#and i don't have time for the nonsense any more

[prokopetz]

With DND 5e being set up to cause DM burnout, can you give examples of tabletop systems that facilitate easy DMing? I love running a tabletop game but don't have the time to deal with 5e or homebrew anymore.

(With reference to this post here.)

This is an area where you're going to get a lot of bad advice, because there's no such thing as a tabletop RPG that's "easy to GM" in the abstract. Some systems make greater or lesser demands of the GM's time and skill, but the reason that Dungeons & Dragons has a massive GM burnout problem is a bit more subtle than that – indeed, D&D's GM burnout problem is considerably worse than that of many games whose procedures of play place much greater demands on the GM!

It boils down to the fact that games are opinionated. Even a very simple set of rules contains a vast number of baked-in assumptions about how the game ought to be played; in the case of tabletop RPGs, those baked-in assumptions include assumptions about what kinds of stories the game ought to be used to tell. The players of any given group, of course, also have assumptions – some explicit, many unexamined – about how the game's story ought to go. It's rare that these two sets of assumptions will perfectly agree.

Fortunately, perfect agreement isn't necessary, because tabletop RPGs aren't computer games, and it's always possible to tweak the outputs of the rules on the fly to better suit the desired narrative experience. In conventional one-GM-many-players games like D&D, this responsibility for monitoring and adjusting the outputs of the rules so that they're compatible with the narrative space the group wishes to explore falls principally on the GM.

Now, here's where the trouble starts: the larger the disconnect between the story the rules want to produce and the narrative space the group wants to explore, the more work the GM in a conventional one-GM-many-players context needs to do in order to close that gap. If the disconnect is large enough, the GM ends up spending practically all of their time babysitting the outputs of the rules, at the expense of literally every other facet of their responsibilities.

(Conversely, if that gap is large and isn't successfully closed, you can end up with a situation where engaging with the rules and engaging with the narrative become mutually exclusive activities. This is where we get daft ideas like "combat" and "roleplaying" being opposites – which is nonsense, of course, but it's persuasive nonsense if you've never experienced a game where the rules agree with you about what kind of story you should be telling.)

And here's where the problem with Dungeons & Dragons in particular arises. The rules of D&D aren't especially more opinionated than those of your average tabletop RPG; however, the game has developed a culture of play that's allergic to actually acknowledging this. There are several legs to this, including:

a text which makes claims about the game's supported modes of play that are far broader than what the rules in fact support;

a body of received wisdom about GMing best practices which consists mostly of advice on how to close the gap between the rules' assumptions and the players' expectations (but refuses to admit that this is what it's doing);

a player culture which has become increasingly hostile to players learning or knowing the rules, and positions any expectation that players should learn the rules as a form of "gatekeeping"; and

a propensity to treat a very high level of GMing skill as an entry-level expectation.

Taken together, all this produces a situation where, when the rules and the group disagree about how the game's story ought to go, the players don't experience it as a problem with the rules: they experience it as a problem with the GM. A lot of GMs even buy into this perception themselves, which is how you end up with GM advice forums overflowing with people telling novice GMs that they're morally bad people for being unprepared to tackle very advanced GMing challenges right from the jump.

(At this point, one may wonder: why on Earth would a game develop this sort of culture of play in the first place? Who benefits? Well, what we're looking at in practice is a culture of play which treats novice and casual GMs as a disposal resource whose purpose is to maximise the number of people playing Dungeons & Dragons. Follow the money!)

So, after all of that, the short answer is that there isn't a specific magic-bullet solution to avoiding D&D's GM burnout problem – or, at least, not one that operates at the level of the rules, because there's no particular thing that D&D as a system is doing "wrong" that produces this outcome; the problem operates almost entirely at the play culture level.

In practice, two things need to happen:

Placing a greater expectation on the players to learn and understand the game's rules; and

Selecting a system where the gap between the story the rules want to produce and the narrative space the group wants to explore is small.

