#and don't get me started on the paragraphs being their own elements thing)

[mirai-desu]

Eliza Scarlet's Outfits in Miss Scarlet & The Duke S1-3

A Visual Guide

Disclaimer: This is primarily based off of me going through my caps, and there's always a chance I have missed something and/or typoed.

I have lightened some of the caps, but I did not recolor them, so they might still appear darker to you depending on your device.

You'll also see that some outfits photograph/films differently in different lighting, etc.

And obviously I don't include every scene an outfit is worn in the collages; it's just examples, outside of the first and last appearance caps.

(also I didn't label some of episode stills because originally I was just uploading the original files, but then had to make them collages too when I ran out of room. And sorry William et al., I had to crop you out at times).

I also did not really keep track of when she changes up her ties or hats with outfits, but she doesn't really mix and match until S2.

Open the images in a new tab if on desktop to get the larger image to zoom in.

The first outfit we see Eliza in ever (1x01), and the bit used in the opening sequence

The outfit in some S1 keyart images, but most were her other main outfit

We don't get to see what this outfit looks like without the jacket and thus don't really get to see the blouse

Makes it into S2, but the last we see of it is in 2x01 when then it falls victim to the pigeon incident.

However its final appearance is in the HANDS scene (well technically right after), so it does go out in a blaze of glory

Seen in 1x01-4, 2x01

The black funeral dress (1x01)

Only worn in the two scenes in the cemetery

(again it gets to be part of an iconic Wiliza scene at least)

Seen in 1x01

The other blue outfit from S1

What she is wearing in the main S1 keyart and PBS DVD cover

We don't get to see what this outfit looks like without the jacket and thus don't really get to see the blouse. She does appear to be wearing a different blouse with it at times though (e.g. 1x06 is a different blouse from 1x01)

While she wears it in almost every episode of S1, she notably wears this almost the entirety of 1x06, making its last real appearance in the scene where she has William apologize to Moses.

It is also the outfit that she is wearing in all three of the photographs of adult!Eliza in the show (1x06, 2x03, 2x06), so its technical last appearance in 2x06

There's an edited version of this outfit that's red and used in other keyart (it is not the red outfit from 1x06)

Seen in all S1 episodes except 1x05; appears in photographs in 2x03 and 2x06 as well

A burgundy ensemble that's only worn twice, both times in S1

The burgundy skirt is possibly the same skirt that goes with the outfit that’s actually in all three seasons

First seen when she goes to find Clara Simms; she wears it through being released from Scotland Yard the next morning. This version she has a choker on.

In 1x02, she wears it with a cloak at the beginning of the episode, and that's its last appearance

Seen in 1x01, 1x02

The burgundy dress that Eliza says in 1x02 is her best dress, that she specially wears to catch William's eye

She first wears it in 1x02, to try to get William to give her a case

Its last appearance is in 2x06, when her and William were going to go to dinner together

Seen in 1x02, 1x03, 2x01, 2x06

The burgundy skirt outfit is the only one of her outfits to appear in all three seasons

We actually first see it without the jacket on (1x03), and we know what the blouses she wears with it look like

It's only outfit she wears in 1x05 ("Cell 99"), including without the jacket

She mixes and matches hats and ties with this outfit starting in 2x01, as well as sometimes has on a different blouse (likely the one that goes with the green outfit).

In S3, she does sometimes wear a navy blue cloak over it, like she does many of her outfits that season

Its last appearance has been 3x05, without the jacket on, drinking with Ivy

Seen in 1x03, 1x04, 1x05, 2x01, 2x04, 3x01, 3x02, 3x04, 3x05

The nightgown in 1x04

Also notably the only time Eliza's hair isn't in a bun (barring flashbacks to Young Eliza)

She's only in this for two connective scenes

Seen in 1x04

The actual Scarlet outfit

Only appears at the end of 1x06, when Eliza is in her office and William comes to take her to dinner

Seen in 1x06

The green outfit

First seen in 2x01, as Ivy is pinning the hem. We first see it without the jacket, and get a good look at the blouse she tends to wear with it. This blouse is also used with other outfits.

She first wears the whole outfit together in 2x02

Comparative to other outfits, she doesn't seem to switch up the hat (or blouse)

This outfit carries over into S3, with its last appearance in the scene at Arabella's house having tea at the end of 3x05

Seen in every S2 episode except 2x03; 3x01, 3x05

The burgundy and gray one with velvet trim

First appears in 2x01, in the pub with the guy from the Wentworth's shop

She seems to wear the same blouse as with the green outfit

It has a waistcoat, and we do see her several times without the jacket on

Its last appearance is in the flashback to her office in 3x03.

Seen in 2x01, 2x02, 2x04, 2x05; 3x03

Navy blue outfit with waistcoat

First seen in 2x02, when she goes looking for the insurance firm

We do see her several times without the jacket on

In S2 she wears it with a blouse that has a collar that's trying to mimic a men's double round collar (the style William wears)

Notably, this is the only outfit she wears in 2x03

This outfit makes a reappearance in 3x03, with a different and stripped blouse. It's the outfit she wears the whole episode (barring the flashback), and she only has the jacket on in her first and final scenes of the episode, plus the wool cloak.

In 3x05, it's back to the collared blouse, and last seen when Eliza and William talk after Crabtree's arrested

Seen in 2x02, 2x03, 2x04, 2x06, 3x01, 3x03, 3x05

The blue evening dress

First scene for Hattie's engagement party in 2x06, and she does not wear any adornment on it then

In 3x02, which is the second and last time that she wears it, she has pinned her mother's brooch to the middle of the neckline

Both instances of her wearing it, she also wears a small shawl/cape with velvet trim when she is outside

Its final appearance is when they go back inside of Arabella‘s restaurant after the brooch is stolen

Seen in 2x06, 3x02

Jacket with the brass buttons

Oddly enough, we first see her in this outfit in the S2 keyart, but it (and most of their clothing/whole image) has been edited to be red

It first appears in the show at the end of 3x01. First we see Eliza in the kitchen without the jacket on, and then in the next, and final scene of the episode in William's office with the jacket on

The blouse has some blue in it

She does occasionally have the thick wool cloak on with this, as well as an apron

Its last appearance is in the final scene of 3x06, at Nash's office

Seen 3x01, 3x02, 3x04, 3x05, 3x06

Blue outfit with the navy blue blouse

This is the outfit that she has on in the S3 keyart

Eliza first wears the skirt in 3x02 when she has to change after being pushed down, but she wears it with the lacy white blouse she usually wears with the green outfit (she's also in this blouse again when she bakes the cake with Ivy)

But she wears the usual combination later in the episode when she returns to Arabella's to speak with her

She also occasionally wears the wool cloak over it, as well as an apron

Its last appearance thus far has been when she and Moses go to see Solomon in 3x06

Seen in 3x02, 3x04, 3x05, 3x06

Bonus! Young Eliza

Same outfit in both flashbacks

It appears to be the same outfit in the photo on Henry/Eliza's wall (makes sense)

Seen in 1x01, and anytime there is a close up of the photograph (1x06 features last true close up of it)

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[canary-song]

Due to what little on-screen interactions we see between Noir Peter (Pete) and Peni in ITSV, it's no surprise that a lot of people have agreed upon the popular fanon of them being a sort of father-daughter duo (or, for those who subscribe a bit more to Pete being younger due to the comics, a sibling-like relationship). It's cute so I support it, but it got me thinking about the two in comparison to eachother, specifically in terms of corrupt systems and how they're handled in their stories. I think the two have a bit more a contrast than just the surface level stuff, so let's look into it!

(Essay + comic panel evidence beneath the cut)

From the very start of Peni's (unfortunately short) comics, she's shown as very resigned to her fate - when brought in to discuss her father and her future "career" in the SP//DR program, she's upfront and blunt; My father is dead, and I'm the only one who can replace him, so I will. It's a foregone conclusion, and one she doesn't shy away from.

Furthermore, even though we see how, throughout the comics, she's basically given no life beyond her work, and even her school hours are eaten into, she's told again and again that all of this cost means something.

She has to sacrifice everything, because there's no other choice. Her own Guardians, her Uncle Ben and Aunt May, work for the very organization that her father did, and persist to remind her of the importance of the job, even if they do try to remind her that she can't handle this alone. Very telling, when faced with threats to the multiverse, she briefly asks her Uncle Ben if she should stay with him, only for him to tell her to go.

Duty calls.

This isn't the point of this, but of course she joined Spider HQ and went along with what Miguel was telling her - she's grown up surrounded by very like-minded, sacrifice-willing adults. Of course she has to do this. What other option is there?

On the other end, Pete is quite the opposite of Peni's story. Yes, 100%, like all Spiderpeople, there's the element of responsibility, that looming recognition that not doing what you can gets people hurt, but while Peni's story is set up so that she's fighting for her system of authority, Pete is unsurprisingly against his. At any point that he can, even pre-spiderbite, he's picking fights and trying to fix things. He's so set in his beliefs and outspoken that he makes his own mentor question his actions, constantly in pursuit of a better world.

It's the responsibility of the people to give a shit, and Pete cares so much that it drives him a bit mad, I think.

Where Peni is told that this is the way things work, Pete is demanding that it change, asking questions. Peni was raised to accept her responsibility, whereas Pete was raised to fight against the expected status quo.

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THEIR RESPECTIVE BENS.

I'll try keeping this fragment of a thought short because we're already clocking in 6 paragraphs pre-edits and I need to feed the dogs their dinner soon, but the TLDR is that Uncle Ben is the last surviving legal Guardian of Peni, and though distant, he tries his best to support her while she's in the SP//DR program. Pete's Uncle Ben is, by no such surprise, dead, but specifically, he was a WWI veteran, decorated but guilty.

Uncle Ben is, in the Noir comics, yet another symbol of how doing what you're told can haunt you. He was very vocally against the war machine he was a part of, while Peni's Ben has known nothing else but his work.

This is how completely dead opposite they are in so many regards. They contrast eachother!! It's really interesting! Honestly, I could see Pete getting into an argument with Peni's Ben over how she's been treated, even if it probably wouldn't go well. He cares too much to keep his mouth shut, often.

