

"No worries, the question that you want, it'll happen soon. Keep trying." Meggy assured me, but it feels like... wanting me to rush me (still good old Meggy i think)- wait, I think I got it! But I want to make sure, I don't point out and offend her (I recall... she can be... a little... hasty. Plus, her reaction, can be very different here). No actually, maybe something else... here it goes.

"Alright, do you learn new things from ongoing experience? I'm wondering, like... trying to be someone else's role model with new experiences?" I then add. "I'm... just curious. Because... there's so many people who are different. Like... me. Who could want advice."

Meggy thinks for a bit.

"Well, I do. Though not much goes, but yeah I learn a thing or two. And um... I did said I still have it as a life coach, I'm afraid I'm a little busy. So, trying to be role model may... be put on hold." Well, It looks like she can no longer do more things, despite earlier sounding like her coach persona. Never mind, I'm waiting for the other question. "As for people different like you...? I... don't know. Care to explain?"

Okay, I'll be honest of myself. I subtly fidget my blue puzzle piece tie clip. Hope Meggy catches on about it.

"Well... Um, I... I'm not much of the type to talk or socialize with others; but that's because... I'm already born with it. Believe me that, I tried to look up to other's for guidance for a very long time ago... a role model... And sometimes the fictional ones on TV..."

As I explain from my experience, Meggy keeps listening. She's... understanding everything. Listening to my struggles. And what I did with a combination of everyone's advices and my own. And maybe a teensy lore drop about (but not all of it) the meaning of my scarred eye and that I found acceptance and lived with it.

"And... well, so far in the tour, it's going well for me. I even spoke to a shy participant a while ago. Small, but it's something. That's why... I get curious to learn new things, but making sure I can do at my own. And how I do it."

Meggy nods.

"I understand. You know what... I think you taught me something new." She smiles and lightly laughs lightheartly. "Ha Heh, well, I'll follow your advice then. And I'll keep in mind of making sure you are accommodated. Thanks for letting me know. You are very brave, that maybe you can teach others."

OH? I... what!? I was dumbfounded by that. If i said I couldn't find a role model, then... am I a role model myself and never noticed?

"Oh, and... knowing there's many participants and might not remember their names. What's yours?"

"My name's Ra-"

"Hallo!" Out popped Animsay out of nowhere. This scared me that I accidentally sent my Puzzles Plushie flying and dropping my umbrella; I bent to pick it up. And I think it also startled Meggy and nearby participants. "Hey, Meggy. How's it going with answering questions of others?"

While they are distracted, that's my cue that I'm done asking questions. I pick up my umbrella that is near, and go to my plushie that flew near the stair case. The east wing. (hope no one mistakes it as theirs since all Mr Puzzles' plushie look all the same)

"Ahem?"

I turn around, and it was SMG3. OH boy, the displeased look is making me nervous. And he's standing near my plushie; he goes and picks it up before I could. But before he would say anything.

"I apologize... I came to pick up my plushie... um... Animsay came and... I got spooked badly... I wasn't going up the stairs. I would never go against the rules you set. Oh... and Hi" I awkwardly wave at him.

Then, I got distracted that, with my sensitive hearing, did I heard like a dog whining? And it came up the stairs. I think SMG3 picked up.

"Is there... a dog up there?" I casually ask, the nervousness replaced by curiosity.

"...Yes. But, I cannot bring him out. And if you are curious, I already fed him before you guys came. And, again, not going up the stairs."

"Alright." I answered politely. SMG3 hands me back my Mr Puzzles plushie.

And then, the participant with the horns, red eyes and red ribbons (Grinnanes by @grinnames), approaches him with a large smile; seeing she has his plushie, she's a fan of him. I overheard her name is Grinnames.

Once they leave, I glance at the guest room. The door is open.

So, the guest room is for everyone to relax, and watch whatever anime Boopkins would play. I got to be honest, I used to watch anime, but only the Saturday mornings... English dub edit (4Kids TV, sorry but lol); so... not used to the... larger... variety. I was not aware I was staring from the door's frame as a random anime was playing; a habit of watching something on TV from afar or behind the window.

The mini anime ended there (something about a gang of con artists, I never heard of), and as Boopkins stood up to look for another one, he looked at me peaking from the door. I... felt a bit embarrassed and surprised.

"Oh hello, are you coming to watch anime?"

Well, he's inviting me. Being polite, I agree and come into the guest room. There are a few participants in the room, all mostly chilling, drawing, but also watching anime. And also, the guest room looks slightly different than I remember (again, different place).

"Hello." I greeted the little guy.

"We finished a mini anime episode so... OH! How about you pick one to watch?"

Oh, is he giving me the honors? Well, if there's one anime series I enjoy watching, it's Pokemon.

"Pokemon." I answered. And since Boopkins will show only mini episodes. "Um... the Pikachu and Pichu short from the Pikachu shorts?"

I got to be honest, that short is my favorite. And I hope, Boopkins has it; and still likes Pokemon.

"Hm... Oh yeah, I think I do have it! It's bundled with the Spell of the Unown Movie. Let me set it up!"

Boopkins waddles to look into the DVD case of all the anime he has, and sure enough, he finds it. And now... Settle to sit on a bundle of pillows, set my Puzzles plushie on my lap and umbrella next to me... show time. The anime reminded me when I was young; I love Pokemon. Oh the little adventures of the Pokemon, making friends... having fun... causing minor mischief as they run around the city... As I'm waiting for the part of the playground...

I... didn't realized that Boopkins left, and brought a reluctant SMG3 to the guest room. But where's Grinnames? (hm... not an anime fan? or Pokemon fan?)

"...Fine, what are we watching?" I heard SMG3 grumble a little.

"We are watching a Pokemon short! It's pretty good." But I wasn't expecting to hear... "And she (me) picked just the right one that is an old classic."

I looked over, and... SMG3 looks at me; I, being the one who picked the anime short. He raises an eyebrow while keeping a serious yet tired look. Shrugs and sits next to me... moving my umbrella close to me. (so awkward after the incident with the plushie on the staircase).

But anyways, me and the ones present continue watching the Pokemon short.

As it went, I thought I heard SMG3 mutter, "Decent choice"

:0....

Seeing the scene of the Playground Pikachu and the Pichu brothers playing along with the siblings' friends, it makes me wonder, if there could be a playground built like that (albeit with better safety measures). I would like to go around and explore a playground like that. And, everyone would also want to...