It's that second one that's the real trick. In order to minimise that gap, we need to know what kind of narrative space your group wants to explore, and that might not be something you have a good answer to if you don't have good lines of communication with your players.

(As an aside, there's a good chance that we're going to see dipsticks cropping up in the notes insisting that their favourite system short-circuits this problem by being perfectly universal and having no baked-in narrative assumptions. These people are lying to you, and lending credence to the idea that there's any such thing as a universal RPG is a big part of how we got into this mess in the first place!)

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[ask-the-pioneer]

do you remember your father?? i mean, if you remember having one as a pup

"My other parent...?"

"I don't remember them... him... at all. I'm sorry." She says as if apologizing to herself. "Mom would never talk about him, and I was too young to even understand you need a mate to have pups, or that slugcats form colonies."

Marbles is lost in her thoughts again. You keep asking questions, and it unearths some of her long forgotten memories.

"There was this one time... me, my sibling, and mom, we got to observe a big noodlefly nest. I saw their delicious eggs hanging from the ceiling for the first time. When I asked mom about it, she explained that when two noots pair up, they lay their eggs in safe places so they could hatch. Little baby noodles attach to the parent's tail for safety. «Like slugcats!», she said. So, of course my tiny child mind pressed on. «Do slugpups hatch from eggs? Can I lay an egg? Can I eat egg? Was I a good egg?». Mom put up with my nonsense, I think she found it funny... until my brilliant child brain connected the dots, and asked «if I'm an egg, then who did she make me with». She hesitated, and the brief silence mixed with the look on her face is what seared that moment into my mind. «...With your father, of course. But, he's gone. Let's go get something to eat now. You want a blue fruit? I think we can get some of them down the pipe over there...», Mom blurted out as she took my hand in hers. I followed with «Why?», but she pretended not to hear it. In the end, my mind was quickly distracted from asking any more awkward questions by the promise of a tasty meal. I can't remember any other time my second parent was brought up again..."

[ak319]

Yan G!P athlete x fem!reader

── Reece Milford

Headcanon/Intro

AN: She's here finally-ヽ（≧□≦）ノfor those of you who don't know her, she's a side character from this series.

Warnings/MDNI: none, not much in this one tho, little age gap, (reader is 20 and OC is 23-24), suggestive themes.

Where do I even begin? Reece Milford, daughter of Edward Milford, a respected real estate mogul, and Catherine Milford, a poised philanthropist who runs a foundation supporting arts and culture. Then there’s Oliver, her older brother, a sharp and ambitious lawyer. Reece is the middle child, flanked by Lily, her sweet and free-spirited younger sister. The Milford family is as sophisticated as they come each member’s life is meticulously curated, their names whispered in the circles that matter.

But Reece? She’s different. Her story doesn’t follow the same predictable trajectory. It’s on the cricket field where she truly stands out. What started at high school with local matches soon spiraled into her securing a spot on the country’s national team. The media adores her, sophisticated, charming, a heartthrob on the pitch.

In high school, it was no secret that Reece had girls vying for her attention left and right. She didn’t even have to try, her height, athletic build, and effortless charm made her magnetic. But to Reece, they were just passing faces. Sure, she’d engage in lighthearted flirting now and then, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t interested in dating, and playing around simply wasn’t her thing. Not like... a certain someone in her circle, but that was a story for another time (lmao- we all know who that is-)

Reece had always been the type to joke a little about girls, her teasing never crossing the line of respect. But if locker room talk ever got out of hand? That’s when her temper flared. She had no patience for that kind of nonsense, and more than a few people learned the hard way not to push their luck. She wasn’t just protecting some abstract principle, either, it hit close to home. With a little sister of her own, she refused to let anyone think it was okay to disrespect women.

Despite her grounded nature, rumors swirled around her. Whispers of Reece being a "playgirl" spread through jealous lips or from the sting of rejected love letters. None of it was true, of course, but she never wasted time defending herself. She knew who she was, and that was enough. Let people believe what they wanted, she had more important things to focus on.

