#Not that I think my art needs to be widely and easily marketable to be of value but Man

[samurailogic]

I feel like I've been getting worse at digital art specifically. I don't know, I mean sometimes I shift over to another program temporarily to get myself together again in a way, but ai dee kay. I feel like I can't draw unless it's in a college ruled spiral notebook which I don't know if that just means I'm not the most skilled at art Period but either way drawing on le computer is getting tiring

[shirefantasies]

Hello!! I saw that you're temporarily open for matchup requests so I hope that I'm not too late with this! :) specifically from LOTR please~

I'm female, 5'7", Virgo, ISFP, with stronger preference for males. I have pale skin with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. My wardrobe mostly consists of darker colors, my favorite combos being black with red or pink.

I consider myself empathetic and honest. I am reserved most of the time, only ever talking if someone else initiates the convo, though I can go on and on about my hyperfixations and interests. Like even when I'm with a group of friends, I'd stay quiet most of the time and just listen so I may come across as a bit socially awkward. I've been told I'm a good listener and so I end up being someone many confide in or as someone who becomes stuck in the middle of a conflict. I am a night owl and get easily exhausted or even irritated when I'm out and it's crowded so I definitely need time and space on my own to recharge after a long day. I suppose among love languages, I lean to using words of affirmation. When I do have enough energy, I also like to cook and bake for my family and friends (and get upset if it doesn't end up turning right).

I really like animals, especially big cats, dogs and wolves. My favorite genre of fiction is horror so sharing scary/ghost stories would be my favorite group activity. My sense of humor tends of be on the dry, sarcastic side. My preferred methods of workout are swimming, badminton, and walking. When I get bored, I tend to doodle and hum. I don't consider myself a good singer and I'd only get the confidence to sing in front of others if I was a bit tipsy (I don't drink much, I am so lightweight it's not even funny and if I do, I stick with cocktail or beer).

In video games that involve combat and exploration, I tend to rely on speed and stealth (my footfalls are actually quiet irl too). Among weapons, I prefer using swords (dual wielding, if available), though having a bit of magic would be fun to use too (especially if you can set things on fire) :3

congrats on the 300 followers!

You are not at all! Thank you for waiting between my recovery buffer posts & older matchups! So here we go now love! Your match is…

Legolas!

Some people joke what a funny couple you are due to you both seeming so quiet, but in truth you are drawn to each other’s peace. Legolas is drawn to your gentle presence, the light falls of your steps upon the bank of the river where he meets you, water flowing at your feet. You are not the only one swimming that day, but you cut such a majestic figure as you move gracefully through the water, emerging with illuminated droplets descending from your dark hair. Since that very first moment you stuck in Legolas's heart.

He loves the way you hum as you work, dark skirts swirling about the floor as you swish through the kitchen. A smile plays on his lips as he compliments the work you've let out to cool and you drily tease him about stealing it. Instead, he offers to help hand it out and you are grateful to save your energy. Normally you do not prefer company in the kitchen, but this elf's presence is calming rather than draining. Your motions and his assume a rhythm unbroken by distraction.

He runs into you out in town, smiling at the large dog following at your heels while you carry your basket. You look content as you go to market, purchasing all you need. Catching the way your hand runs wistfully over a small ornately bound book, he finds his feet carrying him to market as well, his hands delving into pockets and being rewarded with the weight of a tiny tome. The following day's trip to your kitchen is met not with wry humor, but wide smiles and sheepish revelations of art. "You may think them the smallest of sketches, but to me I see a connection to this world." "Is that your way of saying you can't draw?" Yet another smile you've drawn from the elven prince. "You've caught me there."

When orcs attack your village, his first thought is to get to you, your hearth and your dog and all your little captures of your surroundings, and let any who dare trifle with it know it has a blade and a bow behind it. Boots thudding lightly as always against dirt, then stone, he arrives outside your home to see you there, a glinting sword swinging in each hand. Grinning, he shakes his head. He should have known. Shooting one of your twin assailants off you, he joins the fray. "Sorry I'm late." "You should be!" You grin back at him. "This party started an hour ago."

This visit has only a few days left. Ignoring that, you climb higher into the tree before you settle, pulling the red-and-black swirled book from your small satchel. Legolas sits in the crook of the tree right below yours. "Shall I read or would you prefer to?" It's as if he can sense your energy, see right through your facade to the highs and lows of your heart. The book in question held some of your favorite ghost stories, old legends and more local frights alike. You joke about the prince being able to handle it, but in the end you know whose voice you would prefer to ring out with it that day.

You are the only one Legolas trusts to saddle up his horse, hand him the bags he'd surreptitiously caught you slipping a copy of your book of horrors into as a memento. He says your name softly as a wish when you stand at his mount's side, catching your nod before he captures your lips with his, motions slow, deliberate as if he would wake up from the dream at any moment. Your name is even more delicious whispered after a kiss. "Wait for me." "Who else would I even look twice at?"

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[inventors-fair]

Setting the Stage: Lyric Winners ~

Our winners this week are @helloijustreadyourpost, @hypexion and @reaperfromtheabyss!

@helloijustreadyourpost — Pin the Blame "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring

This card's pretty much what I was thinking of for how to subvert a notion. The Offspring are an abrasive post-punk sound with punchy lyrics. You've turned one of their first lines of this song into a kind of elegant musing from the queen on the throne. Is it an art? In real life, not really, you've just gotta rile up emotions until things get ugly, and in a song about strength, you don't want to be the one caught in the middle in the scenario that this card depicts. They're so distant from one another but smooth in equal ways. Great use of the prompt and a great card to boot.

Or like, I think it's a good limited common, anyway. There are times where it's literally a dead card because you're maxing out at -1/-1 for two mana on the early board, but if there's some go-wide nonsense, of course it's a blowout. I feel that this card is good in specific circumstances, like where GW has a Convoke-y feeling, tokens that allow you to survive a bigger swing with fewer creatures because you can easily and efficiently take down a big lad. RB/WB aggro probably isn't the place for it, but I like control cards just fine. If you're also up against some kind of Conspiracy 3 design board (I know, I know, designing for standard, but it IS Fiora) then this card gets your opponents far more open to your allies. Pile on!

@hypexion — Elise, Legend's Echo "Love is a Camera" by Sophie Ellis-Bextor

Oh, she's a SPIRIT. I actually just noticed that now. Ha! I mean, she's one to talk, but all the same. As cramped as this text is, everything feels sound. Opening this up in a limited or sealed pool might be a bit of a feelbad. I also think the possibilities to make it go absolutely nuts is cool as well. Standard sets can totally use some built-for-commander cards, and beyond that, she's a pretty hard-to-beat butt if you can throw some swords or whatnot onto her. And if there IS a larger Legendary theme, then the deck-thinning becomes more than that. Get reckless with your legends and have fun.

I think she shines best as a Commander card, though, let's not kid ourselves. Reanimation to combo nonsense means that you can Mardu battlecruise through a table with plenty of support these days, especially with legendary lands. How does she feel? She feels like a lonely, determined card that is less about the bloodshed and more about the memory-making. Having the "Bard" type really makes me reconsider how I see her image, and having seen the real intense lyrics that you're working with, I like the possibility that the echo is somewhat joyful, or at least less despondent than it would seem at first connection. She's living on the battlefield, after all, and she can look for more memories to strengthen her as she goes. It's a complex series of character possibilities and you did a great job conveying them.

@reaperfromtheabyss — Determined Scavenger "Take Cover" by All Time Low

The setting of Duskmourn turned me onto the notion more than the marketing ever did, I'll tell you that much. Seeing the survivors was certainly grim, and there's so much more that's been left behind. Seeing these little snippets, though, plays directly into the well-done trope of doing what one needs to to survive. The twist of the survivor perpetuating the horror under the illusion of self-preservation, though, is still wickedly heartbreaking. Determination and heroism can feel at odds in the face of overwhelming adversity. From my interpretation, the song exudes bitterness in a way that's definitely twisted into that sadism for this character. Ain't that what we're afraid of, in the end... Well, maybe not this guy.

I also like how the mechanics play into the whole survival aspect by being repeatable, intentionally so, in order to continue feeding into the determination here. Getting a big creature can be usually game-ending, but the fact that it's not optional makes this thing a real pain in the butt to work around if you don't know how to use it. I like it, though, because milling yourself out is perfectly flavorful with self-sabotage, and skilled players will know exactly how to work around their creatures in order to make this evasive assassin a beater and a half. The minor wording change I'd use is adding a "When you do" trigger, to make it after the end step say: "When you do, put X +1/+1 counters on ~ and each player mills X cards, where X is the exiled card's mana value." Having the mana value clause in the middle is a little weird, and the trigger being responded to can be important if you want to use delirium shenanigans at the end step in response.

Second verse is coming up, everyone into the pit... @abelzumi

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

hey M, before you left your blog I wanted so much to ask you about cinema and I didn't get a chance back then but since you are back I'm glad I have an opportunity to do so and here I go.

Who and what do think played a huge role in the rise of independent filmmaking in the 70's that helped breaking boundaries within GP and against major studios whether in concept, scenario/story cinematography..etc. and do you think such movement might be accomplished in our era knowing how technology is so advanced - AI in particular- to the point it removed many aspects that define the art of cinema?

I know Tech is a double edged sword but these days I feel its negative impact more than ever and imo, the amount of remakes is a huge sign that we have reached the ending line, and I hope that going back to the roots is a possible feature that is yet to be invested in.

I feel my questions are little bit thick lol, so sorry in advance.

Hi @astutejiminie! Thanks for the question, this is something that I'd love to talk about.

In short and in hindsight as well, it's almost like it was inevitable if we look at the situation the studios were in the 1960s, but also at the socio-economic and political factors. It's all tied together.

By the mid to late 60s, it became obvious the big Hollywood studios weren't making money anymore. Television came and that affected the way the usual movie goer behaved. Since it was new, it had a success quite from the beginning. The studios were also investing a ton of money in a few select genres thinking it's the magic formula that can bring audiences back. Musicals and epics in technicolor. Most of them failed critically and also didn't make any profit. Only a few did, like The Sound of Music for example. Another aspect was that Hollywood played it safe in the 50s-60s, the Hays code was still on until 1968 which was restrictive and puritanical. And now we're getting to the bigger picture. How would a young audience in the late 60s could possibly be interested in that anymore? When they could easily buy a ticket to some European film that showed them morally ambiguous characters, sex and less conformism? There was no way Hollywood could survive if they didn't adapt. And they saw early on that some of the films obviously inspired by world cinema (especially Europe) were actually worthwile (see Bonnie and Clyde). And from that point on, filmmakers, writers, were given freedom and means of production, without the studios being completely in control of a film. The director was. And a lot of them were young people high on European and Japanese cinema and they helped bring in a new era. One that had a huge effect and still has on the way contemporary American film looks like. They owned the 70s.

And then the era of blockbuster came in and that has had a major effect as well, until today. Jaws made a lot of money. Star Wars too. The box office success was huge. The 1980s focused again on investing money, an easy plot to follow, a story that looked spectacular and so on. And still, those filmed looked better made than some current Hollywood super hero movie that is not bringing a wide variety of audiences back to the cinema.

We've been stuck with remakes, sequels and prequels and cinematic universes and countless shows on streaming platforms. A saturated market that offers nothing. We need good Hollywood movies. A diversity in genre films. What Barbie and Oppenheimer are doing this summer is great. Both are films that don't insult their audience, are mainstream but also cater to audiences coming from different backgrounds and people are excited. The tickets are sold out. But I do fear it's but one singular example and it will take another 10-15 years until something similar happens again.

For now, the situation looks bleak and the rise of AI used in the industry only makes it worse. Which is why the actors and the writers strikes are so important. They need to fight against it and gain some control. The big studios and streaming platform CEOs don't care about cinema and television. About the craft. They want to get rid of extras and replace them with a digital version. They will make more and more use of technology to write the scripts. As long as they spend less money on actual people, then that's great for them. Which is why the negotiations are so difficult. It's scary and I find it daunting that this dystopic scenario might happen in my life time.

As much as the movie and tv business is entertainment, it is also art. Simply because it involves people creating something. No AI can replicate what a person can do. Their emotions and intellect that is reflected in what they make.

Yes, going back to some formula of the 1970s sounds good but on a big scale, that's not possible because we live in such a different world. Some smaller studios are still releasing more quality works, like A24. But an entire industry is a lot more. Hollywood is the studios that make it. What's important is how those studios adapt and negotiate with the people that also keep Hollywood running and not lose its meaning. It won't disappear. But over time, people get replaced, new business ideas come in and the dream lives on. Hopefully on better terms than presently.

[saviorsfoundation11]

What is IGCSE and How is it Beneficial for your child?

You may have heard parents telling you, “I enrolled my child to an IGCSE school, making you wonder what IGCSE is and why it is important for your child. Let us tell you what the IGCSE board is and how it prepares your children for a better tomorrow. The International General Certificate of Secondary Education better known as IGCSE is an internationally recognized qualification for school students, typically in the 14-16 age group. Established by the University of Cambridge International Examinations (CIE) in 1988, the IGCSE provides a global benchmark of academic achievement. It is equivalent to the UK’s General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) and is widely adopted in international schools and various national education systems around the world.

What are the key features of the IGCSE board?

1. International Curriculum

One of the most notable features of the IGCSE board is its international curriculum. It is designed to accommodate diverse cultural perspectives and educational needs. The curriculum is flexible and stimulating, allowing students to engage with global-relevance subjects while allowing for local adaptation where necessary.

 2. Wide Range of Subjects

The IGCSE offers a broad array of subjects, ensuring that students can pursue their interests and strengths. Core subjects typically include Mathematics, English, and Sciences, but students can also choose from an extensive list of other subjects such as foreign languages, humanities, and the arts. This variety allows students to tailor their education according to their personal interests and career aspirations.

3. Comprehensive Assessment

Assessment in the IGCSE is varied and designed to measure a wide range of skills. It includes written and oral exams, coursework, and practical assessments. This multi-faceted approach ensures that students are evaluated on their understanding and application of knowledge, critical thinking, and problem-solving abilities. Grades range from A* to G, providing a clear indication of a student's academic performance.

4. Skill Development

The IGCSE places a strong emphasis on the development of critical thinking, problem-solving, and practical skills. Unlike educational systems that may focus heavily on rote memorization, the IGCSE encourages students to understand and apply concepts, fostering a deeper and more comprehensive educational experience.

What are the benefits of the IGCSE for Children

1. Global Recognition

The IGCSE is recognized by universities and employers worldwide, making it an excellent foundation for students who plan to pursue higher education or careers internationally. This recognition means that students with IGCSE qualifications can easily transition into educational systems and job markets around the globe.