Out of the corner of my eye, the window of the guest room is partially open. And... My drawing flies in! Flying up on the ceiling and not (somehow) falling down; and no one notices it (phew). (I'm sweating imaginary bullets). I was just about to stand up slowly when-

"So... How's the anime binge watching going?" It's Animsay... (did she just got here?)

My drawing flew near a vent and... disappears... Oh boy. Where did it go? (Why do I feel like, it's going to repeat again? and maybe... Lucian won't be the one to find it again this time)

"OH Ani, hi! greeted Boopkins. "Anime is pretty good!"

"Eh, good I guess..." said SMG3. "At least, something okay. Boopkins gave Robo-fox umbrella girl (me)-"

"Ahem?" It looks like Animsay doesn't like nicknames. Well, technically, SMG3 doesn't know my name, so I don't take offense to it.

"Ugh... Boopkins gave the tour participant here the honors to pick an anime short to watch. For once" he mutters the last part.

"We just about to finish the Pikachu short movie. I'm thinking to putting on another mini short; And I think, maybe watch another classic Pikachu short anime."

"Mind if i join?" said Animsay.

"Yes!" Boopkins beams.

She sits down. "I was almost done talking to a half of participants (half?), then got bored and came here. Btw..." I notice her look at me. "Your uniform stands out a lot, because it was the first thing I saw before coming in the guest room. You like stripes?

I have to be honest, I do.

"Yes"

Despite the remaining minutes left on the short movie, I grab my plushie and umbrella, and slowly get up.

"Bye," said Boopkins. "It's nice having you watch anime."

I smile. I leave the guest room.

Now... where did my lost drawing went? In the kitchen, the bathroom, the storage room, the game room....? You know... in either room, I'm sure I'll find it. Btw, 20 minutes passed, so... I guess being here will last an hour or an hour and with an additional half an hour? I better hurry...

Next is.... the game room with Tari I guess. I'm curious what games to play with her. A glance around the castle's lobby as I approach the game room, I see the silhouette-like girl again, standing and not interacting with anyone with a slightly irritated look... Hm... I'll try to speak with her later.

Entering the game room. Sure enough, the interior remains almost unchanged; still with purple hues and different carpeting, but it's still much the same. I see a couple of participants playing on the retro arcade games, and looking to the sofa and big Tv screen, there's Tari, and another participant, playing Super Smash Bros Ultimate...

Wait... Tari doesn't have her special arm now that I remember (this Tari), how is she still playing? And... has she... changed? Never mind, I survey the game room a little to check if my drawing ended up in here... It's not here.

My attention turns back to Tari and the little girl.

"Ha ha! Great play." said Tari to the participant. (is it just me, or i heard a hint of defeat?)

(Hello)

Apparently, I think they won. And if I recall, Tari was super good on video games; but all thanks to her cybernetic arm...

...Was...

Never mind, since the drawing isn't here, might as well get distracted with some games to ease my anxiety to look for it; if I got it back for playing the waiting game and not get in trouble, it'll return to me without consequences again. Now, everyone seems to want to play on the arcade games and with Tari. Is there room for another? Or,... looking how she is, maybe there could be a different game she and I can both play? Maybe later...

"Hello." I greet Tari from next to the couch.

"Oh hi." She greets back. "Want to play?"

"I... yes. It's Smash Bros Ultimate? Because... used to play Melee and Brawl; the latter, with the GameCube controller."

Huh, I talked without the nervousness in my voice.

"Of course, everyone would like to play and challenge me" She smiles, but... I feel, she feels a bit down. Like as if she gets beaten in the game now. And gotten used to it. Her old title of being good at games now limited.

"Well..." I turn to the participant. "Say, how about I challenge you to a match? I'll main Kirby." I want to "avenge" Tari for losing her title, sort of. But also have fun.

The participant looks at me as if pensive with a low brow. But nods shortly. I sit on the couch, set my umbrella and plushie between Tari and I...

3... 2... 1... GO!

One match later, with life stocks of 4, I almost beaten the participant but they bested me; I'm a bit rusted from the game, and first time using a Switch controller. At first, three stocks taken from me, but then I tied quickly. I could tell everyone in the room and some from the lobby got close to see how it went since the tie round was taking slightly longer with no winner yet; and possibly betting I was going to kick their butt. But a bad timed sneeze (but a good timed meme), I missed a combo, dropped my controller, my hair frizzed up (my hair clips somehow staying strong), and my Kirby got sent to space by their main. They won. Yet, Tari and few others clapped at me anyways. And some still reeling from laughing of the sneeze I made. I didn't realized (until much later) SMG3 came to see the commotion, and my Pomeranian like sneeze made him laugh the Mutahar Laugh sound effect (I thought it was another participant with a very ticklish funny bone); I'll get to it later.

GG

"Ha ha, well done. You did played the game before, and you almost won." She smiles brightly at me.

"GG" said someone.

It looks like the participant wants someone to challenge them. They got their win streak alright. Everyone huddles to have a turn. I quickly gather my Puzzle Plush and umbrella before I accidentally leave them.

I think it's time I ask Tari questions.

"Well, I think everyone has a controller. So Tari, do you have any board games or card games to play?"

Tari nods and guides be to a shelf with boardgames. She asks which one, so I scan them... one of them gets my attention: Inscryption.

"And Tari, do you know about the video game version as well?" I asked out of curiosity if she knew.

"Ah yes. The game mechanics, the story, the Scrybes, found footage... and..." Ah, she knows it.

Time for a bit of humor.

"GO Fish"

This earns a soft giggle out of Tari. I think she knows who the Angler character is. Seeing her smile... makes me happy.

The Inscryption game is set, and settling on Leshy's version; there's the Dead cards, Magick cards, and Technology cards, but Leshy's is pretty interesting. Shuffling the cards, and splitting the Squirrel cards, setting Leshy's scale. But of course, Leshy's version has a... dark edge to it, so I helped make the Leshy version less edgy with improvised ways I came up as to make Tari less uneasy. I also improvised an additional mechanic to the candles, of who can snuff all two candles first to win (and a custom DeathCard as a consolation price); sort of like the Kaycee's Mod, and Tari also knows about it and finds it entertaining. And besides, I curiously decided to act like Leshy's narration and character. (Insert Inscryption, "Death Card Cabin" ost)

"The stalwart Snapper, a near impenetrable defense..." or "The amorphous Amoeba. Its sigils are ever changing."