[interact-proof]

Info Masterpost

Hi everyone, you may know me from around the IF community, probably primarily from here, but you may also be familiar with some projects I've worked on as an editor (the two most prominent being @bodycountgame and @nyehilismwriting's Project Hadea) or other things I've done around the place. Regardless, it's my intention to set up a place here to provide proof-reading and other editing services in order to help people in the IF community who may struggle with doing it themselves for whatever reason (be that due to time, or difficulty, or anything else).

What's on Offer?

We all know that being an interactive fiction author is a HUGE undertaking - we're our own planners, publicists, programmers and also editors a large amount of the time - and sometimes it can be a lot to grapple with. I also know from personally interacting with a lot of authors that editing in particular can feel intimidating for people who don't do it often, and lots of people feel like they don't get it right or don't trust their own judgement with it. That's a normal feeling for anyone inexperienced in a certain skill to go through, but also it turns out that luckily, the internet exists!

For a fee, I can hopefully take some of the stress out of the process by doing copy, line or developmental editing for you, or a combination of the three in some way, shape or form. This doesn't give me any control over your work, obviously, and any suggestions that I make will be just that, suggestions - though like any editor worth their salt, I'll always do my best to explain what I'm suggesting and why, so that you can hopefully make an informed decision about what you want to do about it.

See below the cut for more information, along with pricing and some basic FAQs. Thanks for reading!

So, how does it work?

Well, it's pretty simple, really - you reach out and talk to me about what you want edited, I'll let you know how many (if any) jobs are in my queue currently, we'll confirm what the price will be, and then you decide if you want to go ahead with contracting my services. If we agree to work together, you'll sit back and relax after finishing the exhausting writing process, or, if you're really a glutton for punishment, start writing something new, and I'll do the editing. Then I'll return it to you, and send you an invoice. Easy!

I'm not going to hover over your shoulder demanding certain changes be made or be offended if you disagree with me - that's not a good editor's function, in my personal opinion. What you choose to do with my editing suggestions afterwards is entirely up to you!

FAQs

What's the difference between copy editing, line editing and developmental editing?

Most people editing for themselves do all three different types of these at once, but they are actually three separate skillsets. Copy editing is another term for what's sometimes called proof-reading; basically, it's checking for spelling and grammar mistakes (including homophones and so forth) but not for other purely textual elements like ineffective word usage or weak sentence structures. Anything beyond basic grammatical correctness is covered by what's called line editing, which looks at some common things people worry about like overused words, weak metaphors or other imagery, and sentences or segments of the text that can possibly be written in a way to more effectively convey the message they're trying to get across.

Developmental editing is a whole other ballgame - this is the part that most often makes authors nervous, the act of considering the text in terms of the effectiveness of each paragraph and story beat, analysing which parts of the narrative and various character arcs are working and which aren't, and so forth. This is a type of editing that is heavy on critique, and very subjective: it's akin to the kind of feedback you might get from beta readers in many senses.

You don't have to want all three types of editing in order to contract my services for, say, just one, but developmental editing on its own will be by negotiation, and likely be an hourly fee rather than a per word cost. You also can't have line editing without copy editing, as it would be impossible to make sure it's effectively-written without making sure it's correct. (You can have copy editing without line editing, however.)

Do you accept works from people whose first language is something other than English?

Yes, this is not a mitigating factor for me. I've worked on some pieces by French- and Brazilian Portuguese-speaking authors before. My editing suggestions come with explanations of why I'm making them, so it should be clear even for ESL authors what I'm suggesting and for what reason. I'm not a translator (unless you're talking about from Akkadian or Sindarin), but as long as you're capable of having a conversation in English, we should be fine.

How should I format my files for you to work on? And how will I get them to you/receive them back?

The two most preferable options are either in a Word Document, or a GoogleDoc document, as these formats both allow me to highlight parts of the work and comment on it directly so that you can see my suggestions. Any other format will make the whole process difficult for both of us as it will require cross-referencing between your work and my responses.

It doesn't have to be formatted in any fancy way, though - as long as it's in the document and readable, even just via basic copy/paste from wherever else you write, that's fine.

We can exchange the files via email or discord, whichever makes you feel more comfortable.

Do you accept jobs unrelated to interactive fiction?

Yes! I've edited novels and short stories before as well, and done work specifically providing developmental editing on outlines so that authors can feel they have a well fleshed-out plan before they begin writing. It's just that there's not many editors out there who are familiar with the IF scene, so that's my marketing focus, so to speak.

You write using British spellings... do you know how to edit for American spellings, too?

Yes, I know how to edit for AusE and AmE as well as BrE. Many authors also use a combination of multiple spelling systems, which I can work with as long as you let me know your style and parameters.

My game is written in the style of Shakespeare... can you handle that?

Individual style, both affected and inherent, is not really a roadblock for most editors. The job of a good editor is to consider each author's personal style and make sure to respect it, rather than try to overwrite it with their own voice, so if you're writing a Tolkienian or Arthurian or epic poetry piece, I'm capable of working with that as long as you let me know what you're aiming for beforehand.

If you have a style guide with particular specifications, feel free to submit it along with your documents, and I'll abide by its specifications. I've worked on projects ranging from high fantasy to scifi to modern fiction in the past.

Can I break my writing up into multiple parts to give to you over time?

Sure! All of the interactive fiction work I've done thus far has been chapter-by-chapter, and you can break it down smaller if you like. However, I can't necessarily bring forward developmental editing concerns from one job into another at peak reliability, particularly if a long period of time has passed between the different jobs.

That's probably all for the FAQs for now - if you have any other questions, please feel free to reach out and ask!

Pricing

How much the editing will cost is based on the length of what you would like me to edit, split up into three length categories: under 10k words, 10k-100k words, and over 100k words. Prices are in AUD, Australian dollars. Per-word rates round up (ie., at a rate of 1c per 5 words, 6 words would incur the cost for 10 words).

Under 10,000 words

Copy editing: 1c per word.

Line editing: a flat $15 fee on top of the price of copy editing.

Developmental editing: a flat $20 fee on top of any other costs, or an hourly fee by negotiation if without the other two services.

10,000 to 100,000 words

Copy editing: 1c per word for the first 10,000 words, followed by 1c per each 3 words for the remainder.

Line editing: a flat $30 fee on top of the price of copy editing.

Developmental editing: a flat $80 fee on top of any other costs, or an hourly fee by negotiation if without the other two services.

Over 100,000 words

Copy editing: 1c per word for the first 10,000 words, followed by 1c per each 3 words for the remainder, plus a flat $20 fee for each 100k words after the first (ie., 150,000 words will incur a $20 fee on top of the per-word price, while 250,000 words will incur $40).

Line editing: a flat $40 fee on top of the price of copy editing, rising incrementally per 100k words after the first (ie., 150,000 words will incur a $40 fee, while 250,000 words will incur $80).

Developmental editing: a flat $80 fee on top of any other costs, rising incrementally per 100k words after the first (ie., 150,000 words will incur an $80 fee, while 250,000 words will incur $160), or an hourly fee by negotiation if without the other two services.

Code-checking

If you're able to include your code with your writing (such as by viewing a proofing copy of a game via twine), and provide me with an outline of your variables and what you're using them for, I can by request check for possible errors (such as adding to a stat when it seems like it should be subtracting instead, or using a wrong or misspelled variable) for a flat fee of $80 per 100,000 words (in this case, the code is included in the wordcount, since I'll be checking it).

Outline Help

If you want me to look over an outline or plan and provide developmental feedback before you begin writing, this can be done for an hourly fee by negotiation.

Thank you again for reading! Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions.

[the-clay-quarters]

Okay this took me three days bcus I spent Way too long thinking about it but! here's my guys in @t6fs' template!

The only bit of this that was left blank for non character reasons is the dreams- I avoid all the dream cards in game to avoid nightmares, so I don't really know the vibes oops. Oh, and the key items are distinctive things they carry regularly, excluding things they'd own at home. Otherwise, detail bits under the cut! I ended up with a lot of notes and wanted to ramble, it's really fuckin long <3

Silverstein

"His" pet is Pembroke's Half-Wild Mandrake (from bag a legend). They both agree that it is still hers, it's just hard to take care of in the middle of the city so it lives out with him. Otherwise, he keeps no pets.

Apathetic but also opinionated: On most things, he's very apathetic, simply agreeing with other people's decisions. On the other hand, though, he is strongly revolutionary and aiming for a lot of change... Not that he'd tell you that, not that you should know.

Dreams: It's canon that clay men can't dream :( No rights

Habitat: He likes being out and about, he spends most of his day out in the streets. He does a lot of "low skill" but high strength work, like moving services or construction.

Both hot/cold and coffee/tea are Neither for clay man reasons: Very high and cold temperatures cause him issues in different, equally annoying ways, and he can't eat/taste either, so no preference on food or drink.

Items: The gloves are clay stained, actually, and primarily on the inside. He started collecting first city coins for heart's desire and just has a habit of keeping some on him now. Horse head amulet... fear of death and uncertainty about the particulars of clay men :)

Flower, white rose: Did you know all the funky coloured roses (ie blue or rainbow) are made by dying white ones? :)c

Animal, saint bernard: Big but fairly gentle and lazy, would be a guard dog if asked but is mostly content to just sit

Element, rock slide: Change! Upheaval! Rocks :3

Pembroke:

The pet is her hunting dog, lovely lil thing <3 She doesn't keep many pets as she's a very busy person (and wouldn't want to put that on her poor housekeeper) but a good dog is always useful.

Rude-polite range is because she defaults to, and is usually, quite polite but often is also overcome with the need to be an absolute lil shit. Duality of man <3

Lodgings: Rooms above an ex-bookshop, now her tailoring shop!

Enemies: See: habit of being a chaotic lil shit. Apparently people don't like it when you think their party is too boring and try to spice it up smh

Items: A wedding ring with no match. A pocket watch to keep a tight schedule. A weapon of some sort, picked from a diverse collection. A travel sewing kit for rogue buttons and popped stitches. A hat pin, back up weapon :)

Flower, green dahlia: .......This one's mostly a pun off of Delia ngl

Animal, borzoi: Fancy and elegant looking, but still a hunting dog. Pretty but vicious~

Vincent:

The pet listed is a frost-moth but they have so. many. bugs. The phosphorescent scarabs are also pets. They have spiders. They keep any and every type of bug to either study or have as a pet. Please never visit their flat if you don't like bugs.