 2. Strong Academic Foundation

The rigorous and well-rounded curriculum of the IGCSE provides a strong academic foundation. This is particularly beneficial for students who plan to continue their education with programs like A-Levels, International Baccalaureate (IB), or other equivalent qualifications. A solid grounding in core subjects and skills ensures that students are well-prepared for advanced studies.

 3. Development of Critical Skills

The IGCSE's focus on critical thinking, problem-solving, and practical application of knowledge prepares students to handle real-world challenges. This approach helps in developing intellectual discipline and strong study habits, which are essential for academic and professional success.

 4. Flexibility and Choice

With over 70 subjects available, the IGCSE offers unparalleled flexibility. Students can choose subjects that align with their interests and future career goals, which helps in maintaining their engagement and motivation. This choice also allows students to explore and identify their strengths and passions early on.

 5. Language Proficiency

The IGCSE offers courses in many languages, providing students with the opportunity to become proficient in more than one language. This multilingual capability is increasingly valuable in today’s interconnected world, enhancing communication skills and cultural awareness.

6. Cultural Awareness and Global Perspective

The international nature of the IGCSE curriculum fosters a broader understanding and appreciation of different cultures and global issues. This cultural awareness is crucial in developing well-rounded individuals who are prepared to thrive in diverse environments.

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The skills and knowledge gained through IGCSE courses make the transition to higher education smoother. Students often find themselves better prepared for the demands of university-level coursework, both in terms of subject knowledge and study skills.

The IGCSE Board offers a comprehensive and globally recognized educational framework that prepares students for future success. Its rigorous academic standards, flexible curriculum, and emphasis on critical thinking and practical skills provide numerous benefits. Whether aiming for higher education or entering the workforce, students with an IGCSE qualification are well-equipped to meet the challenges of the modern world. The IGCSE not only imparts academic knowledge but also fosters personal growth, cultural awareness, and a lifelong love for learning.

Visit Us: https://saviorsfoundation.com/

[jiayichen-tradebase]

Wall Street Hedge Funds are Missing Out On This Stock.

Hello, my name is Jiayi Chen from Tradebase, and today I will be explaining one of my top stocks; Shopify Inc (NYSE: SHOP), and why it has the potential to outperform the market in 2024 significantly.

March 24 Weekly Rankings

1. Shopify 2. ⁠Nice Ltd 3. ⁠Eld Beauty 4. ⁠Advanced Micro Devices 5. ⁠EQT Corp 6. ⁠PayPal 7. Amplify Energy Corp 8. ⁠Microsoft 9. ⁠Tesla 10. ⁠The Trade Desk

Shopify Inc (NYSE: SHOP)

Shopify is the world’s leading platform offering an e-commerce platform that helps businesses easily sell products and services. Shopify has long been admired for the simplicity and straightforwardness with which merchants can set up storefronts on its platform. In recent years, it’s invested in and improved every conceivable merchant need, from providing point-of-sale software and hardware to extending its back office software to include cross-border sales tax compliance.

So, what makes Shopify especially compelling at this moment? I believe the company is currently leveraging significant scale advantages, driven by its technological superiority over competitors and its burgeoning brand influence. As highlighted by Tom Gardener during The Motley Fool’s recommendation unveiling, founder and CEO Tobi Lütke remains fundamentally focused on enhancing the functionality of the Shopify platform.

This meticulous attention to detail is yielding tangible outcomes. For instance, Shopify’s proprietary shopping cart payment technology, Shop Pay, demonstrates notably higher conversion rates compared to rival solutions — averaging at least 15% higher in completed transactions. Even Shopify president Harley Finkelstein states: “Our data also indicates that the mere presence of Shop Pay, even if unused by the buyer, results in a 5% increase in conversion, with usage potentially boosting conversion rates by up to 50% compared to guest checkout, surpassing all other accelerated checkout options by at least 10%. These trends are reflected in our performance.”

Furthermore, notable product enhancements such as “Hydrogen,” a robust programming environment tailored for large enterprises, enable intricate customization of storefronts. Despite this, Shopify has been consistently updating its program and maintaining its community; furthermore helping customers with their needs.

The convergence of product focus, brand resilience, and high-profile clientele has propelled Shopify to achieve consistent double-digit growth. In its most recent quarter, the company witnessed a 30% surge in revenue (adjusted for the divestiture of its logistics arm).

Another key aspect of why I think high of Shopify is its brand recognition and social media dominance. For example, Shopify has been blowing up on the internet, fueled and helped by Dropshipping or E-Commerce gurus that teach the art of online sales on social media platforms. Shopify is widely acknowledged and known as the best platform to sell online; what we like is it’s natural, unfiltered, organic brand development and reviews, in which the popularity of the brand spreads through the word of mouth from a person rather than from digital advertisements.

Of particular interest to long-term investors, Shopify attained a free cash flow margin of 21% in the last quarter, indicating its ability to convert a significant portion of sales revenue into free cash flow. We anticipate further improvement in this margin as Shopify continues to expand its gross merchandise volume (GMV) and net revenue. Already, Shopify is displaying signs of emerging as a cash-generating powerhouse, with free cash flow reaching $905 million over the past 12 months.

Investors must be ready to withstand short-term fluctuations in these stocks. Presently, Shopify’s valuation stands at 77 times the forward one-year earnings, which may appear steep initially. However, this valuation becomes more reasonable when factoring in consensus analyst forecasts indicating the company’s net earnings are expected to more than double from 2024 to 2026.

The transitional phases for companies, shifting from break-even to high-profit states, often pose challenges for investors as they weigh the importance of revenue growth versus profitability in their valuation assessments. I am confident that Shopify is poised to significantly increase its worth over the next five years and beyond.

Thank you for reading my article. I am Jiayi Chen, a stock trader at Tradebase. (If the link tells you to download WhatsApp, click on the compass icon on the bottom right)

I put my heart and soul into everything I write and publish for free. I’ve been struggling to maintain my studies and grades at near-perfect scores and my 5 social media blogs with articles. If you enjoyed this article, I would ask you to kindly take 20 seconds out of your life to click here to join my official trading channel where I broadcast my top stock recommendations and newsletters for FREE. It means a lot to me. If you don’t want to join then I am completely ok since everyone likes different things and you might not like what I write or disagree with my stock picks. But anyways, I appreciate you for reading my article and I wish you the best on your investment journey and your quest to financial freedom.

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @dorkus-minimus @chocolatecatstheron @tazanna-blythe @golden-promises @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg @ann0631 @whitetiger1249 @meow-now @toodaloo-kangaroo

[luvdsc]

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged. 

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play. 

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode. 

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold. 

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you. 

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

[themorphine]

The Picnic-Feysand Date <3

So happy to announce that me and @wintersouldier57 teamed up and wrote a feysand fic in celebration of both hitting 100 followers! Go say congrats to @wintersouldier57 SHES AMAZING

It had been a long few weeks for the high lord and lady of the night court. Between their regularly scheduled meetings and taking care of Nyx, things had been hard. They had scarcely found any time for themselves in the midst of it, hardly any to just be together, enjoying each other’s presence. When Feyre wasn’t at a meeting, Rhys was in the Illyrian mountains handling the armies with Cassian. When Rhys was home, Feyre was at the art studio. Their schedules never seemed to line up.

They often spoke mentally, providing each other as much comfort as they could in that capacity, but they soon found that even psychic communication had its limits when it came to comforting one another. Feyre missed the way his arms felt around her, the way he would whisper soothing words into her ear when things became too much to handle. She understood that they had their responsibilities to their court. They were high lord and lady, after all. Still, she was restless. She wanted nothing more than to feel his embrace, nothing more than to drown in a pool of the transcendent love he offered her.

There was a dull ache in her heart that she knew only he could alleviate. She longed for him. She had not known desperation so deep since her days before coming to Prythian. That desperation, that hunger, had burned, but never like this. It had seared from the inside out, but never straight from the heart. Not like this did. This killed slowly, she thought, deliberately. She felt as though she had been traipsing around Velaris with half a soul, never quite able to get comfortable anywhere she went.

She would see him today. For the first time in weeks, everything lined up. Cassian and Azriel had agreed to take Nyx off their hands for the day for what Cassian called “much-needed uncle time”. They would pick him up as soon as she returned home for the day.

She was a bit surprised that Cassian had not said anything, no teasing. She didn't say anything though, she did not want to give him any ideas. He probably does not want to lose any time with Nyx, she thought, and chuckled silently.

“What’s so funny my High Lady? Rhysie has some good jokes for once?” Rhysand must have heard that from wherever he was, because he responded in Feyre’s and Cassian’s head, At least my jokes don't have every female in all of Prythian running for the hills Cassian. Feyre laughed harder, Cassian chuckling as well.

“Well have fun you two, and be sure to be home at a respectable time, and PLEASE use a sound barrier, I do not want to have to explain what noises are being heard all over this cauldron-damned city to this little one.” He said in his most “mother hen” voice, and tickled a giggling Nyx in his arms. Feyre glared at him while he laughed, and Rhys must have said something in his head, for he laughed even harder.

“BYE CASSIAN” Feyre shouted, making a beeline to the door. She could still hear Cassian's laughter,

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was a nice day, perfect for a walk in the park or a trip to the market squares. Perhaps she and Rhys could take a walk when he returned. She would love nothing more than to walk through Velaris hand in hand with her mate. She missed simple intimacies like that, little touches.

You look simply delectable in that dress, Feyre darling.

He had spoken into her mind. Could he see her? Where was he? She looked around but could not find him. Suddenly, there was a pressure underneath her knees, lifting her into the air. She yelped, surprised that he had picked her up.After the initial surprise, she spoke;

“You should have given me some warning, you prick.”

He chuckled, “Now what would be the fun in that Feyre Darling?”

She tried her best to look unaffected by the nickname, and replied “The fun would be that I wouldn't have to scream and not fall on my face for all of Velaris to see.”

He put on a face of mock hurt. “You really think I would drop you darling? I would never!”

She glared. “Based on what you did last time, I won't trust you for another 1000 years, 900 if your lucky.”

He laughed harder, burrowing his face in my neck, to try and silence it. Once he calmed he breathed in my neck, savouring her smell.

“If I could bottle your smell I would drink it every day.” He sighed, hugging Feyre tightly, as if she could disappear any moment. And to be honest based on how long they had been apart, they both felt as if they would disappear, but thank the cauldron they wouldn't.

Finally, after all this time, they were together. She smiled as she nuzzled closer to his chest. Through the bond, she could feel the pure happiness coursing through Rhys. Her grin widened as she felt the wind blazing past them.

She wondered where he might be taking her. They hadn’t discussed their plans beyond spending the day together. Wherever they were headed, though, Feyre knew she would love it. She would love it because he would be there with her. For the first time in a long while, she was home. An unyielding warmth welled up in her heart in the place of the ravenous longing she had been experiencing before. She was with Rhys now, and all was well, at least for the day.

She looked down and watched the vibrant landscape of Velaris fly by beneath them. She could easily fly herself, but she didn’t want to. At least for now, she wanted to be held by him. Judging by the way his arms were wrapped around her more tightly than usual, it was clear that he was enjoying it too. There was something about him holding her like that. It always gave her butterflies, no matter how long they had been together. Even with the centuries stretching out before them, she could be sure that that would never change. Not this, and not the way they felt for each other. She would always look at him as though he had hung the very stars that shone above Ramiel on the Night Court’s insignia, and he would always look to her and see his darling mate, his salvation.

They continued their flight. When he landed and sat her on her feet, she mourned the close contact. She took in their surroundings. They stood on a hill overlooking the city. From the vantage point, she could see it all. She saw the rainbow and the Sidra, twinking as it reflected the sun’s light. What she took the most note of, though, was the blanket laid out on the grass, a small basket sitting at its center.

A picnic.

Rhys had planned a picnic.

She didn’t realize it was possible to love him more than she already did.

He watched her intently, taking in the shift in her expression. He grinned widely. He loved seeing her like this, happy and content. For once, she looked her age. She looked like the 20 year-old girl she was, and without eyes that looked haunted or scared. Their duties could wait. Right now, as they stood on this hill, things were for once simple. The world was quiet, save for the slight breeze that occasionally brushed against their ears. They were happy. War and politics be damned.

“Happy, my love?”

She looked down to find that her hand was glowing. It seemed that her body was speaking for itself. Instead of answering, she took a few steps toward him, placing her shining palm on the side of his face, stroking his cheek. His violet eyes were alight with the spark of love. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. It wasn’t like things had been recently. It wasn’t the quick kiss of someone trying to make time between meetings or the kind of kiss she would give him as she passed him on the way to feed Nyx. The kiss they now shared was sweet, unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world to stand there and relish in what they were feeling.

After what felt like a millenia, he slowly pulled away from her, once again meeting her eyes.

“I’ve missed that,” he said.

“I’ve missed you,” Feyre replied, tears brimming in her eyes. But she was smiling, a broad, indestructible smile that made Rhys look at her in wonder

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Rhys motioned to the blanket.

“Let’s get more comfortable.”

They made their way over to the blanket and they sat next to one another. She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. With his other arm, he reached for the basket, producing several sandwiches and a container of what she assumed was some sort of stew. He sat the food in front of them before he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

She knew she was likely still glowing. She didn’t need to look down to know. Rhys picked up one of the sandwiches and held it to her lips. She took a bite, savoring the taste. She quickly realized where she had tasted it before. It was one of the sandwiches from her favorite restaurant. She beamed. Her clever, loving mate had gone there and procured it for her, just to make her happy. She recalled a time when such a thing would have been an ordeal, a time when her former lover had refused to so much as let her leave the house. She wished more than anything that she could go back in time and tell that girl that this was waiting on the horizon, that such a love awaited her beyond all the turmoil.

He put a hand on her hair, lightly stroking it as he held up the sandwich once again for her. She took another bite, turning slightly.

“I can feed myself, you know,” she laughed.

“What kind of male would I be if I didn’t care for my lovely hardworking mate?”

She reached over, grabbing a sandwich and holding it up for him. They spent the rest of the picnic like that, feeding each other bits of food and staring into one another’s eyes. When they had finished their meal, Rhys put what remained back in the basket and pulled her closer, pushing her head down onto his lap as he continued to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a while, him stroking her hair and occasionally leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had been going on for some time when he finally said, “I don’t know what I’ve done in this life to deserve this. To deserve you.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were tender.

“You do deserve this. You’ve done so much good in your life, Rhys. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled.

“You are my happiness,” he said, his voice shaky, pressing another kiss to her brow, “and I will spend the rest of this eternity showing you how much I treasure you, my love, my mate, my salvation.”

She looked into his eyes. She wanted to say something, but she was at a loss. No words in her vocabulary could accurately describe what she was feeling, the depth of her affection for the male in front of her. She hoped her face and the glow of her skin said enough. They seemed to, as a moment later he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“My Feyre,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “my light.”