And some of the cards during play, they have sigils; and others post- added as patches, as if they went through the Mysterious Stones as seen in the digital video game (has the Crew Gang played it before and left the sigil stamps on?). Like, some have more than two; limit is 4 sigils. I love that mechanic; I think all the mechanics of Leshy's and P03's are good.

Oh, and since Tari doesn't have her other arm/hand to hold her cards, my Puzzles Plushie is there to hold them for her, easy. She at first was nervous at it, and I admit, it almost looks as if it's looking at you; and a bit distracting. But telling her since my Puzzles Plush is mine and if I'm not the type to make anyone uncomfortable, so my plush is same as I. And as the game went, we also chatted a little; all the while I secretly want to make Tari win. (to secretly to boost her confidence,.... and I want a custom DeathCard, ha ha)

I even talked about the Scrybes: Grimora, Leshy, P03, and Magnificus. That, what if they worked together. Leshy could be the narrator/storyteller, Grimora would write the story and lore of the world and characters, P03 could be the mechanics designer, and Magnificus the one to make the game's art. There could be harmony... they could have made an amazing game. Tari ponders on that... and nods as if understanding.

The game didn't took more than 7 minutes that passed... And note, I think games of any kind brings out my more social side.

"So, I'm curious to ask Tari. Do you also take video game requests to play by others?" Now, because remember the song I quietly hummed in the courtyard that is from a video game? It's time I talk about it. Me and Tari are tied with one "lit" candle left each.

"Well... I think you are the first one to ask that." (Oh? the first?) She answers meekly. "Everyone all wanted to play Smash Bros matches today... what are my favorite video games, and well..." She trails off, but returns to hear from me. "Okay, what game you want me to check out?" She's 2 points on the scale from losing, but I won't let her.

"There's this game that is a Puzzle RPG game, with pixels and everything. The title is called "Lenin the Lion." And it has a semi bittersweet story, about the only albino lion born in a village of normal lions...."

A small skip to avoid spoilers, and saying how the game resonated with me.

" ...The whole game is about learning self-acceptance... And it also has a good soundtrack and art."

And then... Tari wins, but still listening to the topic. She nods. I reach to make a custom Death Card, as the table is cleared so Tari, can play as Leshy, to help me build it with my deck.

"Well, I'm more of a competition type of gamer, but your video game request caught my attention. I think I'll look it up." (YES!)

Cost None (thanks to a Geck); Attack 3 and Health 3 (from an Amalgam); Sigils (from a pre-buffed Amoeba) Amorphous, Sharp Quills, and Unkillable.

(Wow, most of the ones are rare Beasts cards)

Next is... the name-

"You seem like a good and fun person, Rayas. I love the creativity of how to play it, like as if you came up with a new Mod." And finally... the portrait. "Okie dokie, say cheese!"

"GG"

"GG"

Me and Tari shake hands. Ha ha, just like-

"HII!" Loudly saluted Animsay, startling some of the participants; including me and Tari. "Who's winning?" she comes in the game room.

(Oh boy, is Animsay going to keep popping up? or... is she following me?)

"Um... hi Animsay," shyly answered Tari. I politely waved after reeling from the surprise.

"Hey, how come you are not playing Smash Bros with everyone?" She looks at the table. "Oh, what's this? In...scryption...?"

Looking at both girls, I noticed the change in the mood, almost as if... something wasn't meant.... Wait, let me see how to diffuse that. Hm... I got it!

"Hi... Me and Tari were having fun with this tabletop game I asked to play. Would you... like to play?"

It appears Animsay is curious now. And her blue line that serves as her mouth shapes as if smiling. I think it's a yes. Tari stands up to go and play with the other participants, and leaving me with Animsay. But question is... does Animsay know how to play it?

So basically, Animsay, realized she indeed not know much of Inscryption, but she "downloaded" all the info. Ha ha, the loading screen sort of looked like P03's three dots when loading. Looking at her head, she really gives me P03 impression in appearance based on her "face." So, she wanted to play Technology style, and I like it, but um... I like Beasts style... But wait, to diffuse that, why not try Technology and Beasts? Animsay can use Technology, and I'll use Beasts. And maybe include the Mox vessels and Kaycee's Mod items and cards to make it more interesting.

Ha ha, I cannot believe I came up with a new Mod: Rayas' Mod, Nature versus Technology.

The time of playing it against Animsay, it feels like as if she's the Scrybe of Technology, and I'm the Scrybe of Beasts; P03 versus Leshy. Well, my head shape is confusing, it's a fennec fox head, but it has metal parts (but the cog gear on my head is completely natural... and still natural I am); but based on a quote from the Iron Giant, I can choose who I want to be.... Leshy... So far, the game is going well. And, even using my custom Deathcard for a spin, ha ha! (and then Animsay learned my name that way). Some small talk, as usual (because Animsay is a social butterfly, and I'm trying to be polite)

"Hope you didn't mind that before going in, I heard you talk a storm with Tari." said Animsay. "I'm glad you are opening up. When I met you, you only spoke short sentences..."

I nod in acknowledgement and I say, "I also like games, like Tari."

"Ahem? Animsay..." I heard the familiar voice of R Mr Puzzles. I heard almost everyone stop what they were doing, and waited. (creepy...) His tone sounded... ominous, or slightly annoyed? Did something happened out of the Game Room? He comes into the room (I bring my plushie closer to me), but a few feet away from the table me and Animsay are. And Mr Puzzles somehow makes a gesture for everyone to carry on.

"Ah, hello Boss. I was here all along, just playing with the participants. And definitely not making a ruckus, ha ha." Animsay is telling the truth, she's been here playing Inscryption with me the whole time. Hm... is this... my cue to leave the game with no winner, or do I wait to continue playing since we are tied for 9 minutes? (plus, i have a lost drawing to find) (but I'm curious for another Deathcard, whether the Leshy version or the fancy neon blue Technology base if Animsay loses; if the latter, the "Ani-Bot")

"Is that so? Well... Alright! Just checking where you went to. And the tour wouldn't truly go without the Head of the Social Media Department, yes?" He then turns to look at me (...eyes...). "Has she given you any trouble?" (I think he remembers the courtyard ramble)

"No, not at all," I politely answer with a shake of my head. "We are having fun. The game is going well."

He lightly smiles.