Gender: Bureaucratic misunderstanding. They filled out various forms wrong when they were first travelling to the neath, rolled with the neutral pronouns, realised they like it more than they probably should, and simply refused to think about that at all

Logic-emotion range is them trying to lead with logic but also having high anxiety

Lawful-chaotic and apathetic-opinionated are also anxiety, honestly. Though, for the latter, they are just quiet about their more out-there opinions, especially in the realm of politics. It's a culture thing kinda sorta, if I get into that here it'll add like 3 paragraphs at least.

Cultural identity: Catalan! Very proud of that! But won't default to that and will usually say they're Spanish. I can't get into that for the exact same reasons as the last point oops

Allies: This guy ☝ is depressed and isolating themself

Remember vs forget: When you're this far from home, your culture comes just from your own memories that you can't afford to lose. But also fuck wouldn't it be nice to simply forget the things causing you anxiety.

Items: Big round glasses to counter their shortsightedness. Bugs. Anti spider goggles that aren't prescription, both because they were originally lent and because they don't usually need to see very far with them on. Catholic rosary, worn under their shirt. Bugs. Surface currency, specifically Spanish pesetas, sent from their parents. Bugs. Bugs. More bugs.

Flower, forget me nots: Blue, anxiety coded, pretty <3

Animal, mantis: Awkward looking, vibes <3 Also, specifically hierodula papua bcus it's blue!

[mushr00mfriend]

hi!! i have a question about how you have the motivation to write? ive been trying to write my own slenderverse fic and sometimes i just find myself feeling so discouraged because the fandom isnt as active anymore, and i was wondering if youve ever felt that way and how you actively get the motivation to write?

Hello! This is a fantastic question; I'm going to preface my answer by saying that this is my own outlook/opinion as well as mindset, and that it may not work for everyone. Take what you need and leave what you don't.

(also, this got incredibly long. If there's anything I love to do, it's ramble- thus, a readmore)

For direct motivation, here's a few things I do to get in the groove:

- Chapter summaries. Write a paragraph (4-6 sentences) about what you want to see happen in a chapter. Character interactions, thematic elements, foreshadowing, plot movement, etc. Don't go over a paragraph, however, or you'll end up feeling like you've already written it without, you know, writing it. If there's something tasty, reference it rather than write it all out. You'll remember it each time you read the reference and it'll make you want to get it out in its entirety.

- Bounce around. Write some of the first chapter, some of the twentieth. Finish the sixth before the fourth. Don't feel like you have to write it in the order it's gonna be read in; you have all the power as the author to do whatever you want. If you want to write the ending before you've even got the beginning penned, do it.

- Make a list of 'delicious scenes'. These are scenes that are incredibly vivid in your mind, the ones that you really really want to see in your story. Write them down and think about them often. When you feel de-motivated, start on them. 

- In that vein, daydream about what's not being shown in a chapter, or imagine the characters in different situations. They're blorbo from your shows!! Play with them like dolls!! Make em kiss!

- Keep a project on the backburner. When I feel like I don't want to write for one project, I turn to another and work on that one for a bit instead. It keeps me from burning out entirely, but also keeps me writing, which is the most important thing.

You are correct in saying that the fandom isn't super active anymore. It was already simmering down when I had been working through the legacy draft of Delirium, and compared to the monolith it had once been, the community can seem nonexistent in this day and age. I definitely can relate to the discouragement you're feeling - I felt it all the way up until I was just under three-quarters of the way through Delirium, when there were enough consistent readers that I felt I had finally gotten somewhere, carved out my little niche of a community. Looking at the numbers now, you probably wouldn't believe that I suffered a lot with discouragement and de-motivation...

But I did, especially because I tied my self-worth and confidence in my story to how many views and comments it got. I still feel this, especially with other projects, and especially especially if they don't stack up to Delirium. If I were in the same mindset I was at the beginning, I'd even wonder if making Delusion was really a thing I should do, because there's definitely readers who won't be interested in it anymore.

But the thing is, I'm not making it for the readers. I'm making it for me. 

Delirium started out as an homage to the Creepypasta fics I read as a teen, and somewhere along the way became a way for me to vent my frustrations and trauma regarding my personal experiences with the fandom. The most important part of the story is why you're writing it- what are you trying to say? What are you trying to impart? Who are you trying to reach, and what are you trying to tell them?

You have to sit with yourself, and with the concept of the story in your head, and you have to know that you can't make it for anyone but yourself, because you are the most important part of it. You, your feelings about the setting, the characters, the themes and motifs. Your personal reflection of the situations, opinions about the arcs and plot. And yeah, not everyone will vibe with it, but making yourself palatable to everyone will make your work tasteless and unsatisfying. Even if you write for yourself, there will be other's who appreciate it. I promise. The Creepypasta community is diminished, but not gone. Take a scroll through the tags, follow a bunch of creators. There's still people drawing, people writing, and people reading. Your dash will fill up with others who still like it.

If there's one thing I can say right now, if there's one thing you take away from my words, it's that there isn't a number that will make you feel fulfilled. I promise you that the mental ceiling will only increase. You will not find a love for the story in the views, in the favourites, nor in the comments. You need to love the story first- you need to believe in it first. No one else can write the story you want to tell, and no one can write it the way you will.

I'd also say sit with it for a looooooong while. Like, figure out how it ends, find the major plot beats, bullet point the snippets you really want to see, write it halfway, sit on that for a month, then reread and edit it. Delirium is- I just checked it, over eight years in the making, including that legacy draft (which was more of a false start, if anything). You don't necessarily have to take that long- I'm just slow- but make sure you have 80% of it figured out before you go on and post it. If there's anything that kills motivation, it's internalized deadlines when you have no backlog to fall back on. Several of the months-long hiatus' between chapters were because of this. It's also the reason why Delusion isn't being published until next year.

Anyway, this got ramble-y, but I also want you to know that you got this!! I believe in you!! And if/when you ever publish it, please give me a link, I'd love to read it :]

[silvercap]

Do you have any tips for new writers?

Also is there a way to not get too caught up in engagement and stats? I'm kinda having this problem and it is taking the motivation out of things a bit 😭

That's a good question! This post got a little long, so I'm implementing a break lol

I don't exactly have specific rules, but I think my biggest tip for someone writing for the first time is to go easy on yourself and give yourself time to get better. I struggle a lot with perfectionism and the nasty habit of being harder on myself than anyone else ever will be, but it's important to acknowledge that we are our own worst critics and that improvement is only measurable by practicing through the early stuff. I encourage a lot of experimenting, especially when you're starting out--try new things and ways of writing and slowly collect the ones that work for you. I've taken plenty of classes on the logistics of writing and technical tips, but those aren't necessarily helpful for everyone to focus on when they're starting out. I think in first drafts and initial writing, it's better to write from whatever urge possesses you to do so and not get caught up in the technicalities. Those are often more helpful when editing, but it really depends on the way your brain works!

Over time, you'll start to build up a sense of flow and style and the general rhythm of writing engaging paragraphs, which brings me to my next point--reading. It's been said before, but I'll say it again: Reading is one of the best ways to develop a sense of rhythm and effective imagery/idiom/etc. I've also spent plenty of classes analyzing the effectiveness of (I forget the exact word) elements like metaphor or allegory or symbolism or anaphora or any other technical term you can think of that is commonly used to convey specific literary concepts. Reading, on its own, is a great tool for subconsciously noticing the flow of writing and getting a sense for it, but sometimes just taking notice of certain paragraphs that feel right to you or just hit in the right way can allow you to analyze them more deeply and find out what exactly it is about the words that works. Everyone has their own preferences! That might seem daunting, but often the best resources we as writers have is each other, and everyone is inspired by someone else at some point. I'm totally here to take asks and answer any questions I may have brought up because I'm rambling a little bit and like I said: technical aspects aren't necessarily helpful to focus on all at once, and I recommend trying one out at a time to see how it works for you. If that makes sense!

My biggest piece of advice is to have fun with it! Experiment. Put in that weird little thing you think nobody else will like, because often those are the best parts of writing. Do what you feel sounds right! Not to Wayne Gretzky you, but you can only get better or 'succeed' by trying it out and seeing where it takes you. We write because we have ideas we want to share or explore for ourselves, and trying to force yourself to write something you're not passionate about is rarely lucrative.

As for engagement and stats--now, that's a whole other beast. We all want to be noticed and appreciated and commented on, and it's hard sometimes to post a fic and have less engagement than you hoped, but I have a couple things I like to keep in mind for this. It's discouraging, for sure, but people on ao3 or similar sites don't always show their appreciation even if they read and liked your fic. The only way we can fix this as a collective community is to lead by example and comment/kudos/share the fics we read in the hopes that it will catch on and to spread the love to everyone else. I also find it helpful to think about the people who do leave kudos--even if there are only one or two of them--as not just random usernames, but actual living, breathing people who read your fic and enjoyed it. There's that post somewhere about ten likes not seeming like much in the scheme of social media and the influence that virality has had on the internet in recent years, but to have ten people standing in a room with you giving you a thumbs up? That's a lot of people. Even if you get very little engagement, that is not a reflection of you as a person or even necessarily your skill. I know that this can be draining, but the only way to try and build an audience is to post. Sometimes it takes a long time for fics to be noticed. Sometimes things fail. It's up to you how you want to take that, and I can't tell you any of this for certain. I just know from my personal experience that finding a community is only accomplishable by interacting and posting and sharing and existing, and often someone will come along when you don't expect it.

None of this is guaranteed. Hell, take everything I say with a critical eye and more than a few grains of salt, because this is only my experience and god am I still learning. These are things that help me, and I hope some of this is helpful to you, too! What I can tell you for certain is that I encourage you to write and pursue it as far as you want to, and even farther than that. It takes hard work. It can feel like nobody is listening. And ughhhhh the writer's block suuuuuucks. But, you're not alone in this. Anything you've felt is something another writer has felt before, and I think, at least, that there's comfort in knowing you're following in the footsteps of even the writers we consider to be great in both their success and flaws. Maybe I'm being a little lofty ahaha, but it comes down to whether or not you want to write. You can only decide how this goes, and it takes time to work through the barriers of both skill and the anxious fear of not being seen. I see you! And I'm here in the asks anytime you want :)

And even if you fail and give up--you're no less of a writer for it, because you tried, and I think that matters. The lovely thing about being alive and being writers is that we can change and grow, and there will always be a place for you among creators if you choose to join them, no matter how amateur you feel or how long you do it for.