“I love you,” she said. She had never meant anything more.

“I love you too,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

He continued trailing light kisses down the column of her throat, smiling into her neck as he heard her breath hitch slightly. He readjusted, laying her down on the blanket. Her face was flushed as he stared down at her. He knelt down on top of her, pressing a long kiss onto her collarbone.

“Now prepare yourself, darling,” he said, “I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

She was not prepared.

Tag List:

@feysandandnyxsworld

@that-sociopathic-hufflepuff

@emikadreams

@highladysith

@cardansfae

@aelin-bitch-queen

tagging some ppl who wanted to be in my jealous rhysand fic just in case u wanna se thisss

@live-the-fangirl-life

@story-scribbler

[chaoticgeminate]

I posted 5,095 times in 2022

That's 4,554 more posts than 2021!

441 posts created (9%)

4,654 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@galahadwilder

@mari13606

@grogusmum

@writeforfandoms

@quicksilversquared

I tagged 2,775 of my posts in 2022

Only 46% of my posts had no tags

#queue me up - 232 posts

#fic rec - 218 posts

#pedro pascal - 210 posts

#discord bestie - 178 posts

#comment reply - 171 posts

#fic rec if 18+ - 165 posts

#ask answer - 127 posts

#art rebobble - 124 posts

#chaoticrambles - 110 posts

#chaoticwrites - 96 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#you could have easily just not sent this but whoever you are i hope you find spiders in your shoes for the rest of your life every morning

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I'm All Yours

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!Reader

Rating: G (Domestic fluff)

Word Count: 792

Masterlist

Summary: Musings and market meandering with Javi and his amada.

Notes: Thanks to the alternate FMK post here, @lowlights had me scheme this up and I couldn't stop myself. This one is for you, Laura 💙!

If you’d asked seventeen year old Javier where he saw himself in ten years his answer never would have been Colombia, working for the DEA, and if you asked twenty-seven year old Javier where he saw himself in ten years his answer wouldn’t have been happily in a relationship with the sweetest woman in the world home in Texas and retired from the DEA.

But here he was.

Somehow life had circled back for him, the world turning and taking him to another country and back, but this time he wasn’t the wild child of Laredo planning to propose to his high school sweetheart fresh out of graduation. He was older, wiser, more jaded, but also happier.

“So, I was thinking of trying to make something new tonight.” Your grin was wide but soft, full of nothing but adoration, and it was a damn miracle that you’d even crossed paths back in Bogotá.

He had stopped into a panadería for a late breakfast and you’d been there grabbing an early lunch, sight-seeing with friends on a long vacation that you’d all managed to save up for, and you’d gotten each other’s food but only found out after Javier had gotten back to the Embassy.

After that he’d run into you again, once more at the panadería, but instead of ordering the torta maria luisa again, you ordered pandebono rellano de arequipe. Hearing you order his go-to sweet had made Javier smile and come up closer, telling you to try the pandebono con bocadillo too.

The pair of you had split the filled cheese bread treats, as well as a slice of torta de café that Javier insisted on paying for, and you’d agreed to meet him at the panadería every morning for breakfast while you were in Bogotá.

Three days of just breakfast dates turned into dinner invitations, which eventually led to you back at his place in his bed, and when your time in Colombia was coming to an end Javier had a choice of his own to make.

Go to Mexico or go home to Laredo.

Javi had chosen option three.

“What were you thinking of trying, mi amada?” You smiled at his nickname, when he’d told you it meant ‘my beloved’ it had made you giggle shyly and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth as the pair of you sat together for your first dinner date with Steve and Connie in Miami.

“Coconut rice, maybe with grilled fish? Oh, and definitely ajiaco.” Javier smiled as you held the woven basket to your side, walking with you through the local Latino market together, and his hand held your left one gently while his thumb played with your engagement ring.

Javier had proposed after two years of living in Miami working for the local PD as a consult for recognizing sicaros out and about, you’d accepted without hesitating and even agreed to move to Laredo with him after his Pops called about getting bust up from the ranch and needing to slow down. Now the two of you were living at the ranch, a second home being built on the property that was larger than the little two-bedroom he’d grown up in, and your wedding was fast approaching.

“Do you know what you need?” His question made you pause and look up at him, shaking your head innocently, and Javier couldn’t help his chuckle as he shook his head and guided you toward the fruits first for the coconut.

You tried to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation between him and the abuela running the stand, commendable and even the elder woman said as much, but eventually you surrendered and began asking him things in English that he translated and clarified for you.

Coconut and guava made their way into the basket along with two bags of masarepa since he knew arepas con queso were among your favorite snacks, and Javier chuckled as you bee-lined for the vegetables.

“Mi amor.” Your endearment was soft, it was probably the most fluent thing you could say in Spanish, and it made his heart soar every time.

“Sí?”

“I think I want to learn how to make pandebono rellano de arequipe.” The gleam in your eyes as you teased him with his favorite morning sweet, aside from you, spoke of very wicked things and Javi couldn’t help the way his body reacted to the obvious come on.

You were as subtle as an eighteen wheeler when you wanted him, which was more of a turn on than anything, but looking at him like that telling him you wanted to learn how to make his favorite treat?

He hated that you still had shopping to do.

“When we get home-“

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179 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

#4

PICREW <3

Thank you for the tag @flora-screeches !

Feel free to join in here

No pressure tags:

@phoebe-danvers @toomanystoriessolittletime @ezrasbirdie @musings-of-a-rose @wordsnwhiskey @starlightmornings @pagannightwitch @daddydindjarin @leslie-lyman @grogusmum @oonajaeadira

OPEN TO ALL OF COURSE &lt;3

197 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#3

Never Really Over - Sparks Fly (i)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x Female Reader x Dieter Bravo Rating: E (Explicit, Minors DNI) Warnings/Possible Triggers: Vague mentions of past/present substance use (coke and alcohol), Dom/Sub elements, M/M/F, SHAMELESS smut

Word Count: 10.6K Notes: This started out as angst (which I hate to write) and then the lovely @ezrasbirdie and @wordsnwhiskey let me talk it out to them and woke up the whore brain who ended up writing this instead so now you get shameless self-indulgent smut.

Other conspirators and spectators to my whore brain at work include @pagannightwitch, @coastielaceispunk, @musings-of-a-rose, and @daddydindjarin who all requested a tag when this was finished so if you enjoyed this please thank them for their hard work in encouraging me. Also throwing a tag out for @lowlights, @iamskyereads, @mandoblowmybackout, and @javierpinme because I have NO DOUBT they were paying attention to my screaming.

I tried really hard not to use any sort of descriptions to code the reader any way other than female but if I did somewhere please let me know kindly. Not beta read at all, ya'll get this raw as hell and I'm still kind of new to writing smut so please be gentle 💙 I have not ever done, nor have the intention of doing, hard drugs and if you or a loved one or friend has a history of use and addiction problems please remember that help is out there for you both for the user and their support system and that even if it's hard and scary to confront it that at least I will be proud of you for taking steps to be the best you that you can be.

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199 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

#2

Allure

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.1K Content Warnings: Thar be monsterfucking ahead (Din is an alien here), sex pollen/pheromone influence (but consensual), mentions of crazy alien biology for pointless plot and because I'm a nerd, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! Notes: This is a birthday request/gift to @hardc0rehaylz! Hope you enjoy, birthday girl 💙 Reader has the nickname "Miss Fortune" but I tried to avoid any other descriptors.

Something was wrong with you.

For the past week you’d begun waking up overheated, sheets stained from sweat and messy drenched underwear, and you’d wondered if you were having some really good dreams that you just weren’t remembering but never had it been a week straight consistently. The only saving grace was that your new traveling companions, Mando and Grogu, were in the crew bunks while you had your soundproofed Captain’s quarters.

You couldn’t begin to imagine the quick death you’d be given for potentially “corrupting” the child.

Taking on the armored bounty hunter and his green pollywog as a crew hadn’t been in your plans but he had promised good pay and Peli was able to modify the star fighter port on your ship to fit his N-1 without an issue. A scrapper and a bounty hunter, the pair of you were definitely something and as much as his quiet demeanor had been kind of off-putting at the start you’d gotten to know his body language pretty well.

The kid was cute too, so that was always a plus.

You let out the softest sound of annoyance before getting up, taking the coldest shower you could since you were set to land today and drop off some of the higher value scrap stored in the hull. It would have been nice to be able to take care of yourself but that just wasn’t in the cards, instead you willed that ache away as best you could under the ice cold spray. A fresh two-piece flightsuit was thrown on over your compression leggings and thermal top –it wasn’t exactly warm in space, even with environmental controls- and after tugging on your boots you made your way toward the bridge.

You noticed Mando and Grogu sitting in the lounge area, the pollywog was playing with that little metal ball you saw him with constantly while the armored hunter was looking over your spare datapad with electronic schematics in it. His old ship was pre-Empire so he struggled with some of the repairs on yours, his way of chipping in was to handle minor fixes for you since he’d paid to install a mobile carbonite unit, so he’d been determined to learn what he could.

But watching him sit up straighter, the way his shoulders practically jumped, made you pause. His helmet turned slowly toward you and it almost came across as a bashful gesture.

“Mando? You okay there?” His shoulders drooped as he nodded and you decided to ignore his weird behavior, since there was no chance in the Maker that he’d ever actually tell you what was wrong with him. Instead you hit the bridge and double checked the coordinates and autopilot settings, your astromech was in the process of repairs and waiting for you back at the Guild headquarters so everything was manual for now, and Mando was lucky that he could do the calculations in his head after nearly destroying Belt.

You sat down in your seat and smiled when you heard Mando’s heavy steps take the gunners chair, he’d deferred to your flying after a particularly nasty dogfight you’d won while soaring through an asteroid field. With you in the pilot’s seat and him in the gunner chair no other scrappers or smugglers had been able to bully Lady Luck away from a haul again. Added to the repairs and modifications Mando helped fund, after you were introduced to the stubborn and charming –in her own way- Peli Motto, your light freighter was a bounty hunter and scrapper’s dream.

Neither of you spoke as you navigated through the energy barricades, landing in your designated dock at the spaceport, and you waved to a few of the usual attendants after opening the cargo doors so they could begin unloading. Jaxom waved at you and an amused smile crossed the Toydarian’s face as Mando walked just behind you, very close to your back, but your eyes landed on the numerous Jawa convoys that were here to buy up what they could.

The little scavengers weren’t unusual here but they were known to try and steal right out of fresh drops, luckily for you the loading and unloading crews weren’t amateurs.

“Welcome back, Miss Fortune, I already see several high credit items being unloaded as we speak and am quite eager to see what you might’ve brought home.” You shrugged Jaxom’s arm off your shoulder and playfully punched the Guild Coordinator in the arm. His flirting wasn’t anything serious but you still discouraged it where you could, you did not want to give him the idea that you’d ever accept his company.

“Hands to yourself Jax, I know where them mitts of yours have been.”

“You wound me, but I suppose you’re right, I keep telling you not to assume the Hutts aren’t good lovers.”

“Yuck, no fuckin’ way you disgusting slug licker. Is Belt repaired yet?” You nearly buckled at the sudden touch of Mando’s gloved hand on your lower back as he moved beside you, the heat that shot through your body almost made you fall into him, and your everything responded enthusiastically to the contact. Jaxom looked between the two of you and his hands rose in a placating gesture before he stepped aside to go count up your haul, leaving you to head into the workshop where Belt greeted you with a cheerful chime.

The entire walk you had Mando’s hand on you, the heat of it practically radiating through his glove, and as much as you wanted to him ask why he was doing that your tongue had felt like it was swollen and you were almost wondering if anyone could see the effect it had on you.

Belt chimed and the BB-2 unit rolled over toward you with a cheerful little cry, you crouched down and immediately hugged him close. With Mando’s hand off your back there was just enough of a sharpness that returned to you, something was definitely wrong but you couldn’t run a health scan quite yet.

“Belt, look at you, lookin’ real good now. Mando promised not to try and shoot you again, okay? So if he tries anything let me know right away.” The droid hummed and its head shifted to look up into the dark visor, then back to you, before Belt chirped and whistled in agreement. You couldn’t help but smile when Grogu whined and reached for the droid, he’d devloped a quick attachment after all, but it was even cuter as Mando set the child on Belt’s dome head and the droid rolled after the armored hunter with Grogu on him.

You bit your cheek to avoid laughing and waved to Grogu, heading for the cantina for a drink and to meet with Jaxom for your pay as Belt followed Mando back onto Lady Luck. The fact that getting distance from Mando made that strange heat burning under your skin dissipate a little didn’t really clock you as strange, even though it should have, and Jaxom watched the door as you walked in as if waiting for the bounty hunter to follow.

After being grilled about when you’d started sleeping with the tin can –which you hadn’t, even if you wanted to- Jaxom finally paid you and sent you on your way. Mando had two bounties on planets nearby so once refueling was done you were set to leave, your steps were light and you were ready to just lock yourself back in your room for some relief when you stepped into the hull and were nearly bowled over by the sharp spicy musk that practically permeated everything. Your knees trembled and you did go down, after the hull doors closed at least, while you struggled to breathe past the thick air.

Heavy footsteps made you look up and Mando uttered a soft curse, scooping you up with one arm as the other rested just below your ass like a seat as he pressed you against his body and hurried toward your cabin.

“Mando?”

You had a thousand and one questions but your tongue refused to work, everything was starting to feel fuzzy, and Mando continued to utter curses as he set you into your bunk and disappeared. The thick air seemed to follow him, your room suddenly felt too small and your skin was too hot, hurriedly you began to fumble with your flight suit to just get it off. It was like you couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, everything was too tight and your clothes felt itchy and uncomfortable.

“Easy, hey, wait-“

Mando’s return was quiet and the door closed behind him, his hands stilling your movements, and that helmet was practically burning through you.

“You’re okay, it’s not- it’s me, this is my fault.”

“What is it?”

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263 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Just The Way You Are

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem!Reader Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI) Word Count: 4.2k Contains: SMUT AHEAD, tummy worship, dick piercings, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV (wrap it up in real life) Notes: This is a very late birthday present for the lovely Ash (@mandoblowmybackout) so I hope you like it, love!

Somehow you weren’t surprised to find that your living room was upended, the couch and loveseat shoved as far back as they could be while Dieter held his body in a wobbly tree pose, and you took a long moment to just watch him from the entry hall of your apartment. His usual “athletic attire” of baggy sleep pants and a tee shirt were traded out for gym shorts and a tank top, they were definitely new since you didn’t recognize them, and you admired the way the purple fabric looked against his skin as Dieter struggled to keep his balance.

The television volume was low enough that he should have heard you come in, meaning he was either aware and just not paying attention or Dieter had truly gotten absorbed into the yoga program, so you went about unpacking your empty lunch containers to be washed and get yourself out of the now dry sweaty clothes you’d been wearing all day. Slipping into the shower, wanting to clean off the dried sweat and be able to relax, you couldn’t help but sigh as you let the hot water beat against your skin and work to relax your sore muscles.