"Well, then," he turns to Animsay (phew). "Just wanted to say, 18 more minutes before announcing the next voting." I heard that.

So, shortly, there was no winner since Animsay quickly went to play one of the arcade machines, but not before we shook hands as a sign of GG. Though, I noticed she looked at my hand a little longer, as if gazing at it; it's probably nothing. And before I left, after gathering my umbrella and Puzzles Plushie, I went to thank Tari that she got to play one game with someone she enjoyed. She smiles.

Now in the Lobby, with the minutes left for the next vote, I'm feeling a little hungry. I went to the kitchen, and hope there's still something left to eat. Once again, I look around the crowd, and the same silhouette girl is just there, dissociating.... and rubbing her head. Hm... but my body is telling me to eat, or I might starve during the remainder of the Tour.

Alright, not all of the snacks and drinks are gone, because I just witnessed the girl with the horns and red ribbons, Grinnames, raid the kitchen!! (slow down). There's some pizza, some donuts, a bowl with many candy, cheese puffs, water, coffee, tea, soda... So glad none of it ran out, because I quickly scooped what I'll eat before she does; and I'm lucky to find the last slice of an All-cheese Pizza (yummy). While eating my fill, I see her starting to cook. What is it she making? And is that allowed, other than not going up the stairs? Hm... I leave my stuff on a table, and go to near the coffee maker and some packets of tea. I look a little longer, and I found a glass container of powder green tea; matcha. This sparks me an idea. If Grinnames is cooking something, I think I would as well.

Managing to find milk, powdered cinnamon, a bit of syrup, and the tool to make the matcha froth (and search on Google ha ha), I start up to making a matcha latte. I have tasted it before, and it was good, very good. And I'm going to make one... I never made matcha latte...

I glance a little, and Grinnames is cooking... something. Not sure what it is, but hope she knows what she's making. I don't think she looked what I was making; busy much? And, for herself, or for someone? OH, for someone actually. After it is done, she leaves it in the fridge. A surprise...?

Well, as for me... i think I accidentally made too much to be just for me.... i find a pitcher, luckily.

Just as I add the powdered cinnamon as the final touch, I could swear it released a strong earthy aroma; it was good based on the smell filling the kitchen. Did I do it right? Shortly, SMG3 comes into the kitchen, smelling the air. He looks around, and finds me, with the finished matcha latte in a large-enough paper coffee cup; and the left over in a medium size pitcher because I'm not always good with measurements, but final product turning out decent nonetheless. I don't know how to describe the expression, but I hope it isn't what I think because I used some kitchen equipment and stuff from the fridge and pantry; or because it seems during the day wherever he goes, I'm always there somehow (not my intention). I look at Grinnames, and she beams with her eyes; so the dish is a surprise for him?

"What... are you doing?" SMG3 addresses me first, he slowly walks to me. His look and tone... I don't think using the equipment and ingredients in the kitchen is allowed...

Grinnames points to the fridge as a the surprise, but SMG3's attention is solely at me. And not in a good way. His eyes look exhausted... tired..

I have to be honest.

"I... made myself a matcha latte... um... I'll clean the utensils I used before leaving, um..." I'm a wreck... But maybe... "But... do you want some?"

SMG3 looks at me, and the matcha latte in my hand. Um...

He finally grabs it. Smells it a little bit, and finally a sip... And, as he closes his eyes, I thought I saw the shadow in his eyes fade very slowly; or maybe my anxiety is making me see things? What does he think of it?

(I... on the first try...!)

"This latte... It's good, very good." He says softly, and... a soft smile contrasting his usual Evil Cool persona. "I really needed it."

"I... Glad you like it," I sort of couldn't help but, thinking of wanting to hug-

I heard a small growl in the kitchen. It was Grinnames. She looks irritated, but why... Oh! I just took SMG3's attention from the surprise dish, unintentionally. She worked so hard on it! Ugh, how to make it up for it? (and making sure she doesn't hold a grudge on me throughout the tour) Hm...

"Um... the latte isn't the only thing. You see..." Indicating Grinnames, she stops growling. "She and I,... have a surprise we cooked." The girl's expression changes to confusion.

"...You did?" the she asks confused, as if she doesn't know what I'm trying to do.

"We did," I "corrected." I open the fridge, and she takes out the mystery surprise dish after getting the message. Now, she looks anticipated for SMG3 to try the dish; a positive glow in her eyes.

The dish doesn't have a physical description, but I hope it pays off. After cutting a piece for SMG3, and me to try as well (out of politeness and curiosity), and a bite...

"Mmm! This dish is out of the park! I tell you, you two outdid it." He gives the thumbs up, with his iconic smirk.

I admit, the physically indescribable dish is delicious (might ask on how to make it with a little bit of a la Rayas style). My matcha, well, my first time and never done it in my life... it's decent. Grinnames smiles.

I'm glad I made her happy again after clearing the misunderstanding.

"Well, thanks for the surprise girls. The latte and the dish, I'm sure the Gang will like it. I appreciate it." He leaves...

(I guess my matcha is part of the surprise then...)

Now alone in the kitchen...

"Do you have brain damage?" Grinnames asks me. Guess she's still confused.

"Um... what?" (don't have brain damage, but does the cog gear on my head makes it look like that?)

"I didn't see you helping me with my cooking. Or did you secretly help me, because you're some sort of mysterious good Samaritan?"

I chuckle lightly.

"Well..." I explained how much she worked on the surprise dish for SMG3 and the Gang, and it was unfair that SMG3 didn't noticed it first. And that I wanted to clear the misunderstanding and made sure SMG3 finds the surprise. Her dish, it's delicious! She understood, and smiles (those teeth...)

"I'm Rayas," I extend my hand for a handshake.

"I'm Grinnames" we shake hands (hello Grinnames)

(I think I made another friend in the tour group)

Well, I think it's almost time for the next vote? Before leaving the kitchen, I serve myself my matcha from the leftover in a paper coffee cup after drinking my first round (offscreen); a smaller one to take to make it last for the Gang. And not forgetting to wash the utensils used, and clean everything, I remember. I grab my umbrella and plushie, and head to the lobby. And, Animsay has not popped up in the kitchen (sorry...).

Hm... the drawing wasn't in the kitchen so...

"Hey"

I look, and it's SMG3. He gestures me to talk to me. He still has not finished the matcha latte I made.

"You got something stuck on your back."