[shivunin]

For the character meme, you know I gotta do Zevran but is it cheating to say Wen and Revka too??

hehehehe well it works out cus I wanted to do Zev c: I did my best with Wen, but I think it's a little fuzzy when she's mine.

(Character Ask thing)

Zevran:

First impression: Ohhhh this is the elf guy! The one everyone is always talking about! ...wait, hold up, I think I just killed him 😬 am I supposed to be able to do that???

Impression now: My fucked up assassin beloved. I have tried to romance others but I was always thinkin bout you. Also:

Favorite moment: "You don't want the earring, you don't get the earring." Lol. But actually, I think the moment during the confrontation with Taliesen where he chooses to defend the Warden is extremely well-written. There is such a genuine regret in his voice when he accepts that telling Taliesen no means that he will have to kill him, and it makes me wonder so much about what the two of them were like before.

Idea for a story: I have literally two whole pages in my fic idea book for Zev haha. But two favorites I haven't started yet are one where Wen is passing judgment as the Arlessa and he is just hanging out behind her throne (ostensibly as a bodyguard) making snarky remarks between hearings so she doesn't snap. Also, a time loop fic, but the concept is still vague (shhh don't look at me holding onto my "one half of the pair watches the other one die a bunch" trope again)

Unpopular opinion: this is technically an opinion on the fandom, and I think others have said it better, but the way people make Zev hypersexual all the time/the way people write and draw him a sex object makes me really uncomfortable. There is an element of the "sexy Latin lover" stereotype in his writing that I...don't think a large section of the fandom is really interested in unpacking or understanding. I think his relationship with sex is actually really fascinating and sad (I wrote my Salshira before I knew much about Zev, but the two of them have a lot in common with the way they feel about/act toward intimacy despite having very different backgrounds) but I don't think it's as clear-cut as "Zevran has a very high libido and constantly wants sex/wants to seduce people." (I wrote like....two more paragraphs of this but I will leave it there I think haha. I don't want to go too hard too early here and I have so many thoughts.)

Favorite relationship: Alistair? It's hard to choose because I think Zev has really interesting dialogue with most of them, but I especially enjoy the dynamic between Zev and Alistair. They have such drastically different views of the world and I think (biased because I always romance him but) Alistair's dialogue with him if the Warden is romancing Zev says a lot about both of them. I also enjoy Leliana and Zev (I like that she is just. not really here for his nonsense) but he and Alistair make me laugh more c:

Favorite headcanon: I feel like they all just flew out of my head. Oops. I do like the headcanon that Zev gives at least some of the others tattoos/he did some of his own tattoos. I think it could be a really interesting thing about reclaiming bodily autonomy for Zev to tattoo himself. Also that he's a bottle blond (but I'm weak for fanart of Zev w dark hair).

Arianwen:

First impression: I first knew who she was going to be when I played through the very beginning of the origin. She was covered in that poor girl's blood and I thought "oh I would snap. All these assholes are dead" and the rest is history!

Impression now: My sweet, murderous baby girl. She is allowed to kill whomever she wants, as a treat.

Favorite moment: Hmm I haven't posted it, but there's a moment when she wakes up with Zevran for the first time (well into their relationship) and she realizes that she...actually wants to live. That she likes being alive, and that she likes that he's a part of her life, and that she doesn't want to have already died anymore. And I think it's really lovely (especially when she continues to be like "But We Don't Have Time to Unpack All of That" for several months)

Idea for a story: Again, so many lol. My favorite unwritten one is her battle with Loghain, because I think choosing to fight him is a turning point for her.

Unpopular opinion: Uhhhhh.....I think by virtue of her being mine, all of my Wen opinions are popular opinions. I guess: it's fucked up that she can't write to her family and tell them she didn't die at Ostagar, because I think at minimum she would have told Shianni. Alas, I also like the idea of them holding a funeral for her, so it will just have to remain fucked up.

Favorite relationship: Torn bw her and Ali and her and Morrigan. Haven't shared any of the latter, but I like their "we are going to sit in complete silence and that is fine with both of us" early-game vibes. Wen misses Morrigan a lot when she takes off, and I think the intensity of the loss took her by surprise.

Favorite headcanon: It's all headcanon c: But I think she visits Soris a lot after he leaves the alienage and she is just the Cool Aunt to his many children. It's one of the few places she is only herself, not the Hero of Ferelden or the Arlessa or anything else. She teaches them how to pick locks and fight, of course, to Soris's chagrin (though he comes to admit it's practical in time)

Revka:

First impression: Oooh pretty! 👀

Impression now: I am holding her gently in my hands, absolute wife material, nobody talk to me

Favorite moment: Her tearing through the Circle Tower to find Ceral is *chef's kiss* one of my favorite tropes! I love how much she loves him.

Idea for a story: Wen and Rev begrudgingly trading off Warden-Commander duties. I think it would be funny and they could always try to bribe each other to get out of things, which offers an absolute wealth of story opportunities.

Unpopular opinion: hmmmm I feel like this doesn't apply?

Favorite relationship: I haven't seen much of her dynamic with the rest of the party, but I like the dynamic you've built between her and Ceral (and of course Wen and Revka's friends to lovers pining thing in our throuple au, but it felt like cheating to say so first c:)

Favorite headcanon: Secret bookshelf room with all her smut in Vigil's Keep. Secret smut library with nice comfy couch and nice convenient fireplace.

[bitegore]

🍄♻️🤔

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “_ + =__”

okay for the sake of my fucking sanity i am NOT going to presume I get any real wiggle room here. or i will do another 400 line proof. because it is fun but oh my god it takes so long.

((Felyx + Taran)(Rex + Haven + Taran) + fake dating)^spite = fireworks

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP(s)

not sure it qualifies as a "wip" because I haven't actually decided to pull it out of the graveyard of abandoned-works out-of-progress yet - call it a wip-aspirational or something lol - but the more I poke at Haven and Taran's actual story the more fun I have thinking about siccing Rex on the two of them. In like 2020 or 2021, so, a good while ago at this point and at a time I'd describe myself as "rusty" I started working on whatever the worst version of a meetcute is (ending in the equation above) lol. If I recall correctly my endgame then was that the three of them would fall into a stable orbit. I think that's kind of silly now. They're not that kind of people.

other scrapped idea, same story: Rex and Taran were meant to get along. That's not happening. It's a lot funnier if Rex and Haven (both deeply, deeply difficult people to get along with who hate accommodating for other people) can find a way to coexist pleasantly but Taran, resident NormalGuy who is extremely accustomed to unpleasant asshole bullshit, genuinely cannot get over Rex's various fuckeries beyond, like, the civility of "I recognize that you are living in my house now because the other person who lives here really likes you, and I don't want to have a screaming match in my own fucking kitchen." I tend to make Rex tolerable to speak to when I write him on his own because it's narratively difficult to use a protagonist who will just spit anything handed to him in someone else's face, but in this particular setup he is actively attempting to get Taran's genuine actual hatred on purpose because he's under the impression that's the goal and he's having fun with it also, so it lets me just make him a huge cunt asshole too which is more fun than having him show any scraps of humanity anyway :D

ok let me come up with something you have actual interest in lol

The Rex & Casey conversation fic I was working on ran into an unrecoverable roadblock (I decided the premise needed work) and has to be restarted in a different place with a slightly different version of Casey (tragic!), so one of the things I had to scrap to keep it rolling is Rex commenting on the color of the sky. It's really sad for me because I always think it's funny when you have a guy In a hell dimension like "damn... this place is weird.... the sky isn't bright red, it's eerie". But I can't justify The Story bringing Rex into The Real World as a Plot Element now that I know more about how it works, so I

......

Aha. Well. Actually. I can't justify Alan using The Story to bring Rex into The Real World, because I know how he works. Might have fixed my opinion on my own premise.

We'll see, I'll sleep on it. It needs to cook longer anyway. I also realized (aw2 spoilers) (for serious) (skip this paragraph now if you havent at least finished the first run of the game) if it happens in The Story In The Real World it's got to be situated between Saga's first time going through the loop with Alan and the Final Draft, but I still haven't found enough time to watch t full playthrough of Final Draft, so I'm sure when I hit Zane's part in there and then endgame I'll know a bit more about the direction I want to take.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet

Anything like that I have, either it's so busy being a concept I cannot write it yet, or I've started it just to make sure I won't forget it XD so it's hard to come up with. And most of the concepts are less "this is the kind of story I want to write", so much as "this is the kind of effect I want it to have". You know. I want to write something ~mind-bending~ or I want to ~do talking animals but cool~ or whatever.

A lot of words to say I'm drawing a huge blank on this question.

I think - and this is something I keep approaching with different stories but not leaning into, because, frankly, I'm the first line of concept-check for myself, and i get bored - I'd really like to try a story that works as one extended record-scratch. You start at the very end, in a scene that means basically nothing to anyone, and then in the events of reading the entire rest of the story you get more and more context until the very end of the book is the exact same scene as the first part, like, down to the description, and then it just loops infinitely. Something you could read spiral-binding style so it doesn't really have a "start" or an "end", just points between chapters with cardboard so you can close it anywhere, if it's a physical book. you know, some experimental shit.

Unfortunately I find time loops boring as hell to write. This would be ONE loop, so it'd maybe be better, but I'm still kind of burnt on being willing to touch another timeloop from how badly I did not enjoy the one I wrote for an exchange like two full calendar years ago. And also I do have other things to be doing.

That's also not a story! That's a plot structure! I might as well say I want to write The Hero's Journey for all it really tells you 😂 at my heart I'm a parodist, I'm going to need to see someone do it wrong and decide to do a better job than they did to really get a fire lit for an actual narrative here. I do love me some themes of insurmountable stupid bullshit you put yourself into on purpose because you decided you could surmount it and then discovered you couldn't, and some futile attempts at some stupid shit for retroactively-really-dumb reasons that weren't worth it, so it'll have that. as seasoning. because what is a permanent stable timeloop but one person committing suicide over and over? I'm only really able to approach the properly frozen-in-sequence ones as either Hand Of God (boring) or Sunk Cost Fallacy On Steroids (fun! interesting! miserable in a slightly unusual way!) so...