Lingering in the shower, even after you were clean, you couldn’t help but hum as you stretched your own limbs to work out as much of the lingering discomfort as you could. Lugging around boxes upon boxes of heavy parts at work, since it was an inventory counting day, had left your arms feeling like noodles and your legs burned from the ache of all the lifting and walking you’d done.

Out of all the celebrities you’d ever met on a movie set Dieter was the only one who looked at you the same way he looked at every other person, he had asked if you wanted to have sex with him and despite your refusal he’d been kind. That kindness had sparked a horrendous crush; one that you’d never expected anything to come out of since he was an Oscar winner and had a history dating celebrities and fucking underwear models.

Someone like you was not even close to being on his radar, but you’d somehow managed to become his friend over the course of shooting and now Dieter spent a lot of time crashing at your place rather than his home in Beverly Hills, and all the proximity was doing was making it hard to deny that you truly had feelings for him. One of your hands skated up to circle your nipple and the other slid down to run along your folds in a teasing way, you’d seen him in a wide variety of comfortable loungewear before but something about his purple shorts and white tank-top did it for you.

“F-fuck.” The word slipped out before you could bite your lip, imagining that it was Dieter’s careful touch instead of yours, and when you circled your clit with a breathy exhale you knew that you’d have to rush when you heard the drag of the furniture through the door. You worked your body with precision, letting your mind wander to the idea of Dieter coming into the bathroom unannounced and joining you, so when you did manage to finally come it was on the edge of unsatisfying but still took enough of the tension off.

It was just in time as a knock sounded on the door.

“Gonna use all the hot water in there?”

“Piss off, it’s my apartment.”

Your reply earned a laugh and you snorted softly as you turned everything off and got out, after a quick rinse of course, and throwing on your loungewear before daring to exit the bathroom. Dieter studied you as you stepped out into the living room, which he’d put back to rights for you, and as you grabbed one of your books from your reading stack he headed for the bathroom next.

One of the best things about your apartment was the double casement window you’d turned into a reading nook, building a thickly padded bench with shelves for books beneath and between two taller bookshelves that framed the window which you could lean against and LED lights were fastened into the front of the shelves and softened by a shaded resin cover so that you always had light to read if you needed it.

While your window did open to your balcony the outdoor space was not protected that well from the elements, so on rainy days you could still enjoy the fresh air without risking getting drenched by cracking your casement windows open just a little.

You were pretty far into your book when Dieter nudged you and gestured to your breakfast bar -which was where you ate since you didn’t need a dining table- where he had set up dinner. The mess piled by your sink made you glance at him; he didn’t like cooking so the fact that he had made dinner was enough to have you wondering if you’d done something or he’d gotten some big role. Dieter had gone for vegan tacos, his distrust of wireless technology had spiraled into an almost comedic distrust of heavily processed foods.

“Thank you for making dinner.” Dieter blinked and hurried to swallow the mouthful of food he’d taken, you couldn’t help but wince given that he’d hardly even chewed it.

“If I’d left it to you then something tells me we’d end up getting take-out.” The jab was playful so you didn’t take offense to it, mostly because he was right, and you couldn’t help but nudge him before beginning to eat. The pair of you watched some YouTube videos from his iPad together as you ate, laughing over professionals critiquing life hack videos related to their field, and you even mentioned a few of your embarrassing stories about needing to learn to fix things when you first moved out.

By the time you were both cleaning up the dishes your ribs hurt from laughing, your cheeks ached from smiling, and Dieter was red in the face. It was so easy to be around him, even with his occasional drug use the man had never hurt you or scared you, and especially moments like these you knew why you’d developed a crush on him. It didn’t help that he liked to lounge around shirtless in a bathrobe and shorts, like he was doing now, for some reason his arms were the parts of himself he wasn’t entirely keen on showing.

Dieter dried off the last pot and put it away, wiping your counter down with a Clorox wipe, and you couldn’t help but notice that he had a new tattoo on his hand that you didn’t recognize.

“Dee?”

It was four little spines with a date in the middle and bands making a circle between the spines, he followed your gaze and finally looked up at you.

“I uh, that’s when I decided to go clean.” He showed you the NA Google search result and your eyes misted over before you could stop yourself.

“That was six weeks ago- I’m so proud of you Dee.” His lips lifted into a smile and the hug he gave you as you squeezed him tightly made your skin tingle, you’d always believed he could –and would- be able to beat his addiction with the right motivation and drive. You wanted to ask why, what happened that he decided enough was enough, but you also didn’t want to keep talking about it since you could tell he was uncomfortable thinking about his goal to get better.

The inconsistent yoga times made sense now, he’d started about six weeks ago, it was a way for him to do something else whenever he got the urge to use.

“Thanks, I- I appreciate you more than you know.” His voice caught and you stepped back to look up at him, wondering if something was wrong, but the expression on his face was all softness. He leaned down and kissed you, before you could ask him if he was okay, and the touch of his lips on yours sent chills from the back of your neck down to your toes.

When you leaned closer, when you let yourself surrender to the affection that you’d only dreamed of, was when Dieter pulled you closer and kissed you like he wouldn’t be able to breathe otherwise. It was intense, desperate, and you were swept up in his mouth on yours. Hands burrowed into hair and his curls were soft between your fingers as he gripped you tight enough that it felt like he was trying to embed the ghost of his fingerprints into your skin.

The smell of the Clorox solution from the open container was jarring when he knocked it over in his attempt to drag you out of the kitchen, the liquid spilling onto the tile floor and soaking into your socks, and Dieter made an annoyed grumble into your mouth before he hurried to tidy up his mess and make sure you didn’t slip. The pair of you burst into giggles as he finally helped slide you out of the kitchen onto the carpeted living room floor, your socks quickly removed and feet wiped down with a paper towel, and you took pleasure watching him grab your mop and just run the solution over your floor instead of fighting it.

“You should wash your feet, so the chemicals don’t irritate your skin.” Dieter’s concern made you smile, shucking your socks into your hamper, and you took the time to brush your teeth as well as freshen up. Even if nothing but kissing happened –unlikely- you were buzzing with anxiety and dealing with all your stupid insecurities trying to rear their ugly heads. You made it two steps into your bedroom before Dieter’s hands were grabbing at your hips and dragging you back against him as he slotted his mouth against the side of your neck.

You spun in his hold and Dieter pulled back a moment to study your face, his eyes wide and his expression vulnerable, and you offered him your softest smile. You knew he was really insecure, under all his Hollywood bluster, so you didn’t push him for an answer and instead waited for him to either speak or return to what he was doing. Dieter’s expression melted to something serene and his next kiss was slower, deeper, and stoked the earlier arousal that you’d tried to get rid of in the shower.

Each slow step backward was taken as one unit, his grip was firm but no longer riding the edge between pleasure and pain, and Dieter spun so his back hit the mattress first. You grinned down at him as you moved up onto your hands and knees over him, feeling his hands slide along the outside of your hips and around the curve of your ass, and Dieter moaned when you dipped your head to lick into the little hollow between his collar bones before sinking your teeth into his pectoral and sucking a mark into the soft muscle.

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340 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

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[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: so this chapter doesn't exactly have a hay bale maze but it has something even better :)

***

Being a legal consultant is surprisingly easy.

Years of studying business law in order to take down big corporations in the courtroom is now being used to help a big corporation— Nesta wants to be disgusted at the state of her morals. Fortunately for her, all the issues that have come across her desk so far are minor negotiation matters. The way Night Court Inc. is run is virtually perfect, and she almost hopes a blatant lawsuit drops into her lap just so she can give Rhysand and his sycophantic workers hell.

Though Nesta knows better than to dream big. This is essentially busy work that Night Court’s actual lawyers don't have time to do, but she's grateful for it either way. She's grateful for the man who got her this job even more.

When her car finally gets back from the auto shop one sunny November morning, Cassian suggests they go out to celebrate.

“Celebrate what?” Nesta says. “Not having to rely on you for rides anymore?”

“Exactly that.” Cassian grins and leans his elbow against the kitchen counter. “There’s a fall festival an hour north of here that pops up every year. There's good food and hot cider. Let’s go.” He nudges her excitedly.

Nesta narrows her eyes at him. “You’ve been planning this,” she accuses.

“I go every year,” he shrugs. “Come on, we have the whole day ahead of us.”

He makes pleading puppy eyes that have absolutely no effect on Nesta, but she doesn't want to hurt his ego by letting him know that.

There is nothing appealing to her about going out into the cold and doing autumn-related activities, so she surprises herself and Cassian both when she agrees to go. He rewards her with a wide smile and tells her to get ready.

Nesta feels oddly giddy afterward. She can't recognize the feeling, so she tamps down on it while she gets dressed and braids her hair.

Outside, her burgeoning smile drops when she sees Cassian getting the truck started. “I thought the point of this was that we could use my car now.” She gestures to her beat up blue sedan, a sad little thing parked next to Cassian’s fancy truck.

“Nes, if I thought your car could go anywhere near a mountain road without falling to pieces, I would get in it without hesitation.”

It's as close to apologetic sympathy as she’ll get from him, so she only grumbles a little before climbing into the passenger seat she's gotten all too familiar with.

The door slams as Cassian gets in the driver’s seat, and something on the dashboard catches Nesta’s attention. Reaching out, she picks up one of her coloring books and her zipper bag full of markers and pencils.

She glances at Cassian. “Is this for me?”

He looks up from where he’s buckling his seatbelt. “Oh, I just picked it up on my way out. Cell signal gets spotty the closer we get to the mountains, so you might get bored.”

Nesta looks down at the coloring book she's clutching, surprised.

“Did you want anything else before we leave?” Cassian says. “I can run inside and pick up some books.”

“No— no, this is good,” she says softly. She flips the page open to a fresh landscape scene, black on white lines staring back at her. “Thank you.”

She unzips her pencil bag with a new reverence, barely noticing as they pull out of the driveway and head for the highway leading out of town.

Nesta is intent on her coloring the entire ride, falling far too easily into that little bubble of her own mind where she forgets that other things and people exist. Cassian, unlike most people, doesn't seem to mind this. He's content with driving in the quiet, the only sound the soft crackle of the radio and the scratch of Nesta’s pencils.

She’s trying to get the blue shades of the lake just right when she feels the truck start to slow, and she looks up to see that they're in some kind of parking lot. Ahead, a market-carnival setup sits at the base of the mountains, and it sprawls as far as her eyes can see. “We’re here already?”

“Yeah.” Cassian glances at her hesitantly. “Is it lame?” He gestures to the autumn-themed affair, as if he’ll turn around and drive them right back home if it isn't to Nesta’s liking.

Nesta can’t pay the festival any attention yet. “I’m not done with this picture yet,” she says simply. She holds it up for Cassian to see, even though he probably can't tell that the mostly-completed picture is still missing a couple of details.

He just says, “We’ll wait till you're finished, then.”

She brightens with relief, and takes her time adjusting the colors of the landscape to her liking. As soon as she's satisfied with what she has, though, she throws her pencils and book down like they're on fire and grabs her coat. “Let's go,” she demands.

If Cassian is surprised at her sudden change of pace, he hides it well and follows Nesta onto the fairground. “Slow down,” he calls for her.

Perhaps the fall season isn't terrible, Nesta thinks as they buy warm candied apples. The air smells nice and the weather is brisk and Cassian stands so close to her that she never quite gets cold.

It feels almost like a date.

Nesta glances at Cassian from the corner of her eye as she chews on her apple. Wind ruffles his hair and his brown cheeks are flushed red, but he looks content. It's too bad they're just friends, because this would have been a nice date.

She has to stop her train of thought before she gets distracted by how Cassian’s hand isn't holding anything, and how her hand isn't holding anything, and maybe their hands should—

She makes a fist with her free hand and shoves it into her coat pocket. This is why she doesn't usually have friends, she remembers— because she can never stop hungering for more.

Nesta and Cassian’s not-date is spent with Cassian throwing his money at every other thing he sees on sale, and Nesta biting her tongue at the unnecessary waste of it all.

“Eight dollars for a cup of cider? Come on, you're being scammed.” Nesta pulls at his elbow, trying to lead him away from the drinks stand.

“But it comes in one of those cute little jars,” Cassian protests as he’s pulled away.

There’s a laughably small hay-bale maze that they complete in less than three minutes, thanks to Cassian being tall enough to see over the hay bales. Then there’s a ferris wheel that Nesta adamantly refuses to get onto, regardless of how high it goes or not. And then, without either of them noticing, the sun starts slipping behind the mountains.

With her arms full of bags of snacks and random knickknacks that she’ll never need in her life, Nesta finds herself back in the market area.

There’s a painting at an art stand that has caught her attention. Something about the brush strokes and choice of color palette… it reminds her of Feyre’s art style. Amateur, but warm and comforting, clearly made with love and dedication. She approaches the elder salesman carefully, only wanting a closer look at the piece.

It’s of a glittering forest in the peak of autumn, ruby and flame-colored leaves littering the scene. An unwalked pathway cuts through the scene, and a longing Nesta can’t place swells in her stomach.

“My daughter painted this one,” the salesman says to her, pride peeking through his voice. She glances up at the kind-faced man. “Only this one?” she asks. The rest of the paintings don’t have the same art style, Feyre’s style.

“Yes.” He places a protective hand over the canvas. “She’s still learning, but she’s got heart and potential. One day she’ll be a better artist than me.”

Nesta blinks at his words. “How much is it?”

“How much do you have?”

She looks down at her hands full of shopping bags and realizes not one of them is carrying her wallet. “Oh, I must have left my money with my—” She glances up then and looks around. “Cassian?”

He was just here with her. They were walking together and she took note of the pretty fairy lights that were starting to turn on, and then she saw the art stand. She scans the milling crowd for a glimpse of his face, but it’s five p.m. and fully dark now.

Unease starts to pump in her chest. “Cassian?” she calls again. She wanders away from the art stand, painting and salesman forgotten. Maneuvering her full hands, she wrangles her phone out of her back pocket and turns it on. Just as she suspected— no signal. Waving it high in the air doesn’t do much for her either.

Shoving her phone back in her pocket, Nesta takes a strained breath and resolves to keep looking. If she can’t find him, she can always make her way back to the parking lot—

Something shoves hard into Nesta’s back, and her glasses slip right off her nose in the collision. She feels a metallic crunch under her boot and gasps. Suddenly there are people everywhere, heading in the opposite direction that she is, and whoever bumped into her yells a quick apology that gets lost in the crush of bodies.

Nesta stumbles out of the crowd, blinking quickly. She can’t see a thing, and the fairy lights are now blurry orbs. “My glasses—” she says to nobody. She scans the flattened grass and dirt furiously, squinting until she gets a headache, but she can’t find them. “Shit.”