Oh? I reached behind and... It's my drawing! Did it got stuck moments before leaving the kitchen. I hope it wasn't facing for the world to see... luckily it isn't (not sure how one member of the SMG3 Gang will react to the existence of other places... and other Puzzles...). I quickly pocket it (and making sure it is tucked in the right place this time), and I thank SMG3 for spotting it but while being vague what it is. But before turning around...

"I got to say... you aren't so bad."

"Oh?"

"Well... you made me at least like a Pokemon from the anime you picked. The Houndour..."

"Well, the Houndour is a dark type... And there's more with that type."

"Exactly... When you made that Pomeranian sneeze at the game room, Oh I never thought I would laugh my a** off. There are times during filming I don't get to see something really REALLY funny happening to laugh at. The way your head shook and your hair frizzing up were the best."

He was the one who made the Mutahar Laugh alright. Glad I made him laugh. I giggle at that.

"Lastly, other than the dish you and Grinnames made, that matcha latte... it made me feel less exhausted and much calmer. Making myself less tired for the next filming deadlines to come...," he pauses for a moment as if realizing he's bringing up his work, but brushes it. "Besides, I'm sure the Gang will love the dish and latte. They will need it just as I." (awww)

I smile hopefully. And i think now... I can give him questions now.

"I'm glad you are, SMG3. I admit, I was nervous around you after the incident with the staircase... but I think I'm feeling ready to ask. H-Here it goes... What do you think of the tour so far?"

SMG3 ponders for a moment. Scratching the back of his neck (Is that missing texture on his... oh, right)

"... Honestly, a bit weary; and maybe still. I won't get into detail, but as the head of the film department, and as editor and actor, it can get a bit much. Sometimes when getting ready to some big event, you try your best to have enough rest and rehearsed. I think it's the nerves. As of the Tour right now, a lot of people being strangers... I think... I thought this will be like... too much at first. People all from around, and imagining getting more tired as you try to answer their questions. But... the right answer for that..." SMG3 looks at me with a calm look. he sips the final ounces of the matcha. "Not too bad at all. Not everyone here is... weird. It's just being them. Again, thanks for the matcha latte and dish. Um... I called you earlier "robo-fox umbrella girl," so... what is your name?"

"You are welcome SMG3. My name is Rayas." SMG3 smiles.

"Heh, I noticed you aren't much of a talker before, but hey. You warmed up."

Well, he doesn't think it's all bad; but when I saw his tired expression, he probably thought he couldn't go on with it. But if he found the tour not bad at all... I wonder if its because of me, a visitor, going on tour with everyone... I smile at the fact at least I and Grinnames, help make something for the Gang. I wonder if SMG3 figured out, that I'm in the spectrum with the last comment.

As SMG3 goes to throw the cup to the trash, Boopkins shows up and comes to me.

"Hi, I heard the tour group will be leave soon, so since I gave you the honors to pick an anime, here's a little present." Boopkins reaches from a pocket, and takes out an acrylic Pichu Brothers keychain. I'm... speechless. But I thank him and accept the present.

"Thanks... Boopkins" I say before he indicates me to bend down. He gives me a side hug... and then he skips happily elsewhere.

I.... i....

(is this allowed or....?)

And shortly after that, Tari comes over.

"Hello Rayas." she greets me, before she reaches for something in her pocket. "Here, glad to have played with you."

Tari hands me... the custom DeathCard she helped me make after our Inscryption game?

"Um... I... Tari... I don't know what to say...."

"It's okay. Besides, I also made a copy of your Deathcard. The one you have is a token, you earned it!" Tari gives me the thumbs up and she hugs me. And doing my best to keep my stuff while hugging back. Seems things are going well. (but the silhouette girl has not left my mind). She leaves as well.

Meggy looks over, and as soon as she sees me, she smiles and gives me the thumbs up. I smile and follow the gesture.

Um... am I getting an exclusive farewell event? Or have I become a sympathy/empathic magnet? (and maybe a Animsay magnet...?) Well, the least I can do is be polite. I look at the little presents.

SMG3 then comes over after taking the paper cup of his finished latte to the kitchen trash... so, now what?

"Welp, guess I better do some last minute QnA," he then looks at me. "Voting time will be happening soon, so you better get with the group."

SMG3 looks at the gifts. He raises an eyebrow, and immediately puts it together. His eye roll expression is pretty comical. I lightly giggle, as I put the gifts in my vest pocket.

For a moment, I stretch my hand for a handshake; he's the last one to give me a handshake. The hugs might be optional for him, knowing him. He indeed does shake my hand.

Well, seeing him with a smile (despite still looking tired) before leaving to walk around for some participants to gather around him... things seem to go fine.

Everyone starts to gather for the next voting.

"ALRIGHT, (ouch my ears) NEXT VOTE STARTS NOW!” announced Mr Puzzles.

Oh boy, I almost dropped my matcha latte and umbrella and plushie. I expected for it to be loud, but still... After two participants mark their vote, I was about to... when the silhouette girl with the heart eye comes in quickly and leaves in a hurry. Um... As I mark my vote, I saw her grab a bottle of water and went to the bathroom.

A part of me wanted to see what was wrong, another was to leave it... And the other part... I have to go in case there aren't bathroom breaks for the remainder of the tour; y-yeah. So... I waited a little, until I walked to the outside of the bathroom; it appears she's taking long. I was about to knock, when my sensitive hearing heard... something being thrown, and what appears to be... crying? Is she okay...? I lightly knock on the door.

"Hello?... Um...," but I carefully think, and as sounding to not rushing things to the girl on the other side of the door (even if I'm starting to feel the need to go). "Take your time... I... I'm not in a rush."

....No answer.

I think, Lucian picked up the fact I needed to go and went to check; pretty sure he wants everyone ready before heading to the next department. I wonder if he knows her...

His head shows the word, "U ok?"

"I am. But... I think want to wait until whoever is in there leaves. They're.... not sounding well. My... bathroom break can hold."

Hm... is there... something I can do, without her knowing she has my attention, but at the same time make her feel better? I want to avoid being nosy, and I don't want that. Plus, the look she was showing looked hostile... And as for me, I'm sensitive. I look at my untouched matcha latte. And then at Lucian. (I trust him since the return of my drawing)

"Um... would you like some matcha latte?" I asked. (Should have phrased it as gifting the latte as repayment for the recovery of my lost drawing, but my heart was in a different place)

"It's nice, but I already drank something. So no, but thanks for the offer."