....well, it's going to have to keep simmering, because I like what I've got in the broth, but there's no meat in there yet, only spices. It would make a terrible meal right now. But it answers the question, I think.

[rindomness]

what do you like about Carlos? (jackdaw) ( grdhgfyg my questions are basic because I do not know much about wtnv but don’t mind being spoilt)

FAIR WARNING: this is, like, really long? it is five pages long and that's on 11pt Arial in google docs, where I had to copy and paste it so I could fix paragraph spacing so it would post. Also, I like, legit cried while writing this? So there is that also. like thank you for the blorbo talking enabling but also i do not know if you fully grasp what youve unleashed. idk if i fully know what youve unleashed

Because what don't I like about Carlos? He is my chief blorbo. He is the Guy I think the most about. I'm a little bit beyond just blorbo thoughts about him.

Okay let's break this down a little bit 'cause there's, to put it simply, a lot. Like, fifteen thousand words and counting of fic a lot? Also, I'm gonna be getting into, like, super recent stuff and also It Devours! here so just heads up on that

So. Carlos. Carlos shakes up the entire status quo, helps put the world back together, and becomes a critical element of Night Vale. That's on a narrative level. I'm gonna start with that because that's easier for me to talk about and also won't get me called out quite as quickly!

Carlos is a driving force in the narrative, in the world. Carlos shows up in town at the very start of the podcast, says he is here to study the most scientifically fascinating place in the U.S., and proceeds to uproot every single bit of Night Vale's centuries-long status quo. Carlos shows up and turns the entire universe on its head, at least in Night Vale. If I'm going to talk about how powerful, exactly, Carlos's impact is, I need to talk about Cecil. Of course I have to talk about Cecil.

Cecil announces, on live radio, that he fell in love with Carlos immediately. Cecil instantly attaches his attention to Carlos. I talked about this a little bit more in the Night Vale essay (over here) but Cecil is vital for the continued functioning of Night Vale. In mundane terms, Cecil on the radio serves as a giver of instructions and updates and ways to stay safe in this unbelievably dangerous town. In a less mundane sense, he's the Voice of Night Vale, which is an actual title, and sort of... represents his place as the center of Night Vale's community (which contains that more mundane element) and also as the center of this weird little pocket universe Night Vale is stuck in for the first five years at least. Because Huntokar loves Night Vale and Huntokar loves Cecil and Huntokar is a god and a god's love can be a dangerous thing.

But Cecil falls in love with Carlos. Carlos, who is a scientist, who deals in observation and acknowledgement and recording information and learning from it all. Things which Night Vale, a town with a very tenuous grip on its own reality, is innately allergic to. Night Vale is built upon the necessity of ignorance and denial for survival and continued existence. It depends on Cecil, the Voice of Night Vale, not changing, not growing, not looking, not for real. And he falls in love with a scientist, and he changes.

Narratively, it's absolutely insane how much power Carlos holds. Given the rules of the universe, Carlos is incredibly powerful. In Night Vale, perception is reality and acknowledgement becomes a threat to the powers that be. If it were anyone except Carlos, there is absolutely no way that any of the enforcement entities in town would let him get away with even a little bit of what he's able to. But Cecil loves him. I fully ascribe to the idea that Carlos's miraculous rescue and survival in One Year Later is because of Cecil, and Cecil refusing to accept that Carlos was dead. Cecil is powerful. And he's been protecting Carlos, in ways he might not even realize. Which means that Carlos is free to acknowledge Night Vale's weirdness, and because perception is reality in Night Vale, it changes for him.

I'll get back to this more later, but you see this a lot with the University of What It Is. If anything, that's what the UOWII arc is about. It's been a thesis since at least Who's A Good Boy? and Cecil wandering through the ruins of Night Vale, announcing that he must bear witness, even though he is sure his mic is not broadcasting to anyone. Perception is reality and acknowledgement is what is keeping Night Vale together post-Matryoshka and what kept it from toppling into the abyss to begin with. Carlos becomes unbelievably powerful in this way, in this understanding of the power of observation and recording. (I promise we will get back to the UOWII but I want to spend actual time on that and I have other stuff I wanna talk about first.)

Carlos does not seem to realize this, though, not for a while. I personally don't think that it really clicks for Carlos entirely what perception is reality means in the case of Night Vale until somewhere around Toast. I do not think it really clicks for Carlos how important he has become here, how much of an impact he has had, until reality itself starts to fall apart. The key of Carlos, and Carlos's impact, and what makes this Night Vale the True Night Vale as opposed to any of the other Night Vales we learn about, is the presence of Carlos. Every Night Vale has a Cecil, because the existence of Night Vale hinges on the existence of Cecil. There is only one Carlos, though.

Carlos only exists in this one reality. Carlos only exists in this one version of Night Vale. And we see how much that has changed things! We see it in The Missing Sky, when we hear the miniature city's Cecil and how sad he is. This Cecil is despondent, and cannot see any reason to keep going. He is deep, deep in a terrible dissociative depression, reporting on a pointless war and a missing sky and a god he believes has abandoned them. We see it in Cal, with the version of Cecil who never met Carlos, either, and Cal himself. The simple, stated question of "do you have a girlfriend yet?" sets all the scene we need for Cal. This Cecil does not have a Carlos, and he does not even have the safety in the knowledge that Night Vale is a safe place for him to announce, loudly, to the whole world, that he loves another man. And it's... depressing.

The podcast is from Cecil's point of view, so we get most of this information from listening to Cecil talk. We don't really see Carlos's perspective often, if ever, if not filtered through the way he interacts with Cecil. For that, I take us now to It Devours! because oh boy. It is very clear that Carlos loves Cecil very very deeply. If only from what we get in voicemails and phone calls. I haven't listened to it, but my understanding is that he's very clear about his love for Cecil in Condos, too. And we get it from his actions in Taking Off/Review and the way he picks up everything he's been doing for a year in the desert otherworld to go back to Night Vale and to Cecil because he loves Cecil and wants that to be his home.

Except, it wasn't a year. It was ten. And this information is revealed right alongside Carlos cares about the people he loves more than anything and the book-long element of Carlos trying, despite the wishes of City Council, to investigate the desert otherworld. I have written so much about the desert otherworld, and I will write more, because holy shit. Holy shit. I'm not going to tell you what it is because it made me almost scream for real in the very early hours of the morning when I heard it, but the information that is revealed in the very end of It Devours! is heartbreaking. Carlos cares about the people he loves more than anything, and it brings him right to the brink of destruction, because of how much he cares about Cecil and this new family he has found through Cecil. And throughout It Devours! you get such a clear idea of just how much Carlos loves Cecil, how much knowing Cecil has changed Carlos right back.

And, like, the autistic coding. It is blatant. It is obvious. It is much harder to overlook it than to notice it. It is intentional. We're getting to the part here where I might be calling myself out a little bit but like. The way that it weaves into how he expresses his love for Cecil and for Night Vale. It's the way that it is channeled through his science, and how his science helps him make sense of the world. I love him, and I love how he is written in such a way that his science has become the lens through which he navigates the world and this step-by-step justification of his existence. The way that this plays into the ongoing belongingness element of his arc throughout the podcast. 

He starts as an outsider, and he stays an outsider, and just as he's starting to think he might not be an outsider, well. The desert otherworld happens. And I've definitely worked through a lot of these thoughts already but that's what it comes down to! I cannot help but read his belongingness arc as innately tied into how he is written as autistic because that's just what it's like to grow up autistic! You don't belong anywhere, or at least that's what you're told. If you're a lucky one, that message isn't stated explicitly, but it's there. Of course he's cautious with his assertion he belongs in Night Vale! It would be a wonder if he wasn't!

So he does not know how important he is until he is forced to see it and then as soon as he is forced to see it it becomes his whole world. And every time I think about how there is only one Carlos across every single Night Vale in existence (or tentative non-existence), I have to think about how he believed he should not return to Night Vale because the door had shut for him, and how this led to spending a full ten years in a lonely and empty desert otherworld while Cecil fell apart back in Night Vale. I think about Cecil's sobbed I am still holding the trophy in One Year Later, and I think about Carlos grounds me in Delta and I think about how, in The Promise of Time, his joy at the end was for himself and Carlos, and I think about his panicked I have to call Carlos as soon as the warrant goes out in The Heist Pt. 3. And because of that... Night Vale attaches its reality to Carlos, too.

Night Vale cannot exist as it is now without both of them. There is only one version of Carlos across every single version of Night Vale. Carlos makes Night Vale what it becomes, because he witnesses. He witnesses and he records it all and he investigates and he understands. Besides Cecil, I do not think there is a single person in town other than Carlos who truly understands Night Vale. He understands it through scientific observation and archival and experimentation. Carlos pokes the boundaries to see how they'll react to him but he never crosses them, never breaks them. He does not feel the need to explain why Night Vale is the way it is now, because it simply is. He is observing the laws of this town (both legal and physical) and he respects them and nods as he passes.

Which brings us back to the University of What It Is. I said we'd come back to this, didn't I? I don't know how much I can say that doesn't lead to speculative conclusions here, because the UOWII arc isn't finished at the time of writing, but there are some things that have been laid out clearly. Janet Lubelle does not stop for anything or anyone. Janet Lubelle is what the UOWII considers to be the height of a successful scientist. Carlos used to also be considered a successful scientist, and then he came to Night Vale, and he lost whatever quality it was that the UOWII considered a qualifier of success.

Janet Lubelle does not respect the rules of Night Vale. It's very, very easy to see Dr. Lubelle as a foil for Carlos, especially since they came from the same institution. Only, Dr. Lubelle tramples over those boundaries, those unspoken (and, arguably, spoken) rules that make Night Vale what it is. She is here for an explanation for everything and she will not stop until all the mystery, all the wonder, is gone. And she calls it science. 