She ends up roaming out of the market area, finding herself back on the fairgrounds. There are a few tents around her, but they're empty and the noise has died down. She doesn’t know where she’s going.

At one point, Nesta simply drops her bags and keeps walking without them. She barely notices leaving them behind. The magic has drained out of the festival, and she just wants to find her way back to Cassian’s truck. If the ferris wheel is that way, then the exit should be that way… she thinks.

She looks around in the dark, frustrated tears rising at her inability to recognize anything. She's alone. She’s cold. She was abandoned.

Nesta doesn't know how long she stands there, hopeless in some deserted corner of the fairgrounds. She forgets what she's supposed to be doing, and just stands there staring at nothing. Escaping to a numbing void in her mind.

The desperate call of her name brings her back to earth.

Blinking, Nesta turns around to find a tall figure heading towards her. Cassian.

He’s holding something in his hand, she can tell, but he drops it when he sees her face and breaks into a run.

“Nesta!” Hard warmth crashes into her as strong arms grab her and yank her close. Her face presses into his chest, and hot tears fall despite the lingering numbness.

“Where did you go?” Cassian is demanding. “You had me so fucking scared—”

“I lost my glasses,” she says weakly into the wool of his coat.

“I know.” He goes from stroking her back to clutching her face. His thumbs rub at the wetness beneath her eyes, and finally she can see his face. He’s close enough that she can read every detail, their foreheads pressed tightly together. He isn't letting go.

She presses her lips together. “I lost you.”

“I know.”

In the next moment, Nesta feels everything all at once: Cassian’s heavy breath on her face, his fingers digging into her scalp, his hazel eyes looking relieved and apologetic and terrified at the same time. His heartbeat racing beneath her hands.

For the briefest eternity, Nesta and Cassian share the same mind. They are thinking the exact same thing.

There’s a moment of painful hesitation, where Nesta has the opportunity to pull away. She doesn't take it, and by then it's too late— Cassian’s mouth is on hers.

Oh. Oh.

Nesta buckles a little under the weight of his kiss, but he holds her upright with his grip. His fingers wind so tightly into her braid she worries he might undo the whole thing, but then she's tucking her cold hands into the warmth of his sweater and wow, what a wonderful end to a terrible night.

His lips break from hers for a breath, only to come in again and kiss her deeper this time. A helpless noise escapes from one or both of them. She’s unraveling with every stroke of his tongue, and she thinks distantly that if kisses were flavored, this one would be sweet enough to make her teeth ache.

It's over far too soon, with Cassian’s series of kisses slowing until they stop completely. He pulls back far enough that they both have room to breathe, and with oxygen comes sharp reality.

For once, Nesta has no words. Her thought process is a tape jammed on a few moments ago, so Cassian is the one that has to slowly drop his hands from her hair and clear his throat.

“Let's go home,” is all he says.

***

The drive back to the cabin is silent. Nesta puts her earbuds in and turns on music as soon as they get in the truck, and halfway home Cassian glances over and realizes she's fallen asleep.

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and it's a struggle to keep his eyes on the headlight-lit road ahead.

Losing track of Nesta with no way to contact her was one thing, but nothing scared Cassian more than when his eyes caught the metallic glint of broken gold rims in the trampled dirt of the marketplace.

After running from stall to stall searching for Nesta, only one man was able to give Cassian a straight answer. “She was looking at some art and then she went that way,” the old salesman pointed. “She seemed upset; I think she was looking for you.”

The pieces of Nesta's glasses sit in a bag in the backseat now, tucked alongside a canvas painting of an autumn landscape.

The relief Cassian felt when he found her in one piece, when she turned to him with the saddest eyes— he was more cemented in his feelings for her in that moment than in any late night he’d spent dreaming about her.

And when she looked at him like that, fighting not to cry… it was over for him. Weeks of restraint that he hadn't even noticed building up snapped at the last second, until he was kissing Nesta like it was his final dying wish. All of it, utterly over.

He glances over to her now, where she sleeps with her head against the fogged window, exhausted after the day she's had. His hands twitch with the temptation to reach out and touch her.

Gravel crunches as Cassian pulls up into the driveway, and he looks at Nesta again and sighs. He almost goes to wake her, but changes his mind at the last moment and gets out of the car instead. Circling around to the passenger side, he opens the door and carefully lifts her out of her seat.

Her head lolls against his chest, but she doesn't wake. Stress and high emotions have no doubt knocked her out for the rest of the night.

Realizing there's no way to unlock the front door while holding Nesta, Cassian has to circle around to the back of the cabin, entering through the open kitchen door and carrying her on silent feet up the stairs.

Once she's safely tucked in her bed, Cassian can relax his shoulders for the first time all night. Later, he sits down in the half-lit kitchen with Nesta’s broken glasses before him. The frame is split right down the middle, but he already knows Nesta won't allow him to get her a new pair. He’ll need wire and some pliers.

Tying his hair back, he settles down and gets to work.

***

a/n: i'm trying to apologize less for my work but this chapter is not only short and late but also super iffy in terms of writing quality 🥴 so im sorry. if my secret snowflake gift has anything to do with it part 8 will also be a little late (i'm looking for balance guys i really am).

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01

[wintersouldier57]

The Picnic - Feysand

So @thebonecarver and I wrote this to celebrate hitting 100 followers a few days ago!! Thank you to everyone who has followed us! 😊

It had been a long few weeks for the high lord and lady of the night court. Between their regularly scheduled meetings and taking care of Nyx, things had been hard. They had scarcely found any time for themselves in the midst of it, hardly any to just be together, enjoying each other’s presence. When Feyre wasn’t at a meeting, Rhys was in the Illyrian mountains handling the armies with Cassian. When Rhys was home, Feyre was at the art studio. Their schedules never seemed to line up.

They often spoke mentally, providing each other as much comfort as they could in that capacity, but they soon found that even psychic communication had its limits when it came to comforting one another. Feyre missed the way his arms felt around her, the way he would whisper soothing words into her ear when things became too much to handle. She understood that they had their responsibilities to their court. They were high lord and lady, after all. Still, she was restless. She wanted nothing more than to feel his embrace, nothing more than to drown in a pool of the transcendent love he offered her.

There was a dull ache in her heart that she knew only he could alleviate. She longed for him. She had not known desperation so deep since her days before coming to Prythian. That desperation, that hunger, had burned, but never like this. It had seared from the inside out, but never straight from the heart. Not like this did. This killed slowly, she thought, deliberately. She felt as though she had been traipsing around Velaris with half a soul, never quite able to get comfortable anywhere she went.

She would see him today. For the first time in weeks, everything lined up. Cassian and Azriel had agreed to take Nyx off their hands for the day for what Cassian called “much-needed uncle time”. They would pick him up as soon as she returned home for the day.

She was a bit surprised that Cassian had not said anything, no teasing. She didn't say anything though, she did not want to give him any ideas. He probably does not want to lose any time with Nyx, she thought, and chuckled silently.

“What’s so funny my High Lady? Rhysie has some good jokes for once?” Rhysand must have heard that from wherever he was, because he responded in Feyre’s and Cassian’s head, At least my jokes don't have every female in all of Prythian running for the hills Cassian. Feyre laughed harder, Cassian chuckling as well.

“Well have fun you two, and be sure to be home at a respectable time, and PLEASE use a sound barrier, I do not want to have to explain what noises are being heard all over this cauldron-damned city to this little one.” He said in his most “mother hen” voice, and tickled a giggling Nyx in his arms. Feyre glared at him while he laughed, and Rhys must have said something in his head, for he laughed even harder.

“BYE CASSIAN” Feyre shouted, making a beeline to the door. She could still hear Cassian's laughter,

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was a nice day, perfect for a walk in the park or a trip to the market squares. Perhaps she and Rhys could take a walk when he returned. She would love nothing more than to walk through Velaris hand in hand with her mate. She missed simple intimacies like that, little touches.

You look simply delectable in that dress, Feyre darling.

He had spoken into her mind. Could he see her? Where was he? She looked around but could not find him. Suddenly, there was a pressure underneath her knees, lifting her into the air. She yelped, surprised that he had picked her up.After the initial surprise, she spoke;

“You should have given me some warning, you prick.”

He chuckled, “Now what would be the fun in that Feyre Darling?”

She tried her best to look unaffected by the nickname, and replied “The fun would be that I wouldn't have to scream and not fall on my face for all of Velaris to see.”

He put on a face of mock hurt. “You really think I would drop you darling? I would never!”

She glared. “Based on what you did last time, I won't trust you for another 1000 years, 900 if your lucky.”

He laughed harder, burrowing his face in my neck, to try and silence it. Once he calmed he breathed in my neck, savouring her smell.

“If I could bottle your smell I would drink it every day.” He sighed, hugging Feyre tightly, as if she could disappear any moment. And to be honest based on how long they had been apart, they both felt as if they would disappear, but thank the cauldron they wouldn't.

Finally, after all this time, they were together. She smiled as she nuzzled closer to his chest. Through the bond, she could feel the pure happiness coursing through Rhys. Her grin widened as she felt the wind blazing past them.

She wondered where he might be taking her. They hadn’t discussed their plans beyond spending the day together. Wherever they were headed, though, Feyre knew she would love it. She would love it because he would be there with her. For the first time in a long while, she was home. An unyielding warmth welled up in her heart in the place of the ravenous longing she had been experiencing before. She was with Rhys now, and all was well, at least for the day.

She looked down and watched the vibrant landscape of Velaris fly by beneath them. She could easily fly herself, but she didn’t want to. At least for now, she wanted to be held by him. Judging by the way his arms were wrapped around her more tightly than usual, it was clear that he was enjoying it too. There was something about him holding her like that. It always gave her butterflies, no matter how long they had been together. Even with the centuries stretching out before them, she could be sure that that would never change. Not this, and not the way they felt for each other. She would always look at him as though he had hung the very stars that shone above Ramiel on the Night Court’s insignia, and he would always look to her and see his darling mate, his salvation.

They continued their flight. When he landed and sat her on her feet, she mourned the close contact. She took in their surroundings. They stood on a hill overlooking the city. From the vantage point, she could see it all. She saw the rainbow and the Sidra, twinking as it reflected the sun’s light. What she took the most note of, though, was the blanket laid out on the grass, a small basket sitting at its center.

A picnic.

Rhys had planned a picnic.

She didn’t realize it was possible to love him more than she already did.

He watched her intently, taking in the shift in her expression. He grinned widely. He loved seeing her like this, happy and content. For once, she looked her age. She looked like the 20 year-old girl she was, and without eyes that looked haunted or scared. Their duties could wait. Right now, as they stood on this hill, things were for once simple. The world was quiet, save for the slight breeze that occasionally brushed against their ears. They were happy. War and politics be damned.

“Happy, my love?”

She looked down to find that her hand was glowing. It seemed that her body was speaking for itself. Instead of answering, she took a few steps toward him, placing her shining palm on the side of his face, stroking his cheek. His violet eyes were alight with the spark of love. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. It wasn’t like things had been recently. It wasn’t the quick kiss of someone trying to make time between meetings or the kind of kiss she would give him as she passed him on the way to feed Nyx. The kiss they now shared was sweet, unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world to stand there and relish in what they were feeling.

After what felt like a millenia, he slowly pulled away from her, once again meeting her eyes.

“I’ve missed that,” he said.

“I’ve missed you,” Feyre replied, tears brimming in her eyes. But she was smiling, a broad, indestructible smile that made Rhys look at her in wonder

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Rhys motioned to the blanket.

“Let’s get more comfortable.”

They made their way over to the blanket and they sat next to one another. She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. With his other arm, he reached for the basket, producing several sandwiches and a container of what she assumed was some sort of stew. He sat the food in front of them before he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

She knew she was likely still glowing. She didn’t need to look down to know. Rhys picked up one of the sandwiches and held it to her lips. She took a bite, savoring the taste. She quickly realized where she had tasted it before. It was one of the sandwiches from her favorite restaurant. She beamed. Her clever, loving mate had gone there and procured it for her, just to make her happy. She recalled a time when such a thing would have been an ordeal, a time when her former lover had refused to so much as let her leave the house. She wished more than anything that she could go back in time and tell that girl that this was waiting on the horizon, that such a love awaited her beyond all the turmoil.

He put a hand on her hair, lightly stroking it as he held up the sandwich once again for her. She took another bite, turning slightly.

“I can feed myself, you know,” she laughed.

“What kind of male would I be if I didn’t care for my lovely hardworking mate?”

She reached over, grabbing a sandwich and holding it up for him. They spent the rest of the picnic like that, feeding each other bits of food and staring into one another’s eyes. When they had finished their meal, Rhys put what remained back in the basket and pulled her closer, pushing her head down onto his lap as he continued to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a while, him stroking her hair and occasionally leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had been going on for some time when he finally said, “I don’t know what I’ve done in this life to deserve this. To deserve you.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were tender.

“You do deserve this. You’ve done so much good in your life, Rhys. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled.

“You are my happiness,” he said, his voice shaky, pressing another kiss to her brow, “and I will spend the rest of this eternity showing you how much I treasure you, my love, my mate, my salvation.”

She looked into his eyes. She wanted to say something, but she was at a loss. No words in her vocabulary could accurately describe what she was feeling, the depth of her affection for the male in front of her. She hoped her face and the glow of her skin said enough. They seemed to, as a moment later he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“My Feyre,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “my light.”

“I love you,” she said. She had never meant anything more.

“I love you too,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

He continued trailing light kisses down the column of her throat, smiling into her neck as he heard her breath hitch slightly. He readjusted, laying her down on the blanket. Her face was flushed as he stared down at her. He knelt down on top of her, pressing a long kiss onto her collarbone.

“Now prepare yourself, darling,” he said, “I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

She was not prepared.

[thatgamefromthatad]

Mobile Life Simulators, Ranked (Part 1)

I downloaded a whole ton of mobile life simulator games over the past couple weeks and I realized it wouldn’t be plausible to rank all of them in one go so I’m breaking it up into parts with more similar games grouped together (can’t say when the next part will be made but I’m definitely planning on doing more at some point). Thank you to @creativeghost51 for recommending I cover the Sims games and other life sims!

It’s hard to define what ties these Part 1 games together (as opposed to some other groups like idle life sims and text-based life sims) but I guess the biggest similarity would be that all of these games involve your sim characters living in a home where they can freely walk around, and can interact with objects and each other. With the exception of Virtual Families Lite you can also decorate, customize and expand your home.