Well, if he doesn't, maybe... the silhouette girl would want it?

"Um, okay... could you... give it to whoever is in the bathroom once they leave?," Lucian's "face" shows a question mark. "But I cannot let them know I'm giving it to them, and that I crafted it. Since I don't know how... they'll react towards me. J-Just give it to them. And then tell me what they think of it. Just say, someone (me) offered you the matcha latte, and... um... Uh... Yeah, that you already drank something before... um... C-Could you... please do that?"

......

"I could try, but no promises."

"Thanks, Lucian. And thanks for returning my drawing." I lightly smile. Lucian gives a thumbs up.

I hear the knob move, and the silhouette girl comes out. I quickly go in, but a quick glance from the corner of my eye caught what appears to have been dried tears on her face. Well... the need to go is starting to nag, so... you know...

(Why did I decided to wear suspenders under the vest? Because I thought it would be stylish even when the vest covers them)

I looked around the bathroom, and it appears slightly more furnished. I saw a crumbled water bottle on the floor further away... (what happened?)

Sigh... I just hope I did the right thing at the right time... And I hope I don't get myself in trouble in other's affairs; but my heart... is too big. But at least, she doesn't know; she won't know.

I quickly hurry up to get ready. I fix my vest when my drawing (somehow) falls out of the inner vest pocket. Okay... i just hope it doesn't randomly fly away into the possibly half closed window of the bath-

......!

....... crap.

I hear knocking on the other side of the bathroom. I heard the voice of Lucian. It's time to go.

I exit the restroom after washing my hands (and easing my anxiety as best as possible). And gathering my things. Subconsciously, I chose not to look at Lucian, and the silhouette girl. I'm too scared to see what transpired while I was in the bathroom; or what has yet to transpire. I hug my Puzzles plushie and umbrella for comfort.

I hope everything will turn out fine.

So... I learned, everyone will be heading to the Social Media Department. And Animsay is the head of said department...

Oh boy...

(And I still have a drawing to recover for what's left of the tour.)

Everyone slowly head outside for a moment, basking in the sun for the final verdict. And then I open my umbrella; it makes me feel safe under it. One last look back, I see the SMG3 wave back. Ha ha! I could tell briefly they saw me in the crowd.

Recalling the good things to ease my nerves, I recall all of the good things I did with the SMG3 Gang; and I place a hand on my vest's pocket, where the little gifts are. With the leftover matcha latte of mine and Grinnames' dish, I'm feeling hopeful they will enjoy it. And making another friend in the tour group.

Just, focus on the bright side, and wait for the good things to come.

But if something goes wrong... There's that bridge I'll keep crossing to reach the other side.

___________

Author's notes: I went overkill with this ONE!! More fun and longer than the last. No drawings this time, but a custom Card based on the game Inscryption, with Rayas in it. Plus, for the first time, I directly discussed with someone over each sona's actions. Hope it all goes well for another one.

Well, she lost her drawing again....

The lost drawing in question below...

(Between The Star and AV Puzzles is Astro by @the-masked-astro , one of the participants on the tour) All Ocs/AUs belong to their owners and can be found here Puzzlevision Mass Attack)

Note about the drawing. In the story, her drawing is impervious to getting destroyed/damaged, and the only one who can is Rayas since she made it. So, anyone not from her home or herself, it's like stretching an unbreakable rubber band.

Note, interactions available, but comment/dm first. Plus, if anything, I might slightly change the story here.

[atomsforthewin]

Couldn't leave that alone.

(This is a first draft. I will polish it properly and post it to ao3 later, but I thought I would honour the request here first.)

@guy-gardners-shapely-ass there you go

—

It starts on the Qlipoth. Or rather, at the bottom of it. Or maybe in that disgusting throne room half way up. Who is to say, really.

It starts because Dante can't do it. He can't. Not again.

The thing left of his brother, a cruel visage sneering about weakness and the might of unending power, sneers down on him and the hollow pit in his belly lames his arms. Locks the muscles of his legs and freezes the breath in his lungs. There is barely any humanity left in that gaze, only the faintest glimmer of sanity flickering in its depts. Still, Dante finds himself desperately searching, hoping for any tiny hint of what once was.

But there is nothing to find, isn't there. Vergil has finally succeeded what he has always desired. Finally shed himself of the last vestiges of humanity holding him back.

Only a monster to be vanquished is left behind. Only a little brother to vanquish it.

But, how could he possibly do it again?

He can't. He can't he can't he can't and it costs him far too much.

So weak. Always so weak. Foolish little brother never measuring up, always tossed aside for more important things.

He tries. Tries even more when the fucking kid shows up and Dante looses his breath to terror. He tries so hard, even though there is no space for him to succeed. How can he pick up his sword against Vergil again, when his twin's death lies so heavily on his consciousness already. But still, for Nero he tries. For Nero he has to try, because if nothing else he has to spare him this. If Dante can't do anything else right, then let him do this. Let him at least protect Nero from this cruel fate.

So he gets back up, again and again, as many times as Vergil knocks him down. Fights, for Nero, for Lady and Trish, for Morrison and all the people depending on him to stop the newest monster. And in the middle of it all, between a guard too flimsy and a swing to wide, his heart misses a beat. The shock of the miss is painful, but ultimately negligible. Dante has other things to concentrate on. Like the fact that the kid is only barely out of the room, still in danger. Like the fact that his friends are getting swallowed by ugly disgusting vines and that there is screaming from outside and that it feels like the world is burning to the ground while Urizen laughs a cruel mockery and tosses him around like a toy.

He tries. He fails. And somewhere in there, maybe, there are a few other missed beats. He can't say, too distracted.

—

No wait, that's wrong, it starts much earlier. Far, far earlier, on another towering height with only them at the top. A sharp, icy glide right through his chest, pinning him to the ground like a bug.

But that's not the important bit.

—

It continues as he lies in the crater his body made upon impact, a sea of destruction around him in another city destroyed for power. Try as he might, he cannot muster a single bit of will to get up. Utterly insensate to anything but the burning knowledge that he failed and that there is no way for him to succeed, even if he tries again.