And if you go back far enough, Carlos talked like this too! He was looking for an explanation to Night Vale's temporal weirdness, an explanation for its weird seismic activity, an explanation for the house that does not exist. But he adapted, and he learned, and he observed, and he took his time and did not simply enforce his way of things onto the world without its permission.

Carlos feels like a love letter to science and the scientific way of observing the world and falling further in love with it through that scientific inquiry. I'm going to get a little, uh, sappy and personal here, so fair warning, but I likely have that reading because that's been how I've lived my whole life. I was talking to someone even just today about how, when I was little, my dad would take us out onto the back patio and we would set things on fire and see what we could burn to make the fire different colors. 

I've grown up with parents who deeply, truly love science. My mom has a physics degree. My dad has a math one. He still texts my family group chat every day to inform us it is pi time at 3:14. Every day. So maybe it's that, and maybe it's growing up with an understanding of the world that is rooted in scientific inquiry and questions and exploration, but Carlos feels like a love letter to science to me.

Carlos comes in and he turns the entire world on its head as he does it and he finds, at the end of the day, that he loves Night Vale. He loves Night Vale because it's so weird. It's the most scientifically fascinating place in the U.S. and this becomes his way of saying I love you. I want to understand you. Science, through Carlos, is its own sort of faith in the world and the way it is all put together, how everything connects. And Night Vale loves him back for it. He'll poke and prod at the edges but he will never cross them if he knows crossing will do harm, even if he does not fully understand why, because following an ever-growing series of whys is what science is about. Not having one single explanation at the end of the day. 

Carlos's exploration of Night Vale changes it, because it must change, everything must change eventually in order to continue to exist, and Carlos does what he can to help it not fall apart completely as it does. Carlos becomes more Night Vale as time progresses, and Night Vale lets more of Carlos in, until he is so enshrined in it that it is just his life. Night Vale lets him rest, and here, in this weird, weird town that is so incredibly hard to find, he finally finds a place he belongs. I don't know what isn't to love about that.

[caixxa]

A1,A 2, B6, B9, BASICALLY ALL OF THE C QUESTIONS! PLS I WANT TO KNOW! (if you feel like responding lmao) thank you, love you and hope you are having a really nice day! <3

Sorry that it took so long to answer! I had a hellish day and we live on almost opposite time zones, so.

A1: When did you start reading fanfiction?

Summer 2016, after Euro 2016. As an adult, well past 30, I rediscovered the fun of being A Fan.

A2: How did you find your first fic?

I googled, learned new search phrases to google until I found the stuff I really liked. I think the first searches were like "Gareth Bale fan fiction" and the really effective one that I think finally led me to Ao3 (I have no idea what the first sites were) was more in the way of "Cristiano ronaldo gareth bale m/m slash" lol. I read only as a guest user for months, I didn't make my own account until I wanted to write and post my own work.

B6. What is your favourite story trope? Why?

Friends to lovers with sexual exploration on the way. Seductive younger man developing in a twisted power balance/imbalance relationship with an older man. Stuff with sexual tension and a vibe of something forbidden.

B9. Who is your OTP?

I'm such a multi-shipper! I always say it's Aho/TT because they are soulmates and the Finnish connection and two cherubs who share a brain on the ice and fly together and are stupid codependent bros. But I've come to think that the true OTP is Sepe/mentors and authority figures. I came to that conclusion when I heard on the Canes Corner podcast that in his first interviews, he always mentioned Ron Francis, and I couldn't but nod along. Of course he did. A franchise legend who drafted him, of course. He still mentioned him on the Siim Liivik podcast like last summer, you know. He loves Rod, he loves Pekka, he loves Justin Williams, he was so into Burns being traded to the Canes. He's a fireball on the ice but off the ice, his daddy kink can be seen from SPACE.

THe C section:

What trope are you tired of reading? Why? Self-harm or suicide as a romantic plot point. It should be self-explanatory, I detest all variations of the trope where romantic counterpart saves the protagonist from shit they should figure out with themselves first, especially if there is a "love as a miracle cure" element to it. I feel similarly about th "you deserve better, let me save you from your abusive relationship by making you mine". No. If this happens from a base of friendship and they develop love later, that works, but falling in love as a cure because The One Sees Your Beauty When Others Don't is yucky. Elaborate proposals in front of an audience gathered specifically to celebrate the occasion as peak romance is so weird too, maybe I just don't get American wedding culture. (These tropes are more present in m/f imagines than m/m rpf, tho)

What word or expression always makes you cringe when you read it? "Too" when it's supposed to be "to" is the only one of those that I often see in fic writing, but in general, "Their" when you mean "They're" or "it's" for "its" when native speakers do it... IT'S YOUR OWN LANGUAGE! HOW CAN YOU NOT GET THE EASY ONES RIGHT?

Is there anything that makes you nope out of a story? What is it? Double spacing between each paragraph. I know that it's mostly because the Ao3 rich text editor doesn't copy/paste google docs right. I will have to be REALLY drawn into the story and want to read it really bad to struggle through that.

What thing that fandom loves do you actually kind of hate? Why? Hockey fights. They're so unnecessary, they're just an example of the American fixation on violence and vigilante justice. It's okay to me that hockey is a rough game, cross checking and body checking is absolutely fine by me, but dropping the gloves.. it's such a stupid, primitive thing to do. Hockey does fine without it. I know this is unpopular bc y'all love violence. I see all the wrestling posts y'know, and all the "hot" tags in hockey fight posts. *points at all directions, staring judgementally*

What character that fandom loves are you just kinda “meh” about? Why? Hockey players: Anthony Beauvillier. This is just about his looks, I don't see what most people see, he looks so plain to me.

Is there anything in canon that made you want to quit the show? What was it? Why did you hate it? Are we still talking hockey/sports because all i read is sports rpf? Well, I used to like F1 but Ihave very little interest in it now. I just don't think that a motorsport that is done on vehicles for no other use than driving on these extensive tracks made of concrete and asphalt just for it is just gross. In rally, there is at least something organic (lol) and relatable. Also, the last Cristiano Ronaldo fic I read was after his transfer to Juventus, after that I think he's made a fool of himself.

Who is your NOTP? Sepe/Seth Jarvis, Sepe/Jordan Martinook. I think it's bc I have zero attraction to the other guy haha, plus Jarvy only gives me goofy little brother vibes, not ship vibes. Also, Cressi was the big ship when I entered football rpf and I could see the two superstars, rivals, el clasico etc etc intellectually but I just sensed no chemistry between cr7 and messi whatsoever so it's always been kinda NOTP for me.

What is one plot twist you wish people would stop using?  Do all the plot twists your heart desires, man, writing is supposed to be fun! But what I said in C1 counts here too.

What show did you really try to watch, but you just couldn’t? This happens with all the shows. I watch a few episodes but can't find the time to finish them. I also skipped a lot (most) of NHL games last season because I need to sleep.

What book could you just never get into, no matter how hard you tried? I don't try hard with my reading, if I don't like the book I quit. The hardest I've tried was probably War and Peace which I read so slowly that I eventually forgot what had happened before and kinda drifted off it after maybe 20%.

Thank you for the ask and have a super duper fine summer!!

(the ask game post is this)

[emptymanuscript]

I totally want some kind of gameplay element like Chants of Sennar in Tripoke.

Like, you see a sign:

It's yours to do with as you please. You can ignore it. That's fine.

OR

You can collect the symbols and contexts and figure out what they say and mean.

Up to you.

And if you figure them out correctly they're clues to other things to go and do. Which you might stumble on anyway. And figuring them out wrong might lead you to other places to experience other things.

The real STRUCTURAL heart of what I want to with Tripoke is to not have a MetaPLOT but to have a MetaLOCATION.

The idea is a shifting hexcrawl, for lack of a better term. There's a Huge world with lots of STUFF in it, and the PCs don't know how big the world is and how much stuff is there or how it works. They go to a location (again, hex for lack of a better word, even though I'm not actually using a hex map) for one reason or another and simply deal with what's there. They can map it out or not, again, doesn't matter. They can interact with it or not (though the stuff in each hex may have its own ideas and forcibly interact with them).

That's my exception I'm making for the "starting" hex. You have to start here for the "tutorial" (read: the GM is still figuring all this out, too, so let's start where it is safe and easy to fail AND easy to just get back on board) level stuff. These people in this hex are relatively low level and actively seeking people to help them move from one hex to another because they need to do so. Once everyone knows what they're doing well enough, I'll be loosey goosey on where to start characters from, as well. If someone says, "Hey, I was really interested in Hex 183 back there but didn't feel it was appropriate, can I have a character going there for some reason?" "Sure, we'll follow that up. Who's the character? Why are they going there? And when you've got their scores, I'd like you to deal a hand for me."

The big "In Character" secret, which I'm just giving up in my attempt to turn my preconceptions and narratives on their head for my own mental health, is that the hexes shift (again, for lack of better terminology). While you might take a route through a canyon in Hex 5 (arbitrary #, like I said, I'm not actually using hexes at the moment, I might change my mind later if needs demand it) on your way from the desperately impoverished Faurgwerner (Shoemaker/Cobbler/Sutter - Faur -foot - Gwen - to, clothe -> Faurgwen - shoe - r(Final consonant)er - possessor of the state of being of the rest of the word >_< because I'm dumb and obsessive and it's Hesswarner and not German, which MUST be totes different >_< someone stop me, please, it's a different world and literally nobody but me cares AND even I won't care in an hour >_< I do not need to make my Cowboys & Dinosaurs Weird West RPG have lingusitic merit at all)

Ahem, that paragraph got away from me.

Better:

Even if you accompany the Dinosaur Drive from the desperately poor Faurgwerner Triceratops Ranch to a market in the burgeoning 20 year old city Farriver through a canyon in Hex 5 , even if you retrace your steps exactly from Farriver to the Ranch, so you're walking over what should be your own footsteps, you won't necessarily find the canyon because Hex 5 might have shifted into Hex 300, so you find what's in Hex 300 instead of what you expect in Hex 5.

The world in the game and the characters that inhabit it have not figured out that the Long Wild (what I intend to be the majority of the game's setting) does this. It is the missing explanation for how untamable the vast plains are and what happened to all the people that there seems to be plenty of signs lived there.