Something I noticed about all of these games is that you don’t really have as much freedom to experiment and build your own storylines and such as you do with, for example, the Sims computer games. While the games aren’t completely linear and there is a variety of things you can do in each of these games, they don’t really have the same sandbox quality that I think about when I think about the Sims. Which is understandable - these games are free to play and they’re made to be played mostly on people’s phones so they are expectedly more on the casual side. But I just wanted to point that out in case anyone was looking for something like the Sims to play on their phones or tablets. I haven’t really seen a mobile game in existence yet that is going to give you that same life sim sandbox experience.

Anyway, here’s the ranking rubric for these games (I’ll go into more detail about all of these scores under the read more):

***

***

***

1. Home Street

Developer: Supersolid Ltd

Release Date: Oct. 10, 2017

I was actually really surprised by this game - while it is more marketed as a home design game than a life sim it has a lot of similarities to games like The Sims Mobile; you have a character you can customize and dress up in a wide variety of outfits, you can interact with and build relationships with other characters/players (although only friendships, not romantic relationships, and you can’t have kids) and you do hobby-like activities such as painting and cooking.

While there aren’t personality traits or careers in this game, you save up “ideas”corresponding to different emotions or attributes, which function as crafting materials to go toward your hobbies. Through your hobbies/crafting abilities you can complete jobs for other characters, like selling them vegetables from your garden or giving them something you’ve cooked.

🏡 Character Design: 3/4 (while the ability to customize your character’s facial features and such isn’t as advanced here as it is in The Sims Mobile, it still has a wider range of options than The Sims FreePlay and I prefer the art style of Home Street compared to FreePlay; there’s also a wide range of outfits and accessories and you can set different outfits for different activities)

🏡 Home Design: 4/4 (although you’ll probably notice from my screenshots that I’m not exactly a home design aficionado, I found placing decorations, walls and floors etc in this game to be a smoother and easier process than in any of the other games and I like the art style of the objects as well. There’s a good range of items, including ones your character can interact with in different ways, and I like having the various hobby workstations embedded into the home where you can place them wherever works best for you, which is also how it is in the Sims games. There’s a lot of potential for someone who’s more adept at home design than me to create really fun themed rooms and whatnot)

🏡 Gameplay: 9/10 (I really loved the gameplay concept in this game more than in any of the other games, I love leveling up to get new workstations and crafting items to fulfill tasks for other characters. The task concept kind of reminds me of Animal Crossing in a way. While the main screen can be a little busy at times, overall the game is really easy to navigate and does a good job of guiding you with goals and tasks without making it feel like you’re restricted to only following those exact tasks. The characters and dialog are also charming and make you feel like you’re progressing through a story as you level up)

🏡 Playtime vs. Wait Time (without paying to speed up tasks): 4/4 (while you do need to wait for your hobbies/crafting tasks to complete, they don’t really take that long and you can save time if you craft things ahead of time; also there are a lot of things you can do while you’re waiting. The wait times might get longer as you get further in the game but I played for about two weeks and so far I haven’t felt really stalled at any point)

🏡 Total: 20/22

2. The Sims Mobile

Developer: Electronic Arts

Release Date: March 6, 2018

I was also pleasantly surprised by this game, since I had played The Sims FreePlay years ago and didn’t really like it, but this one I liked a lot more and had quite a bit of fun with. As I mentioned before, it doesn’t have the same sandbox quality as the computer Sims games, but the character customization is the best out of all the life sims I played and there’s such an enormous catalog of different clothing and home design items to choose from, there are definitely a lot of fun possibilities.

There’s a fairly wide range of things to do although I did feel a little more confined to the tasks the game set out for me - for example I went with the careers that I had objectives for rather than picking careers I’d really want my character to have, plus you need to wait until you level up to unlock careers so you have less freedom in that aspect.

🦙 Character Design: 4/4 (This game actually uses sliding scales to customize different facial features and body types and such, and although it isn’t as advanced as in the computer games it is much more advanced than I’d expect for a casual mobile game and makes it a lot easier to make the characters look how you actually want them to. The catalog of things to dress your sims up in is also enormous and there’s a fun special fashion feature that creates unique clothes that boosts your stats for certain activities, which is why there are hearts floating around my sim in the screenshot. Oh and there’s a social feature to give other people’s sims stickers based on their outfits, which makes dressing up your sim more fun and exciting)

🦙 Home Design: 3/4 (The home design here is pretty fun and there is a wide range of items, and I also like how there’s a score that goes up as you add more items and complete furniture collections. However I personally found the controls for placing a moving things a little wonkier than in Home Street and FreePlay, i.e. I kept moving things on accident or couldn’t get things to easily snap where I wanted them to, and the collections and goals did make me feel a little confined to selecting certain objects or adding things I didn’t need to fulfill the goals rather than going with my own style, although I suppose you could just ignore the goals if you wanted to)

🦙 Gameplay: 7/10 (This game is fun although it can get quite repetitive since one of the main things you’ll be doing is “events,” which mostly involves just tapping things or waiting a certain amount of time for the tasks to complete themselves. The “events” in this game kind of reminded me of the tasks in the Kim Kardashian game which I also played years ago lol. However there are things to do besides events and the events do have a little more to them than just tapping; when I say tapping I mean tapping task options that sometimes have quirky, funny names and there are also “risky” tasks that have bigger rewards but a certain chance of succeeding or failing etc. There are little bits of dialogue as you progress through your career, relationship and hobby chapters and there are also seasonal/limited time activities you can do that add more fun and variety and chances for rewards. However I still wish there was a little more variety and flare to the “events” aspect, which made up the bulk of my playtime)

🦙 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 4/4 (Like in Home Street, there is waiting involved if you’re waiting for events to complete and you run out of energy to do the tasks that speed them up, but you can choose whether to have a longer event or a shorter event and you can also have one sim be running an event while doing something else with the other sim. I was able to choose shorter event times if I wanted to stick around for a bit and then run a longer event when I was logging off for a while so I could reap the rewards when I came back. The amount of time you can spend playing continuously here is much better than a lot of other mobile games that involve an energy system)

🦙 Total: 18/22

3. Virtual Families 3

Developer: LDW Software, LLC

Release Date: Sept. 17, 2020

(Note: Please disregard how barren my home looks here, this was the last game I started playing so I didn’t progress very far but I feel I can still base my scores on what I’ve played so far and what I can see available that I just haven’t unlocked/can’t afford yet)

The Virtual Families games are all pretty similar to each other to be honest, but the most recent version is definitely the most fleshed out and the least ugly. There are more things to do, more variety in the sim designs (here they’re called “adoptees”) and there are actually nonwhite characters which I’m pretty sure there weren’t any or were barely any in the last two games. You still can’t customize your adoptees though, just flip through the options to pick the ones you like the most.

I kind of struggled with the Virtual Families games because they run on real time and my adoptees would end up severely neglected when I just didn’t have time to play, but there is an option to pause when you’re away, I just didn’t want to and wanted the game to progress naturally.

What I do really like about Virtual Families is that the adoptees have minds of their own and you can kind of watch them lives their lives and imagine little personalities for them. It’s a lot more casual than the other games and you probably have the most freedom here to do whatever you want although there are not as many things to do.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Character Design: 2/4 (You can’t customize your own characters but there’s more variety here in the randomized designs and the art isn’t as ugly and janky as in the previous two Virtual Families games)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Home Design: 2/4 (Home design isn’t as big of a thing in the Virtual Families games but there is a decent variety in furniture and objects to put in your house and you could probably have some fun with it if you’re creative. The art style isn’t that great though)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 Gameplay: 7/10 (Like I said, what I like is watching the little adoptees go about their lives or dropping them around to pick up the debris on the floor to look for collectibles. In this game there are also a lot of little funny random events like getting random phone calls or being given random choices to make that can have positive or negative outcomes. Occasionally you’ll be given problems to solve like needing to repair or hire someone to repair something, or once I lost the TV remote and had to look around my house for it then send someone to retrieve it. It makes the experience more varied and engaging and makes you feel more involved in progressing)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (You can pretty much play indefinitely watching your adoptees except that can get boring especially if they’re just eating or sleeping. My adoptees kept getting really tired and I would just send them to sleep and exit out, then when I came back they would be out of bed and still extremely tired lol. But once they did get enough sleep I got to spend more time with them until they had to do something else boring like work or eat)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Total: 14/22

4. The Sims Freeplay

Developer: Electronic Arts

Release Date: Dec. 15, 2011

This game was pretty disappointing when I played it years and years ago hoping to be able to play the Sims while on the go, and it’s still pretty disappointing now even though I have more understanding of why they can’t put the actual full Sims game on my phone, especially not for free.

The most disappointing thing about this game is not just the long wait times, which are annoying on their own, but the constant ads that pop up any time you do a task that’s more than like 3 minutes. Some of these ads aren’t even skippable. This made it pretty much unplayable for me up to a point, until I figured out how to strategize to do the shortest tasks possible, and until a limited time special event thing came up that gave me something else to do without having to constantly wait or dodge ads.

That being said, this game does have the unique charm of being a lot more similar to the classic Sims computer games, with a similar art style and even the same or similar music and sound effects. If you have patience (or if you pay to play) I can see this being a lot more satisfying and I’ve seen people do really cool things on this game as far as building storylines around their sims and building really impressive houses. But I don’t think this game really works as a casual free-to-play game, it’s much too frustrating and monotonous for the average player.

💚 Character Design: 2/4 (limited options for facial features and not as many options for clothing as The Sims Mobile, plus the low-poly look is not very appealing; I know it’s an older game but since it’s still being maintained I’d think they would have upgraded it a little and added more variety over the last 10 years)

💚 Home Design: 4/4 (editing your home in this game feels a lot like in the Sims 3 and like I said I’ve seen people build awesome mansions in this game so I think this is definitely one of the best aspects of the game)

💚 Gameplay: 5/10 (I was going to give it a worse score given the insufferable, unskippable pop-up ads but I did give it credit for the limited time/seasonal events which are easier to play uninterrupted and add some variety to the game, at least the one I played did. I was able to find this game somewhat tolerable also by only doing the shortest tasks possible to avoid ads and then exiting out whenever an ad popped so I could just come back a little later, although the need to do that was also annoying in itself)

(Note/Edit: A very nice anon pointed out that you can avoid ads in games that don’t need a constant internet connection by turning off your wifi/internet while playing, and this seemed to work with FreePlay as long as you are connected to the main game before you turn off internet! You won’t be able to do everything in the game but you can still play in the main world with your Sims in their houses and do longer tasks without getting an ad pop-up if you temporarily disable internet on your device. I’m not going to fully change the score and ranking since I don’t think that’s how the game was intended to be played and needing to turn off wifi to play is kind of inconvenience in itself but the game definitely is definitely more like a 6/10 or 7/10 if you do this.)

💚 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (Absolutely would have given it a 1/4 but the event saved it from that, you can play for longer stretches of time when there’s an event, but of course that only applies to playing the event and not the main game)

💚 Total: 13/22

5. Virtual Families 2

Developer: LDW Software, LLC

Release Date: Dec. 6, 2012

All of the Virtual Families games are pretty similar overall so I won’t go into a lot of detail for these last two but basically Virtual Families 2 has more variety in things to do than the first Virtual Families, especially in terms of home design and things to unlock throughout the game. It also has a slight visuals upgrade, although the character designs are still pretty janky for something that came out in the 2010s imo.

Also this game has a bug where if you do something the tutorial was supposed to teach you before the tutorial is over, you’re forever stuck in tutorial mode unless you completely start over, just a heads up.

👨‍👩‍👧 Character Design: 1/4 (While the janky character designs do kind of give it a retro charm for me this game really didn’t come out all THAT long ago and the designs and animations are pretty wonky. I know Last Day of Work/LDW isn’t an enormous company like EA or anything but from what I understand they had relatively good amount of success in the early casual mobile games sphere, and since this is a sequel I’d expect a little more of a visuals upgrade than this but that’s just me)

👨‍👩‍👧 Home Design: 2/4 (Same deal as Virtual Families 3, more furniture options and opportunity to expand your home but art style is lacking and doesn’t feel like a central aspect of the game)

👨‍👩‍👧 Gameplay: 6/10 (Just a little less varied than VF3 and a little more than VF1)

👨‍👩‍👧 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (Same exact deal as VF3)

👨‍👩‍👧 Total: 12/22

6. Virtual Families Lite

Developer: LDW Software, LLC

Release Date: June 3, 2009

Phew, you know a game is old when it has “Lite” in the title. This is one of the first smartphone games I EVER played (though when I first played it I didn’t have a smartphone, just a 1st gen iPod Touch); in fact, I’m not 100% sure, but this might actually be the first smartphone game I ever played, and I do remember it fondly. I want to make it clear that I’m rating it now on the experience of playing it today in 2021 relative to the other mobile games I’ve played and reviewed, being that the purpose of this blog is to hopefully give people an idea of what games they’d like to play, and hyping up a 12-year-old game as though it holds up more than it does for nostalgia’s sake doesn’t fulfill that purpose imo.

That said, this game does hold up fairly well, but definitely pales in comparison to its sequels and other options now available. This game is still worth playing if all you want is to have a little virtual family to check in on from time to time and don’t really want to do much else. Otherwise it doesn’t offer anything that its sequels doesn’t save for its nostalgic charm and uniquely terrifying art style.

👩‍👦Character Design: 1/4 (Same as VF2 but uglier)

👩‍👦Home Design: 1/4 (The house already has everything in it and you can’t rearrange anything, which is convenient but boring. You can upgrade your work stations though)

👩‍👦Gameplay: 5/10 (Same as VF2 but a little less variety)

👩‍👦 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (Same deal as the other two, although watching your family is arguably more boring when there are less things to do, but it’s also more convenient when you already have all the furniture and appliances you need right off the bat so it balances)

👩‍👦Total: 10/22

If you got here to the end, even if you just skimmed through, thank you so much for reading 😍 Follow me for more mobile game reviews, articles and commentary 🥳

[themangolorian]

As You Wish | Chapter One

Prologue

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Bodyguard AU as promised! The Mandalorian is hired as the bodyguard for the leader of an underground movement meant to undermine the last remaining vestiges of the Empire still intent on plunging the galaxy into darkness. With stakes and tensions this high, what could possibly go wrong?

a/n: I’m sorry I take so long to update, but I wanted to make this as perfect as possible for you all, and I hope I at least came close with this. Special thanks to @rosetophighlander for being there at any and all hours of the day to lament the process with me and offer the most supportive words! Please enjoy! 💕💜❤️

“Here’s the protocol we’ve outlined for your routine day-to-day. You’ll be alerted when she’s awoken and thirty minutes prior to her departing her chambers which should give you sufficient time to get ready. Here are the times for first meal, second and then supper. Of course her schedule changes week to week but you’ll be provided a detailed agenda at the start of each week so you can prepare any additional security measures you deem necessary. Against my wishes and the better wishes of the council, she insists on continuing her weekly excursion into the town market, during which you are not to leave her side. As you can see here, once this briefing is over, you’ll be accompanying her to her daily training session.”