The simply truth is that he can't do it. He can't and it will doom everyone else. The blood of hundreds, thousands stains his hands, Nero's and Lady's and Trish's and everyone falling to the bloodthristy vines that feed his brother's obsession. Drowning him until he chokes on it all. The truth is so stark and brutally devastating that it steals his breath from his lungs, the feelings from his limbs. Here he is, lying in a crator of his own failure, alone and weak and wishing so desperately for everything to end, physically and mentally too exhausted to care.

He failed. Utterly and completely.

And doomed anyone counting on him to stop Vergil once again.

His heart skips a beat. Then another and a third. Each miss is painful, chest spasming in agonising hitches.

He is so exhausted.

Just a moment, the insidious voice in his mind that has been his dearest companion for so long had whispers. Let's just rest for a moment.

Let's be weak for this one moment.

—

"If only you never existed..."

Wouldn't that be nice.

"then I..."

Please.

The Sparda stabs into the ground right beside his cheek, so close Dante can feel the sharp edge of it burning across his skin in a whispered caress. Just a hairs breath to the left and it would have cleaved into his skin. For a moment he is crushingly disappointed that it didn't. That it didn't hit him head on and ended his sorry existence for good. He lays there, looks up into rage filled eyes and wonders why he continues to be alive. It really would be better if he just… stopped. Everyone would be better off.

Then the parrot screeches and the world reasserts itself. He gets up. Grabs the Sparda. Gets a move on, because he has to. No rest for the wicked and Dante is the most wicked of them all. And if his heart aches and trembles the whole way, well. It's been doing that his whole life long, that's really nothing to write home about, isn't it.

A fast pace leaves the man and his cursed pets behind, barely even acknowledging their presence. He does not think about the words. About all the little hints and mannerisms and familiarities. Certainly doesn't follow the trail of breadcrumbs to the inevitable conclusions. Can't. Instead he simply tracks on, up to the house crumbling atop the hill, hands shaking enough to rattle the Sparda on his shoulders until he grits his teeth and forces the tornado in his heart back into its little box to be locked away once again.

There is a pressure in his chest, pain sparking in his limbs and his left hand cramps at his side until he shakes it out.

—

Certainly, stabbing himself straight through the sternum does not help. Not after all the other times.

But he gains the power he needs. The power to protect the little sanity and goodness that is left of Eva's blood. That's gotta be worth it, surely.

—

His heart thumps too fast in his chest, each beat a painful staccato flashing across his senses. He grits his teeth against it, forces down the dizzying exhaustion dragging at his bones and the soul-crushing grief that lames him even more. Dante knows that he won't survive this confrontation with his brother, even as he calls for the end. Of course he won't. He couldn't even fight Urizen properly, how is he supposed to actually do so against Vergil himself?

But he also can't not. Not if the kid is on the line. Really, the kid is the only thing keeping him standing right now. Fucking hilarious, considering how much Dante tried to keep him at arms lengths. And now here he is, the only thought in his head the determination to spare Nero the fate of having to kill his father. And maybe, to spare Vergil the fate of killing his son. Really, it's enough if Dante has the blood of family on his hands. This whole thing needs to die with him.

He charges, at the exact same time as Vergil. Between one beat of the heart and the next they cross the distance between them, blades ready to rend each other apart. Or at leat Vergil's. Dante himself isn't really sure what he intends to do.

The second beat never comes. There is no second beat, even as the Yamato closes in. The absence is like a gong in his head, echoing in his mind as he watches the Katana cut through he air lightning fast, a deadly elegant line straight for him. Intent to once again spear him through.

It's so perversely familiar, but his heart has stopped beating.

By the next missing beat Nero is there, right in the middle of them, and before Dante can react he gets socked and he falls back because his limbs are going numb, trigger shattering around him because he is too busy trying to breath to keep it up and his heart is still not beating.

For a split second he blacks out, vision going white and ears filled with static. Then reality reasserts itself and his heart is beating again, thumping along too fast and irregular but at least it's doing something.

Nero is glowering at Vergil. Shouting at him, at them both, Dante is pretty sure, but he is too preoccupied to pay attention.

What was that?

—

Dante jumps first.

There were a few more skipped beats, most notably when Vergil got too aggressive with Nero or when his twin barely hinted at returning to hell, or when Nero got that look in his eyes when Dante told him they would both go to hell instead of staying up here with him. He feels shame for that, for leaving the kid behind. But he can't let Vergil go alone, is utterly incapable of it. His heart beats far too weakly in his chest and his fingers go numb with terror when he even thinks about it.

So he thinks an apology to him, and jumps before his brother, because he knows he wouldn't survive the sight of Vergil going first.

—

Once, when he was young and bored and trying to swindle the good drugs out of a doctor's pocket, Dante read a pamphlet in a waiting room. He remembers them. All the sign of a heart attack it listed.

Painful, tight chest. Dizziness. Irregular heartbeat. Loss of feeling. Exhaustion and short breath. Excess sweating.

Hah. Check, check, check.

He doesn't think about it.

—

Surprisingly, only a few skipped beats happen while they are down in hell. Probably because he and Vergil never actually talk about their issues while there. Just beat the snot out of each other a few times and kill even more demons and try their hand at some demonic gardening, which they are surprisingly good at.

It's a kind of limbo, neither acknowledging what stands between them. Content to let combat ebb and flow around them and through them until they are both too exhausted to stand straight and decide to go home.

—

It comes back, when they leave hell. Figures.

After what feels like months they drag their sorry carcasses out of hell, by some miracle tumbling out near the shop. Hurrah for the Yamato. And working together to amass enough energy to actually cut a portal out of hell. Dante more or less collapses into the shower, barely able to hold himself up. Exhaustion lines his every limb and he nearly nods off under the spray until Vergil bangs on the door and demands his own turn. He barely sorts out some place for his brother to sleep, someone cleaned and made up all the rooms and he is ethernally thankful not to come home to a mess, and then faceplants into his bed, out like a light.

Hilariously enough, it's Patty that finds them the next morning. Or maybe the morning after that, Dante has no clue how long they have slept, just knows it's not enough and he doesn't appreciate the rude and slightly shrill wake up call. Despite his rest he still feels like shit. Nausea swirls in his belly and his chest burns in a way he can't shake. His jaw feels too tight. When he blearily lifts his head out of the pillow, he grimaces at the way the cotton sticks to his skin, his skin damp with sweat. Ugh, disgusting.

"Dante!" Patty screams, throwing his door open with enough force to have it clash into the wall beside it. Another dent, then.