And it's intentionally meant to be a complicated enough mechanic inside the fiction that me simply rolling / drawing / randomizing the results will do for game purposes. If the player wants their character to figure out the pattern. They can have the CHARACTER figure it out and treat it like a normal skill thing. The CHARACTER can say, "Eureka, I've got it! If we observe [Technical Nonsense that the CHARACTER understands but we don't] and cross reference it with [Technical Nonsense that the CHARACTER understands but we don't] then we can calculate via [Technical Nonsense that the CHARACTER understands but we don't] that [Feature the CHARACTER is trying to anticipate] will appear at [Time/location to appropriately match the CHARACTER's needs which is necessary for them to know but we'll just make it happen because the details don't actually matter to us, just what happens when we get there]." And the scientist NPC character will nod in approved amazement. "By the stars and mountains, you're right! It's [Technical Nonsense that the CHARACTER understands but we don't] but how did you ever figure it out? That would take [Some amazing Character Merit you paid points for, described from the in world point of view]!" "Lucky, for us, I was up to the task. Hurry, we've barely enough time, allowing for inevitable inconveniences, to make it before [Time they care about but we don't]."

Because, again, I don't want metaplot. I want the plot to simply be whatever emerges. Just quests available to be found and engaged with or not, more or less at desire.

I just think it would be neat to have some kind of simple puzzle solving mechanic quest (find this nonsense and its meaning) the other way where character's can get clues on how to try and make certain shifts occur at their own will.

Essentially, giving a mini-game way to explain why the monster's dungeon is right next to town. Who would build next to a monster dungeon?? No one. But if the PCs can learn to shift the land right outside of town into the dungeon they want to raid (and hopefully then back again) then the proximity is suddenly explicable. The dungeon is there because the PCs put it there magically. The PCs learned this bit of magic and can summon this bit of area and interact with it. It also opens up the tactical advantage of trying to shift areas as a solution to difficulties.

If the PCs happen to learn of a hex full of water and learn how to summon that hex to where they are. Not necessarily useful most of the time but if they then end up in a hex full of fire elementals, they suddenly have a viable tactical advantage against the fire elementals WITHOUT actually engaging in combat with the elementals if they can figure out how to survive being dropped in the middle of a lake also.

Technically, I wouldn't even need to make a real language or anything. Not even real symbols. I could do the exact same thing as the dialogue. You see a rune, make a check, ok, you are now able to deduce that this is the rune that will summon that hex with a lake in it.

The advantages of giving the players the ability to fiddle in a puzzle way with the runes is that it caps the speed of advancement to what we can actually follow and it allows the players to come up with a combination that I haven't even remotely thought of or prepared for. And things can be fun when they go off the rails.

And I need to stop talking about and prepping for this game and actually just F*ing Play. Oy!!

My brain >_<

[brzatto]

Hello! I'm the person who wrote the dissertation-length comment on chapter 2 of BCM. My essay of a comment probably speaks for itself but I really love your writing. I'm still thinking about your fic over a week later and reread your reply to my comment over and over. It took me a full evening to read chapter 2 because I would read a part, sit and think about it, then move to the next part. Even though the chapter was so long I was scared with each paragraph that it was going to end, I didn't want to stop reading. The ending was really satisfying, if the fic ended there it would be a lovely ending, but like I said in my original comment I'm so happy there's more to come. The ominous reply from you saying you might scrap what you've written and rewrite the ending nudged me to message you. I really hope you don't scrap what you've written so far! Even if it's not the direction you want the fic to go now, I think everyone would love to see the alternate ending if you're happy to share it in the event you don't use it for the fic. Kind of a "BCM 0.5" if you will. Everyone is begging for the porny carmrich writing so thought I'd throw my hat in the ring and beg for the alt. ending of BCM. xD

Also thank you for leaving such a long reply to my comment! I really liked hearing your thoughts about Carmy and Richie and would love to hear more about your writing process. Your fic was the first The Bear fic I ever read and it hasn't left my mind since I first read it back in December last year.

Sorry for another really long message I can't seem to stop typing once I start. xD

(p.s. you should post the carmrich pwp huhuhuhuhu)

of course i remember you! i always remember repeat commenters and i distinctly remember being at work when i got the email for the first comment you left me on bcm, it was a really lovely comment and it made my entire night.

i say this often to a lot of commenters but it really does mean so much to me that you enjoy my writing and it has that sort of effect on you!!! like more than you’ll ever know. i can count the number of times i’ve actually published works on ao3 on two hands and i’ve always gravitated towards rarepairs with nicher audiences in almost every fandom i’ve been in so the type of enthusiasm i’ve received so far with bcm is really genuinely touching. i always try my best to reciprocate the energy given to me in the comments i get but longer ones make me especially happy because i loooove discussing character analysis and dynamics with people and i’m always eager to know how other people interpret my characters and my writing! thanks for how much thought you put into all of your comments, i always look forward to reading what you have to say <3

as for the ending of bcm i don’t actually think i’ll fully be scrapping it, it’ll still end the same general way that i had in mind but i’ll probably end up rewriting/reworking it because a big chunk of the fic leading up to it is still unwritten and by the time i actually get close to the ending it probably won’t make much sense as it is currently word for word. i don’t normally write in chronological order, i write scenes out as they come to me (i usually envision climactic scenes very visually in my head and then write them out first lol) and then fill in the gaps/flesh out the storyline as i go. but since i got the idea for this fic and planned it out back before s2 came out and now s2 is out and canon’s been vastly expanded i’ll probably end up also borrowing some elements from s2 for my own storyline purposes just because if i’m being fully honest… i actually can’t tell you what ch3 of bcm and onwards is going to be like. i have vague notions of major plot points and the direction i want the story to take and fragments of later scenes in my docs but even as it stands now uncompleted bcm is the longest thing i’ve ever written (it’s 49k on ao3 and 60k in my docs) like… ever. i’m not used to finishing fics at all much less writing long fics (if bcm would count as one) so this is all very much new territory for me but everyone’s support and encouraging really helps keep me engaged and on track! including yours 🤍 in the event that the ending does drastically depart from what i’ve originally envisioned for it i probably will upload the alt ending separately. i’ve also sort of toyed with the idea of writing some scenes out from richie’s pov but if anything that’ll be something that comes much much later.

[strixcattus]

You know what? Babel Text.

I've been working on the conlang Yvelse for... a couple years now, I think? I wouldn't call it a stellar piece of work or a beast or anything, but it's decent-sized and I feel like talking about it, so. No proper gloss as I am tired (this text is straight from the Google Doc, which also does not have a proper gloss, merely a retranslation where I leave the grammar as-is), but I'll annotate. A lot.

SEN. Sa yɾe soɾalnol sen ocremyln meɾen.

Nothing of interest here unless you're really into (completely regular) plural forms. Sentence structure is a firm SOV. Worth noting before we get in any deeper, I am deeply inconsistent with the IPA. "C" is /k/. Vowels are completely regular, except "Y" is /ji/ at the start of a word and /i/ otherwise. All other consonants are as they'd be in English, or if they don't appear in English, in IPA.

LEVY. Sa srēc honym-hoplen sϕu lotseɾen ryn srēc suntly Shynar shu cereln ny evsɾen mansɾen, sa srēc melum ny cyveɾen.

Bit more to unpack here. "Srēc" is a neutral third-person pronoun—long vowels only appear in compound words and pronouns. "Honym-hoplen" translates as "east," but a more literal rendition would be "northeast-southeast" or, better yet, "airward-fireward." Why would anyone do this???

Let's talk history for a moment. From within my writing and notes, there are two very old languages on Deus, created directly by the gods, named Elder and Ancient. These two languages are Latin and Old English respectively, as there were words from both languages sprinkled through the worldbuilding before I ever dreamed Yvelse would be a proper conlang. Elder was clearly named after it went extinct, as when it was created it would have been the only language in existence and thus not needed a name. Ditto for Ancient, no doubt—maybe their original names have been lost to time?

Elder and Ancient blended together and had a kid, Old Dean. Old Dean was pretty much an evolution of Elder with significant Ancient influence. Old Dean gave way to modern Dean, and there we are today.

At least one, maybe both, of Elder and Ancient had nice little direction words based on how the gods saw the world from above, as a square with four sides. These words survived to modern Dean. Yvelse... didn't get that. Its speakers had to make their own direction words, and at the time, the four sides of their flat world were not the most obvious basis for such a thing. Instead, they turned to the four primordial elemental seas, which cover the corners of the world. Hence, such a strange construct for "east."

CON. Sa srēc, sen soɾal nevy nysoɾal, “Eɾan ocurnaɾan βeppōm, sa otēc lumē ansecom��� vysɾen. Sa srēc anseɾa ocurnaɾan meɾen.

Not much new here, but we get to see all three kinds of long vowels! There's the return of srēc and a new pronoun, tēc (third-person inanimate plural), as well as the verb βeppe being conjugated with an affix (future tense, -om) that changes its final vowel and makes it long. Lastly, lumē is the adverb form of lume, "whole." Adverbs are formed by lengthening the final vowel.

Kind of nice to get verbs in a tense that isn't distant past (that's why everything ends in -ɾen or -sɾen).

TANTSUTU. Sa srēc, “Eɾan uββer osoɾaly sa ōntme, tsyce shu aϕen tsen ny βōm, nohumom, sa eɾan oweta nylornom, vem oweɾan cerelnol usse hyshelcaɾo taβōm,” vysɾen.

Me βo translates as "to be." Me taβo would be "not to be." I like how English handles infinitives and I wanted to make use of it. There are no infinitives in this text and this paragraph was supposed to be pointing out the negative prefix.

"Shu," which has popped up a couple times and will pop up a couple more, indicates possessiveness.

VLY. Sa tsenvo yɾe uββer osoɾaly sa yɾe ōntme, ϕe yɾe soɾalec nohuɾen, peɾen.

"Tsenvo" specifically means elder god—"tsyvvo" is a lesser god. The guy being ticked off at this tower is a Big Deal. Also, "pyhec" is a new third-person plural pronoun! This one is used only for children. I love how many ways I can translate a word that's only ever "they" in English.

HEVA. Sa yɾe tsenvo, “Shoper, yɾe soɾalnol sen βo, sa pyhecol sen ocremyln men, sa pyhec ceɾorshy, sa syl operc nypyhec emeɾoɾo sɾor fyn βōm, fen pyhec otem sylve,” vysren.