Veru seemed to say this all in one breath and you marveled at her lung capacity at the same time that you blanched at her last statement. A small, teasing self-satisfied smile graced her face as she looked your way.

“You can’t be serious, Veru.” It was hard to keep the frustration out of your voice when everyone insisted you were the leader, but your simplest wishes were continually ignored.

Veru only looked amused. She’d given in, you knew, by allowing you to continue going to the market. Which meant you had to accept all her other terms. That didn’t mean you couldn’t argue.

“I’ll be with Selk. He’s practically head of security.”

Your eyes found the Mandalorian’s visor where he sat attentively across from Veru, seemingly taking this all in stride. It wasn’t that you minded the Mandalorian’s presence. He was quiet, polite. There was something almost peaceful about him. What you didn’t need was another audience member to your humiliating training sessions with Selk.

Within days of Bemku’s death, Veru had commissioned Selk, a security specialist, to train you in the art of defense. You knew how to shoot a blaster as well as the finer points of hand to hand combat. But Veru was convinced Selk’s particular skills might eventually be the difference between your life and death.

You’d barely improved from the start, and you had the bruises to prove it. Selk was patient, and it wasn’t his fault that your ego was more bruised than your body. The Mandalorian’s presence at these sessions, on top of the rest, would be mortifying.

Which was why you were fuming at the sound of his footsteps echoing in the long empty hallway behind you as you made your way to the training rooms. He seemed to sense your irritation and kept a further distance than normal. It wasn’t his fault either but sometimes you couldn’t help your temper; Bemku used to say it was your worst quality. The sad ghost of a smile crossed your lips.

A slight breeze broke you from your reverie, and now you noticed the Mandalorian skirting around you to reach the door first. Attentive as ever, your bodyguard flashed the ID card that would open the door to the training rooms for you. Despite everything, you had to admit Veru had done an outstanding job improving security on base.

You gestured towards the far corner of the large training chamber where mats were piled haphazardly high. From there he would have the worst possible view. “Please wait there for me.” An order instead of a request. Because you were sick of being argued with.

The Mandalorian paused in the doorway, watching you in a manner you could only construe as knowing. For a brief moment, you feared he’d defy you. Instead he tilted his helmet in a nod.

“As you wish.” His modulator hummed.

You stared after his retreating form, your cheeks growing warm though you could not say why.

“Adena,” Selk called warmly in greeting as he crossed the enclosure from the direction of the changing rooms. Adena. Leader. Bemku had adopted the nickname as a teasing joke, then it had become an endearment; soon everyone had taken to calling you the name, though Bemku had been more in charge than you. Now that he was gone, everyone seemed to think the name that much more meaningful. You no less than anyone else, but it was a heavy burden to shoulder.

Selk approached you energetically, though he threw one cautious look over his shoulder at your bodyguard who had opted to lean against the mirrored wall, hands at his belt. “A Mandalorian?” Selk asked under his breath and there was something akin to distrust in his tone.

“Selk,” you tried to greet him as warmly as he’d greeted you, but the tension you nearly always felt was slow to leave your body.

The warm up was comforting because it was routine and not easily messed up. But when Selk started you on your drills, you knew you looked like you didn’t know what you were doing. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander over towards your bodyguard. You couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or curse that you could not see where his gaze was pointed behind the dark glazed helmet.

“Focus, adena,” Selk reminded you with a coy grin.

He was attempting to show you a move that required you to use your own momentum during a fight to partially incapacitate your opponent. But the move required you to somehow twist Selk’s arm so he would be brought to his knees. And you couldn’t seem to nail the movement. Selk kept catching you when you ended up being the only one falling.

Selk’s eyes danced, not with mirth, but something else. You knew he was keen. Had been for some time. He was handsome assuredly. And nice enough. But you had no time for that.

You grunted when you collapsed to your knees after Selk quickly disengaged your attack, twisting your own arm, much gentler than anyone would in a real attack, as a countermeasure.

“If you reversed the arm you’re using, you’d fare better.”

You startled and stared with wide eyes at your bodyguard who had approached from his distance across the large room.

Selk look surprised at first, then irritated, his cheeks growing pink.

“You’re not authorized to train here.” Selk took a step forward so he was between you and the Mandalorian.

The bodyguard merely stared Selk’s way, said nothing, then turned to you. “You favor the right, not the left. That’s the one you should use to twist his arm.”

Straightforward words, casually delivered. Then he was leaning against the wall again, much closer than before. You noted he did not return to the corner you’d asked him to to begin with.

“Thank you,” you nodded his way, still trying to catch your breath after that last drill. The tilt of his helmet was almost imperceptible but for the way the light above reflected on it now just slightly to the left.

Selk was still glowering at the Mandalorian. He switched up the drill so you would not be given a chance to try the bodyguard’s suggested technique. Somehow, instinct told you the Mandalorian had been right.

When training ended, Selk gave you a warm farewell but glared the bodyguard out of the room, though the latter seemed not to even notice.

Later, at supper, the Mandalorian sat across from you. But he did not eat. He took his meals separately while you were in meetings or not at all. You’d grown so used to how quiet he was. It was a relief really. All day, at any given moment, you were surrounded by advisors, by others. All clamoring to make their opinion heard or to get yours. He, on the other hand, was so quiet. The silence was peaceful, calm. Serene even.

“What else could I do differently?” You blurted out almost by accident. You’d been thinking on his words at your training session for a good part of the day and had finally built the courage to ask, though you’d meant to change your mind at the last second. Yes, he was your bodyguard, but he was still intimidating. And you weren’t used to being intimidated.

He didn’t move at first. Then, a slight lean forward. And he brought one gloved hand to rest on the table. “Your feet.” His gruff voice started. “You should plant them shoulder length apart, not side by side. The strength you need isn’t in your arms alone. If you use the leverage of your whole body, you should be able to incapacitate even those much larger than you.”

“Like you?” You blurted out again, and your eyes dipped in shyness, and you felt your cheeks go warm. You’d meant it as a joke; his enthusiasm for your question had made you giddy in a way you couldn’t explain.

But then- “Yes,” and there was a warm undertone within his voice and you thought he might have been smiling a little. “And…” He paused, his hand ticking up off the table, almost as if asking permission to continue, as if he’d been unsure you wanted him to keep going.

“Please,” you nodded, bringing your tea to your lips as you watched his visor.

“You should bring your left hand down at the same moment you grab his arm. So the movement will flow more naturally.” He attempted to mimic the movements at the same time, a twist of his right hand, and a punch forward with his left. You understood at once.

From across the room, in you periphery, you saw Selk glaring at your armored guard.

That night, you practiced the move alone in your room, reversed as the Mandalorian had suggested, the separate arm movements almost simultaneously performed.

The next day you were scheduled to go shopping in the local market. It was the one routine you’d had for as long as you could remember that Veru had allowed you to keep, on the condition that your bodyguard accompany you at all times. You didn’t mind the company.

By midday, you’d gathered all that you’d needed. The crowd had stared at the Mandalorian towering over your shoulder. Whispers about his armor permeated the air, and you suddenly wondered if it had been a good idea to broadcast his presence here.

A hiss and a bang interrupted your thoughts suddenly. Then- three figures emerged from the shadows of a hut you’d thought long abandoned near the edge of the small town. A blaster shot sounded immediately from behind you at the same time that a hand was roughly grabbing you and pulling you. You struggled for a second before you realized it was the Mandalorian who had already incapacitated one of the attackers. But then you were both being tackled by the third. Using his momentum in the fall, the Mandalorian shoved you mid-fall to the side, giving him room to take on the perpetrator. His blaster had fallen useless to the ground.

You surged forward to snatch the blaster up and use it against these men when you were suddenly being pushed roughly back to the ground. But you used your own momentum to tumble backwards and awkwardly to your feet, but at least you were standing. The remaining attacker approached you viciously as if meaning to pick you up and carry you off. Without thinking, you performed the movement you’d spent half the night practicing alone. The attacker must’ve thought you were helpless because the sharp twist of his arm brought him to his knees. At the same time, you were using your right hand, as the Mandalorian had suggested, to jab the man in the throat. He keeled over and you backed away, wondering whether you should run. But then- two more blaster shots and both of the remaining men also lay incapacitated on the ground.

You didn’t get a chance to catch your breath before the Mandalorian was rushing you back to base, his arm tight around your shoulder, his blaster pointed out as if anticipating another attack. He somehow managed to hustle you back as quickly as possible while shielding you by curving his body around yours as you ran. He’d managed to communicate with your security forces as he ran, presumably through his helmet, and you passed a battalion of men running to apprehend the perpetrators.

Veru was shaking when she met you at the secured entrance of the work quarters and took you into her arms.

“I’m alright,” you said, and you were glad your voice was steady. You really were alright. You’d been caught off guard, but the Mandalorian’s quick work combined with your ability to fend off one attacker successfully had left you calm more than anything.

“Thank you,” Veru’s voice was high-pitched as she threw the sentiment your bodyguard’s way, and you were glad she suppressed her instinct no doubt to hug him in thanks.

All three of your attackers had been killed, so there was no one left to question, but security would be investigating their persons and searching for their ship. Veru insisted a medic tend to you, though it was determined you were completely fine. You were not even shaken up. Then she finally allowed you to bed with the promise that you would be briefed first thing in the morning on the assailants.

It was a relief to be alone once again with the Mandalorian as you both walked the long hallways of the base back to your quarters. Neither of you spoke at first. Then-

“You did well.” His tone told you he’d been unsure he should say anything, but he sounded glad at the same time, almost proud.

You smiled sideways at him. “Thanks to you.”

He hummed under the helmet, and you took the sound as one of contentment.

“So did you,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. And he had. Three grown men who had clearly been well trained. And he’d incapacitated them all within seconds. Veru had chosen well.

He paused and briefly you wondered if he was used to receiving praise because he only made a throat-clearing sound in response and waved his hand midair almost dismissively before-

“All the other drills…” He trailed off as if thinking of the right way to give his thoughts. “You can learn them too. But you need to adjust each one to fit your stature and strength.”

You mulled over the words as you approached the door to your chambers, outside of which he would leave you.

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” You finally said.

He paused, almost as if unsure and you realized your mistake a beat later. Of course he had to come as soon as you were ready to leave your chambers; that was the drill. He spoke before you could correct your error.  “I might be free.”

Your cheeks were still warm with embarrassment, but your lips broke into a smile. Then you laughed. The sound surprised you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed.

“Will you accompany me to the training rooms after first meal?” You knew he was obligated to but considering your tantrum about it the last time, you wanted to ensure he knew you welcomed him this time.

He tilted his helmet. “As you wish.”

As he turned to go and you closed your door, the three words brought yet another pleasant flush to your cheeks.

Early the next morning, the doors to the training room hissed open revealing it to be empty. The Mandalorian followed you in slowly, glanced your way, then began walking towards the far corner.

“Wait-“ You called after him.

He turned to watch you, a question somehow clear in the tilt of his visor.

“Will you-“ Your cheeks warmed yet again as the gaze you’d somehow still not grown used to pierced your way. And you considered for the first time that he might not be open to your request. “Will you train me?”

He took a tentative step your way; if you didn’t know any better you would think he was pleased. You held your breath as you waited for him to say the three words you’d hoped he might. He didn’t disappoint.

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[sayonaramidnight]

Not much time passed since their joint exploration of Tam-Tara Deepcroft, but to Arianna it felt like eternity. And like a moment, at the same time. Too long. Too short. Perhaps time was playing tricks on her, or perhaps it was all in her head.

Watching her sister make miracles with that grimoire of hers was indeed astonishing - through her time away from Eorzea, Seawalker had turned into an actual adventurer who could predict her opponents' moves and always be one step ahead of them. Good for her, sure. But everything that had happened later... Arianna only heard stories. Rumours about the Lord of the Inferno risen from the flames to answer the prayers of his worshippers. She had not been there, not seen the woman called Helvi Seawalker slay the alleged god of Amal'jaa, so when they had reunited, all she could do was look closely at the new godslayer in search for any proof. Any sign. Any change.

She had found no such thing.

Except... When asked about adventuring, Seawalker had given her a confused look. "There are more than one way to make people's lives better," she'd said, "Why should I stick to one, if I can do more?"

On what 'more' was, she had not elaborated.

-

Today, though, was almost like old times. The two spent a lovely morning at the household of Swiftfingers' parents, exchanging gossip over the plate of almond cream delicious croissants - albeit Master Zezemuchi's tale about Arianna's involvement with the Sunsilk Tapestries might have been a tad embellished. And even though the third sister wasn't there anymore, in a way she still was - in spirit and fond memories - so the Thanalan Tinies could reunite one more time...

And somewhere along the way from the Steps of Nald to the Sapphire Avenue, it got so easy to believe Seawalker had never left. She stormed the market, ransacking the jewellery and metallurgy stalls for high quality materials and chatting with the merchants about the craftwork she had seen overseas. It was fun - and relieving - to see her that happy and giddy about her old trade.

It was no fun, though, to see her go completely broke.

"You know, it wouldn't do you any harm if you haggled a little," Arianna shook her head, "Those people ain't dependent solely on you and won't get famished if you don't overpay them".

But the Roegadyn didn't take her words to heart, deeply convinced the merchants of Ul'dah deserve all her gil. She approached Arianna with a wide grin and a different earring in each hand. "Truly, you are an Immortal Flame," she said fondly, "Bright. Undying. We need to think of a fine set of jewellery that would fit your uniform".

"We need, you say as if you're going to consider my opinion," the Duskwight snorted, "Good to see you back in your element, though. Now that you've rejoined the Goldsmiths' Guild, are you planning to stay in Ul'dah? Or go back to Mist, so your aunt can keep her eyes on you?"

"Neither my aunt, nor the glorious sea can keep me far from my Rinoire and the memories of Zezelyn," her sister laughed and spread her arms, as if she wanted to embrace the whole city, "Not that I haven't got any other options since the Grand Companies invited me to join them, so if I ever change my mind, I-"

Right. That was the other thing Arianna heard about recently. Not a rumour, but a true story confirmed by General Aldynn himself. If it wasn't for the reverence she had for him, he would have been given a piece of her mind and not in a kind way.

"Bloody hells, Seawalker, don't tell me you're considering it. You're no soldier." There was no ill will in these words, just the truth - not because she lacked the required skills, but because she did things in her own pace, which did not go well with taking orders. Not to mention her calling was making things, rather than killing people.

"I know, I know. Which is why I kindly told them to sod off".

"No, you didn't".

"No, I didn't. I gave them my thanks and expressed my concern it would spread discord between them," Seawalker kept smiling playfully, as she continued investigating the jewels and metals in a truly scientific manner.

"Nice try, but they ain't gonna stop asking," Arianna followed her, still concerned, "Unless the Scions claim exclusive rights for you".