Dante barely has enough time to sit up before she is on him, arms wrapping around his neck like she is trying to strangle him.

"Hey," he says, and ignores the way his heart skips another beat when she starts crying on him.

Oh shit, no. He is so bad with crying.

—

It somehow gets worse with every new face to greet him. He ignores it as best he can. His demon will take care of it.

Hopefully.

—

Life goes on, even if his heart sometimes dances to an uncomfortable rhythm now.

He and Vergil tiptoe around each other, never quite sure how to reconnect and always missing the right connection when they try.

Nero is rightfully angry at them both.

Dante has more family than he ever had since he was eight, and still feels alone.

His heart burns to the thought.

—

It ends, when they visit Nero. Fitting, in a way.

The feeling doesn't go away, no matter how much he hopes for it. Aches and pains and exhaustion a steady companion to him now. It's vaguely familiar for the way it feels like the dreaded apathy of before that always stole all his energy, but this is completely physical. It's wrong, weird. He shouldn't have physical problems, his demon should take care of them. But here he is, feeling like a deprecit old man. Barely over fourty and his body is a wreck, held together with duck tape, alcohol, and a grim sort of determination to see it through to the end. And isn't it the end? A little bit? Well, not really, but kind of.

The ladies have mostly taken over the shop in his absence, handling it just fine without him. Patty excitedly tells him about college. Morrison has retired, determined not to go through "this shit again". Nero and Kyrie, and Nico, successfully manage the mobile branch and a bunch of foster kids on top.

Vergil has shown no interest in any other excursions of mass murder. Has been surprisingly docile even, seemingly content to map out a life in the human world once again and building a relationship with his son. In the beginning they dragged him along along, to play mediator and buffer until they get to know each other. He doesn't mind, owes it to them both, really. But the longer that goes on, the more he feels like a third wheel intruding in their family. It's not his place to be here, he thinks. Not after what he did.

It leaves Dante feeling stranded, and a little bit in the way of everyone. Too much is changing, has changed, and he can't keep up.

Maybe there is no need for him to keep up. His chest aches with the thought, attention wandering down well trodded dark paths he can't ever really shake. His fingers go numb again. It's stupid. His life has never been better. All the changes are for the better. For once no one is trying to kill anyone, everyone is mostly getting along. He should be happy. But try as he might, he can't.

He doesn't really know what happens, in the end. One second he is standing awkwardly to the side, feeling like an intruder while his brother and nephew try to make some kind of small talk even though they both are so utterly shit at it. The next he is on his back, blinking up at the sky. He can't feel his left arm. Somehow, that's the most disturbing thing about this whole thing. His heart skips and skitters in his chest, like a bird trying to get out, and he can't quite breath anymore, pain radiating through his chest, up to his jaw to lock it shut, sweat trickles at his neck.

Vaguely he sees Kyrie hover over him, a concerned look in her eyes, but he can't seem to focus on her. His vision goes in and out of focus, in rhythm with his heart that goes ever slower.

He thinks he sees Vergil join her, but by that time he is already too far gone to be sure.

—

They actually call a doctor on him. Well, Kyrie does. Putting her foot over them all.

A weak heart, said doctor says. Too much abuse not healed properly, even with a demon's magic.

Hah. Now that's funny as hell. Too soft hearted indeed. Turns out his twin was right all along.

Vergil doesn't appreciate it when Dante points it out to him, just scowls and shoves him back down into the bed.

So turns out getting stabbed in the heart again and again and never taking proper care to heal and recover is not good for the health. Devil Arms doing far more harm than anything else ever could, especially ones of Sparda make. A lifetime of alcohol abuse and punishing use of a body only half made up of demonic resilience doesn't help either. Seems the glaring rip in his chest when he triggers isn't normal, or a good sign of demonic health either.

His heart, always far too human, has given out on him.

Dante would laugh himself silly about it, but when he does his chest goes tight and he ends up with excruciating coughing fits that never seem to end and have everyone panicking around him like headless chickens.

Mmm, let me offer something diabolical. Dante with actual chest or heart problems after being stabbed so many times in chest/heart. You can’t tell me there couldn’t be some kinda actual lasting damages or side effects.

Also take into account the chest of his Sin Devil trigger, could be a more telling sign of the issues. Most don’t know probably but I feel like some days his chest feels like it’s collapsing and he can’t move.

[iliadeleart]

[lulu-draws-stuff]

Lazy :]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[dcschart]

The Cat & The Mouse 🐱🐭

This is my late Valentine’s Day piece,, I haven’t drawn these two in so long, but I just really really like the cat and mouse dynamic ;;3;;

[lurakha]

FAR CRY 5 (∞)

[wackywatchdotcom]

ive posted so much every single day on this blog for weeks now i feel weird having barely posted today . ive been busy but uhhh heres a random image i never posted from my tadc art folder?

[astral-aromance]

Controversial Silmpost time

I don't blame Elwing for not returning the Silmaril. She was really nothing more than a child. I also can't really blame Dior for the same reason (though he is more complicated, because if he was a mannish child and not half-elven because of Luthien's Choice, he was fully grown at 34). But Thingol and Luthien? Oh yes. Yes, I blame them.

They knew damn well what would happen eventually, Luthien even experienced the Fëanorians at their worst 1st hand, almost getting forced into a marriage all for the sake of the Silmarils. She knew that they'd do ANYTHING, even to their own friend and cousin, because she saw it. They even tried to kill her and Beren. They knew the story of Alqualondë. They knew. But they willingly kept that thing around their family, their *children* even knowing full well that it would likely be the death of them. Heck, Luthien, and Beren aged and died prematurely because of the presence of that thing, and she yet still gave it to her young son with small children while knowing that the Girdle was gone.

Of course, the Fëanorians had no right to do what they did, that goes without saying. But Thingol, Luthien, and Beren really should have known better. Anti-Fëanorian or Anti-Sindar, there is simply no denying that the Elders of the royal line of Doriath played a huge role in the decimation of the kingdom and Sirion later.

They are certainly not blameless in the whole thing. It's more like a 75% vs 25% thing rather than 50/50, but certainly not negligible enough to be glossed over or ignored.

In the end, my question is just... If you know that a fire will eventually kill you if you don't turn off the stove, despite it having been very difficult to light it, why would you deliberately leave it on, even if the fire warned you multiple times that you should turn it off?

[raiiny-bay]

holding them all in my hands…….