Worth mention at this point that o- is a prefix for direct objects and ny- a prefix for indirect objects. "Yɾe," which has shown up a lot, is a definite article.

POL. Sa βontrun, “En cereln sɾo lunom, sa pyhec shu ocremyln melum ny neϕerom, vem pyhec nevy soɾalec shu hetseɾa tatsushonom,” vysren.

βontrun is the first singular pronoun we get to see. (The plural is βontec.) This one is of course also third-person, and applies to someone of a higher social status than the speaker. In this case, the one of a higher social status is an elder god. (And it's also "they" when retranslated into English, because we can't tell the god's gender from this text! Dang!)

SHONCU. Vem yɾe tsenvo yɾe osoɾalec cerelnol usse hysheloɾa.

The numerical system is very regular in terms of syllables: the word for one is one syllable, the word for two is two syllables, the word for three is one again, the word for four is three... the ABACABA pattern (ABACABAB?) makes it easy for me to guarantee I don't miss a line. It's also a base-eight system (while we humans form our base from our ten fingers, Velsen take theirs from the eight phases of the moon).

SHONSEN. Vem yɾe ōntme wetaɾo Papel βo, βereshe yɾe tsenvo yɾe soɾalec shu hetseɾa melum ny neϕeɾen, sa osrēc cerelnol usse hysheloɾa.

With no B in Yvelse, Babel had to be changed to Papel, because the next closest option was βaβel, and that is clearly suboptimal. "Shonsen" is "shon(cu)" (8) + "sen" (1), or 9, or 11 as it'd be written. Yvelse has its own numerals (and is probably the world's source of a 0, as the other language in play is Latin, leaving the only other possibility to be that Roman numerals are in modern use on Deus, an idea too horrendous to comprehend) to go with its own writing system, but neither is supported by Tumblr. Yet.

[thewolfruns]

get to know the author!

name : lucia

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : i like a tumblr im at first, but then it's discord once we know one another/are mutuals. i'm super adhd/working/a mom, so it's easy for me to lose track thinking i've responded to messages that really i just read and then replied in my head to. so don't be afraid to double message me.

most active muse :  hmmm, i'm not sure who is most active? maybe blanca, since she's a newer one and i'm trying to figure her out.

experience / how many years : oh, gosh. well, i've sort of rped earlier than tumblr, but it was a long time ago. i'd say i started on tumblr in maybe 2013? 2012? i ran a game of thrones fashion blog lmao and an rp hit me up for a promo. i was like, this seems cool and joined. then i joined hellstate in 2015, which was a zombie rp and where i met velouria! we've been writing together ever since both in groups and indie.

best experience : i miss group rp a lot sometimes, because of the shared universe and like community there. i think hellstate was my best experience and like 2015 hellstate was peak. there's so much like shared lore and it's really fun when a group works. velouria has had quite a few amazing brainchildren we've built together, so maybe another fave would be southboundhq, which deserved so much more time! now we work on verses and that's p great. aside from that, i've really been enjoying this account since i started fresh. i've got quite a few people to write with who seem both interested in worldbuilding/their own muses and in mine as well. so thank you all!

rp pet peeves : oh, gosh. weird vocabulary fads? like eyes being called hues. there's nothing really wrong with it, but it makes me laugh at how things like that really catch on in the rpc. when folks don't have much to add in plotting conversations and it feels sort of like you're the only one keeping the conversation going. i feel too awkward! i can't do it!

fluff, angst, or smut : oh, gosh, angst. i don't write smut and i'm not really super into fluff either? unless it's like a little meme answer or drabble, which can be a nice refresher. but i'm here for the horror and drama okay.

plots or memes : i like a loose plot, but i'm very go with the flow. it's more exciting though to have an idea where we're going with something. i think that's why my open starters are so long lmao because i need to paint a clear picture of where it's going.

long or short replies : i like a short reply for when i'm trying to break out of a writer's block or, like right now, dusting off my writing cap. they almost always turn into much longer replies though. i can't stop myself. i want like 87 paragraphs and i have no chill.

time to write : has to be nighttime, babies. i have a pretty great couple hours like 8 nights a month where i can really get to writing. it's always after my kiddo goes to sleep and my spouse is working (unless we're like parallel playing and he's gaming or cooking or something, then i get a little more time).

are you like your muses : oh, there's definitely aspects of myself in most of my muses. or people i know. or i write muses to work through certain things (i.e. neve has a lot of job similarities/family history for working through some trauma, nadja has some old punk rock memories and sort of an amalgamation of old friends and my mom, miguel has sort of similar personality to my partner, etc.) i sort of just steal elements from myself or people i know and mold them together into someone new. but i don't think i share like an overall personality with any of them.

tagged by: @missmvrder

tagging: @someotherdog , @wynterlanding , @mutatedangels , @peachyuus , @mctionsick , @aliasmultimuse , and anybody else! tagging folks gives me anxiety lmao. i hate leaving people out.

[pastelwitchling]

Seasons of the Storm by Elle Cosimano

⭐⭐.75

Oh my GOD, I EARNED this rant, do you understand me? I've EARNED it.

I don't know what's more devastating. The fact that I felt the need to finish this because I've DNFed so many books lately and desperately need to make it out of this reading slump, or the fact that the worst part about this book was all the wasted potential. In fact, that's the best way to really describe it. Reading this is the equivalent of watching the live-action Last Airbender movie; you start off excited with the concept because it promises epic adventures and elements at one's fingertips and rich characters; you see the kernels of good ideas, but none of it is ever used. The entire book rushes from one point to another, leaving every moment rushed and unimportant.

I was thrown off when Jack's own death scene in the first chapter started and finished within maybe two paragraphs, but I let it go. And then we got the same thing for the entirety of the rest of the book. It's all just getting from here to there with no time to take in ANYTHING.

The "Seasons" (I'll get to that in a minute) can't touch each other or they'll supposedly die. But no worries, because a few chapters later, they figure it's okay to touch each other, so that's not a problem anymore. Jack includes a bunch complicated science talk on how they can escape the Observatory, this place we've barely seen and have no feelings about, leaves a few maps for Fleur behind, and suddenly she can completely understand his idea. They talk a lot about how this and that is going to be a big deal and hard to manage, then manage it in less than a page, and move on. All the Seasons coming at them at once? They escape in, once again, about a page, and move on. Important character dies? We get maybe four lines dedicated to it, and move on.

The descriptions were just plain not well done. For however short the fight scenes were, they felt even shorter because I didn't understand half of what was going on. People would suddenly fall out of car windows in confusing ways that I had to read and reread to make sense of, people would "tense up" a LINE after they were just chatting and laughing like they sensed danger, but we as the reader never really get to experience that, and they talked a lot about these people controlling the seasons, but it never made any sense how they managed it. They never showed ANYBODY so much as lining the trees with frost, or making leaves change color, or making flowers grow. It seemed more like these people were being affected by the change in nature rather than them affecting any change themselves. So there goes the magic and whimsy.

Which brings me to the second biggest issue I had with this book. It was trying so hard to be Rise of the Guardians, Percy Jackson, and The Raven Cycle without ANY of the heart. I remember Jack Frost and his staff, I remember the abandoned amusement park in The Lightning Thief, I remember 300 Fox Way. Why? Because the authors took the time to explore the characters, their powers, and these places. All the campers at Camp Half-Blood had such presence. When the Athena cabin or ANY worked together, you knew you were going to see something amazing happen because you knew they weren't human. The characters in this book, however, felt like nothing BUT human. The fact that they were seasons felt more like an aside.

I expected whimsy and magic and epic battles using the elements, and instead I got a college setting with a bunch of science talk that left gaping plot holes in the story! Explain to me this; if Chronos, Gaia, and ALL of them are supposed to just be "vessels," what's their purpose? We never SEE any of them actually creating anything, never see them use their powers to change the weather. It changes based on their moods! If anything, having vessels for the seasons seems more like a liability! But oh, it has to fit the weird science logic that this book insists on having.

That's another issue; how convenient everything is, and how often everything happens off the page. They need money to escape; oh no worries, all the Seasons are unreasonably rich. (Why are Seasons saving up money? And how do they manage to save up money? For the three months they're out in the world, don't they have work to do controlling the weather? I'm assuming, since we never actually see it?)

Too much telling and not showing. We keep getting told about how close the eight of them are, but it's like they want us to forget that almost all the four Seasons (outside of Amber) forced and guilted their Handlers into giving up immortality to join them. Choose immortality or choose death at Chronos's hands because I want to escape where I will forever be immortal anyway. When Fleur had the actual NERVE to say that Marie had the choice to go where she wanted AFTER they had knocked her unconscious and forced her along with them? Oh but it's okay, it's okay, because every so often, we'll get a reminder of how guilty the Seasons feel about what they did to their Handlers, which makes it all okay. What a load.

So much was needlessly difficult for drama when it really could've been resolved so easily. Like the fact that Fleur starts an earthquake all by herself even though they have an army of other Seasons with them, another Spring included, and yet SHE had to be the one to start the earthquake by herself? Why? And why did Lyon have to be so damn cryptic about everything? With Chiron in Percy Jackson, you understand why he has to be careful with his wording; the gods are always watching, the Fates are always watching, one of the gods resides with them in the camp, and they have rules about anyone knowing too much about their future, especially a demigod hero. With this, Lyon just felt like a cheap knockoff of Chiron, keeping things vague so that Jack could a few pages later piece things together, even though Lyon could've just directly told him how to fight back. It made no sense.

What bothers me the most is what this could've been. This felt like the last book in a series, expecting to get the same amount of emotion and attachment we form to characters that we've had the chance to know for several books. Instead, this one skips to the end. I don't even know WHY they had to be so-called "embodiments of seasons" if they don't act that way. I love how much Jack loves Fleur, I love Amber and Julio, I love Fleur's strength, and I love the Handlers, too. (They deserved so much better.) But instead of leaning into the magical aspect that this book kind of promises, it crams in way too much and rushes through it all. I have a lot more problems with this book, but I'll end it here. I'm tired. After getting through it, however, after acknowledging what we could've had, the only thing I really have left to say is... man, what a waste.