"They haven't yet, but it is another good reason to stay in Ul'dah. In case they're in need of me, I won't be far".

"In need of you to do what?" the lancer clenched her fists, ready to defend her sister from the selfsame people who had sent her after Ifrit, "Craft a set of rings or slay another god?"

"Gods cannot be slain so easily. Not for good," the Roegadyn shrugged, giving a vibe of someone who knows everything about the topic, "And we- they suspect that other beast tribes might follow, that someone's been steering them from the shadow-"

"Rhalgr take them and all their suspicions," Arianna could not help but growl, already fed up with this conversation and unable to argue with that consummate do-gooder, "Why did it have to be you?!"

"And why did you stand at Carteneau?"

One question, one simple question made Arianna stifle a gasp. "That wasn't- That-" she stumbled and gritted her teeth. That was just another war, she was meaning to say, with no supernatural factors involved. But she could not utter a lie. There was Dalamud, after all. There was that bloody primal dragon.

Still, she could not contain a surge of anger. Who were they - those Scions or Archons, or whatever they called themselves - to bug her sister about problems too big for her and order her around? What if they were the ones who would turn her into a soldier? And right after her return to Eorzea, before she could even settle down?

"The thing is, I had a choice," she said finally and that was it, that was the whole point of her concern, "Did you?"

"How could I choose to turn my back on them?" the Roegadyn cried out, her voice both sad and irritated. Perhaps mostly sad. "Rinoire, you should see what a primal can do to people - not only to their worshippers, but to anyone around. Those people are... changed. Their minds, twisted forever... There's no way to reverse it, but there's a way to resist it I'm capable of".

"And you ain't the only one, right? Are they looking for more 'venturers with the sixth sense like yours? Or will they just- I don't know, turn you into a one-woman army and say that's enough?!"

The look Seawalker gave her was rueful but determined. The look of someone who cannot stand being useless and tries desperately to change it. As if she didn't know how much good she can to for the world without throwing herself into fight.

She leaned to whisper into Arianna's ear. "Let me tell you a secret," her voice was soft and gentle, easy to soothe anyone's anger. Perhaps even tame a primal.

But it could not fool Flame Sergeant Noirterel, who knew that precious, incorrigible woman all too well. "Oh yeah? Shoot".

"The stall behind you has some fine Nagxian silk".

"WHAT?!" Every concerned thought vanished from the Duskwight's head in an instant, when she turned around and rushed up to the stall in question, to get all the silk she could afford at the moment. On behalf of the Weavers' Guild, obviously; she would not buy any fabrics without showing them the bill.

-

"That- that wasn't fair," she said after what felt like a year, glaring at one overjoyed goldsmith, who was carrying two large bags of some suspicious stuff that might have been meant for crafting. She laughed triumphantly and said nothing.

"What are all those materials for? Got that many commissions already?" Arianna asked, intent on giving up on the previous conversation. That was not a topic for a shopping day, not when it could be deflected and forgotten way too easily.

"No, no, don't worry, no one's commissioned me yet," Seawalker said absent-mindedly, "With these, I'm going to craft fine gifts. A magic staff, maybe. A set of knuckles. Goggles that don't cover half of one's pretty face," she went on, completely preoccupied, "Perhaps a gemmed paperweight for Minfilia..."

Ah, those people again. Lovely. Perhaps she did not get along with them as well as she tried to show, if she wanted to bribe them with gifts.

"Finding the right design for Y'shtola is going to be the hardest task," she heaved a somewhat exaggerated sigh, "Something that complements her beauty and doesn't look too showy..."

Arianna sighed too, utterly defeated. "Just pick whatever and set it in a ring. It won't distract you from her face if it's on her finger."

"So it would seem like a bonding proposal? Perish the thought, I would not dare!" Seawalker shook her head, rocking back and forth on heels, "But you, dear sister! Jewellery for you will be no problem, as soon as I get the perfect gemstones I've got in mind!"

"If you say pink tourmalines, I swear I'll-"

"What? Why would I?" this time Seawalker seemed genuinely confused, "I was thinking star sapphires or maybe diamonds."

"The less expensive one. Or else you'll be broke in no time."

The Roegadyn pouted, clearly discontented with the companionship of an ignoramus who does not understand true art. However, her mood changed in a blink, when a new thought popped into her scattered mind.

"It sure would be nice to find some eyes of lightning, though," she flashed an impish grin, "They look almost pink in the right light, so if you wish-"

"No!"

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.III

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A third chapter for my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang with the wonderful @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

____________________________

It’s almost a month later that Geralt sees them and, despite himself, immediately thinks of Julian. 

He’s making his way through a crowded market early in the morning, trying to get to a tavern where he should be able to find the author of a contract he’d taken off the notice board, when his eyes catch upon a counter selling leather.   

Among the sheths and gloves, there is also riding tack and dog collars.

Geralt’s mind drifts to Asra and Lucio and he can’t help but think that the dyed purple leather of the wide collars would be a beautiful contrast to their winter-white fur. He knows that hunting dogs need special types of collars not to damage their necks, and the ones in front of him seem perfect.

It would be a nice way to thank him for the hospitality, Geralt thinks, Those dogs follow him everywhere.

And at the same time, somewhere deep in his mind, he knows that it’s an excuse to see Julian again, talk to him again. 

Which is, Geralt has to remind himself for what seems like the hundredth time in the last month, not something that he can indulge in.

Julian was simply a good host, it doesn’t mean that he wants to see the witcher again, even if he did talk to him like it didn’t matter who - what - Geralt is.

"I'm a hunter."

"A hunter with two swords behind his back and a silver medallion?"

"A monster hunter." 

"A monster hunter."

After so many years on the Path, Geralt has grown as immune to the hate as he was for illnesses but sometimes, when he would stumble across someone who would see at least a little past the witcher part of him, it was always harder to forget than the sneers and averted eyes, fear and disgust mixed in even proportions in them.

No, Geralt tells himself, almost aloud, No.

With an effort, he makes himself pass the stall without stopping. 

But in the evening, when the market is already closing and he has to pass through it again because he’s not familiar enough with the town to take a different route, the merchant is still there. He's getting ready to turn in for the day but the riding tack and the collars are still on the counter.

He must have noticed Geralt’s interest in the morning, for when the witcher passes by, he calls out to him and, before he knows it, Geralt finds himself standing in front of the stall. 

“What was it that caught your eye, Master Witcher?” the merchant asks with careful but practised curiosity of a salesman. “The dog collars?”

Reluctantly, Geralt nods.

This is a horrible idea, he tells himself.

“Ah!” the man smiles, following the witcher’s gaze and picking up one of the purple ones. “Exquisite, aren’t they? My daughter makes them. What kind of dog ya have?”

Geralt clears his throat, vaguely aware that he’s digging his own grave.

“Not mine,” he says in the end. “A-- friend’s.”

The merchant’s dark eyes light up with little sparks. 

“A present, then?” he asks.

“I suppose.”

The longer Geralt looks at the collar the merchant’s holding in his hand, the leather a beautiful, rich purple, the clearer it becomes that he’s not going to leave without it. The metal details, evenly spaced all around the middle of the collars, catch the light of the setting sun, almost hypnotising in their shine.

“It’s hunting dogs,” Geralt finally says, suppressing a sigh. “Two of them. Tall and slender, the bigger one can reach up to my chest with its nose.”

Maybe, he thinks, I can still get out of this because the collars are too small for dogs like this. He knows they're not but maybe the Gods themselves are going to preserve him from my own inability to think straight.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Master,” the merchant smiles, and Geralt’s last hope shatters. “These fit even the beast of a dog that my son has, so they will surely fit a hunting dog’s neck. Do you want them in different colours or both purple? There are some other colours under the counter, I can take them out to show you. Blue, red, maybe black?”

“Both purple,” Geralt says, accepting his defeat and reaching for his coin purse. “Identical, just like the dogs themselves.”

 ***

 “I’m going to give them to Arthur and we will be on our way,” Geralt tells Roach when they leave the town and turn towards Roggeven, where it will be easier to find their way to the mansion. “All I want is to thank him for his kindness, that is everything.”

Roach snorts at him, unimpressed by what they both know is a lie. 

“Well, it’s not going to be him that will come to open the gates, will it?” Geralt asks mockingly. “I will just give the collars to his majordomo and we will leave like we were never there. It’s a token of gratitude. Vesemir taught me that much.”

The mare just flicks an ear at him, uninterested and there is nothing Geralt can do but sigh and urge her into a faster gait with a whistle. 

Over the past weeks, he’d found himself thinking back on Julian a little more often than he would like to admit, even to himself. Especially to himself. 

Mostly because of a brush for Roach’s mane that he’d realised far too belatedly he’d taken from the stables in the mansion on accident. When he was packing the saddlebags before leaving, it was just there, right next to the riding tack, and he was still thinking about the stupid question he’d asked earlier to notice that it’s not his. 

When he’d finally realised, they were already three days away from the mansion. 

Well, yet another reason to return. Or so he tells himself. 

 ***

The road doesn't take long.

The mansion is only a two day ride away from Roggeven and, well, Geralt was meaning to head in that direction, anyway, the town and villages around the coast always generous with contracts this time of year. The warmer the water gets, the more monsters it seems to attract. 

But when he reaches the Duppa river, he turns east rather than west, and heads in the general direction of Gelibol, keeping close to the north bank. Soon enough, he’s in the town that had given him the nekker contract a month ago. 

The mansion is still a few hours away and the sun is starting to set, so, after a minute’s consideration, Geralt decides to stop for the night.

The town has two inns but he goes for the smaller one - the same one that he’d stayed at the last time. The quieter it is, the better. 

He can tell that he’s recognised as soon as he walks through the door but the innkeeper doesn’t say anything until later in the evening, when Geralt had already made himself somewhat comfortable in his rented room and has come downstairs for a drink. 

“Back so soon, Witcher?” the innkeeper asks, setting a tankard of ale in front of him. “Another nest of beasts somewhere?”

The inn is only now starting to fill up with guests and the dinner is just yet cooking, so it looks like the man has decided to pass time over a conversation. Strange, considering who Geralt is, but not so strange that it can be deemed alarming.

“Passing through,” the witcher says, taking a swig. The ale is just as watered-down as he remembers. “On my way to Gelibol.”

“Ah,” the man says with an understanding nod even though Geralt is sure that he had never been further than the croplands outside the town. “Not close.”

Geralt shrugs.

“Not far.”

He thinks about it for a few seconds but then decides that he’s not losing anything by asking. 

“The mansion a few hours away,” he starts, a little slow. “Who owns it?”

“Oh!” the innkeeper perks up like he’d been waiting for that question. “It’s a strange place, take my word on it, Witcher. There aren’t a lot of people from this village that go to those regions, mainly hunters and those that work on the croplands there, but some say that that mansion has been there ever since they could remember, some say that they’ve never seen it until about five or six years back.”

Geralt cocks a brow, indicating his interest and, when the innkeeper deliberately hesitates, rolls his eyes but throws another crown on the bartop. The man snatches it with a practised move and all of his attention is back on the witcher again. 

“And what about the owners?” Geralt asks, nothing in his voice to give him away. 

The innkeeper sets aside a tankard he’d been wiping and takes another one, shrugging with one shoulder. 

“I’ve only seen the mansion a couple of times with my own eyes but those who are in those regions more often say that they only see gardeners and stablemen working behind closed gates. On occasion they also see a man who they believe to be the owner,” he scoffs. “But from what I’ve heard, he’s way too young to own an estate like that, unless he’s Vizimir’s bastard son or someone. Cannot be older than twenty-five.”

An illegitimate prince? 

That would explain the size of the estate, Geralt thinks, And all the paintings, enormous beds and polished wood furniture. That would explain the giant garden and the stables with multiple horses. The way Julian dresses, those expensive silks that he wasn’t afraid of getting stained with blood when he was stitching the wounds on Geralt’s shoulder without pushing back the sleeves of his chemise. 

Suddenly, it all makes a little too much sense and Geralt is so taken aback by the thought that for a moment, he feels just as overwhelmed as he did that evening in the mansion, when Julian had invited him in. 

He could easily be Vizimir’s illegitimate son. The math is very simple. If Julian is twenty-five - and he cannot be older than that, by the looks of him - Vizimir had already been crowned king when he’d been born. 

How hard can it be for the king of Redania to send an illegitimate son away from prying eyes while still providing him with the comfort of what’s nearly a castle? Geralt had heard of monarchs that loved their illegitimate children just as much as they loved the heirs to the throne.

"Do you live here alone?"

"Depends on how you look at it. My majordomo lives here, in the mansion, and a little further into the garden, there is a house where the gardeners, the housekeepers and everyone else that works for me resides. So technically, no, I don't live here alone. But if you mean family, then yes."

Geralt shakes his head and makes himself concentrate on his ale. 

"What does an illegitimate prince want in these areas? Any major city is weeks away," he says.

The innkeeper shrugs and wipes his hands off on a dirty towel. 

"Who knows what's going on in the heads of the royalty?" he says. "It can be a summer house for all I know. But in this town, we all believe pretty much the same thing. No one has that kind of wealth unless they're close to politics."

Geralt hums, falling silent for a few seconds before asking:

“And you’ve never seen him in town?”

The innkeeper chuckles humorlessly. 

“What can someone that owns a mansion like that want from a place like this? I bet one room in that estate costs more than this entire town, twice.”

 ***

 After he leaves his place by the bar and makes his way up to his room, Geralt gets into bed as soon as he sheds his armour but finds himself unable to sleep. 

He knows he shouldn’t dwell on it, shouldn’t even really consider it an option, but the thought of Julian being a prince - legitimate or not - does not leave his mind. It doesn’t help just how much sense it makes. Geralt’s only seen interiors like that in castles, on those rare occasions that he’d set foot in them. 

But then again, all of those castles were nothing but displays of the monarch's wealth while as the mansion felt lived-in and loved. Like all the painting, all the sculptures and figures, all the velvet and silk had been hand-picked by Julian to accommodate to his own understanding of beauty. 

Geralt has never been the one to let any kinds of obsessive thoughts get the best of him but this one he just couldn’t seem to get out of his head. 

He’s not even sure he can make the rest of the way to the mansion in the morning. The idea of giving dog collars to someone who might be the son of Redania’s king suddenly sounds laughable. He’s probably got anything and everything he wants in that mansion and, surely, dog collars are included. 

But, well, Geralt’s already got them. He’s not going to carry them around in his saddlebags forever. 

The witcher curses under his breath, turning for what seems like the hundredth time of the night to try and finally settle in comfortably.

Making an effort over himself, he closes his eyes and clears his mind of any thoughts, sinking into meditation that will allow him to fall asleep peacefully. 

After all, he’s only going to give the collars to Arthur.