But....despite this Reece held very specific views about women and love, and any notions of "dating" seemed trivial in the face of her goals.

As for family life, Reece barely spent quality time with her parents, especially her mother. While her dad was often caught up in his business dealings, her mom, Catherine, had thrown herself into her foundation. Prior to that, Catherine had been a full-time housewife, focused on raising the children. Reece had often been the one to suffer from the absence, not having the constant presence of her mother like Oliver did, and now, Lily didn’t have to face the same issues either. With her mom now running a larger foundation and becoming more involved with social media and community work, Catherine had less on her plate. She got to spend more time with Lily. But Reece, as the middle child, felt somewhat forgotten as she didn't experience that with Catherine as a kid and now was often at odds with her parents, especially her mother.

As time went on, Reece's views began to shift. She became firm in her belief that women should focus on the home, that their place was to care for children, nurture the family, and run the household. To her, the idea of being a "housewife" wasn’t a limitation, it was a duty, a role that held strength in its own right. Reece swore to herself that no matter what, she would never allow her wife to treat their children the way she had felt, neglected, forgotten, caught in the emotional distance of a career-driven mother.

Though the trio never discussed this but it was clear that her brother Oliver didn’t share her views, nor did her father, but that only made her resolve harder. She knew what she believed, and she was determined to make it a reality.

But the question lingers: what’s happening off the field? What happens behind the polished exterior of this icon of strength and good sportswomanship.

The truth? It’s you. Yes, you entered the picture.

Who are you, exactly?

You were just a mutual friend of Lily’s. Yes, when you and Lily grew close, you often found yourself invited to sleepovers at the Milford estate, something Lily loved, especially since their mansion was so vast, offering plenty of room for laughter and whispered secrets. It wasn’t uncommon for you to join, and given how the family was a bit overprotective of Lily, she rarely stayed at anyone else’s house.

She couldn’t explain why, but when she caught that brief glimpse of you, how shy and nervous you seemed in her presence, it made her chuckle, and something fluttered in her chest.

When you and her first saw each other in the hallway for the first time, you had just started college. Reece was 23, still grinding away in small leagues, always pushing herself, always working tirelessly with the hope of making it onto the national team. She had no interest in distractions, not in the form of dates or anything else. Her focus was singular, her ambitions far too important.

After that, she almost forgot about you. But then one night, when Lily thought everyone was settled in their rooms, preparing for bed, she saw the perfect opportunity to sneak out at 10 p.m. She assumed Reece was out with her friends, leaving the coast clear. But imagine her shock when, as you were backing your car out of the driveway, Reece suddenly pulled up and spotted Lily sitting in the passenger seat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Reece snapped, her voice cutting through the night air. “Why were you sneaking out, huh?”

"J-just to grab a bite, Reece. Nothing else-" Lily stammered, her voice trembling under the intensity of Reece’s gaze.

Reece’s eyes flickered to you, and her expression hardened. She stepped closer, her tone sharp and commanding. “And you!” she barked, making your body flinch involuntarily. “What example are you setting here? She has a curfew for a reason.”

“But we’re 20, not 15,” You spoke up and she was almost shocked at your unexpected retort but her anger overpowered her.

Reece’s gaze didn’t waver. “Listen to me here,” she said, her voice low but laced with authority. She took a few steps closer, towering over both of you, her eyes never leaving yours. “First of all, this is our family, and you have no say in what we do. It’s never safe out there, and considering your background, it’s clear your parents never bothered to teach you even the basics-”

“How dare you!” You snapped, a surge of anger flooding your chest. “God! Lily, you never told me your sister was such a jerk!” Her words really stung, aimed directly at your middle-class background.

“Well, now you know.” You could feel the hurt rising in your chest, but you didn’t fight it. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked back to the car, your emotions bubbling over.

"Wait no! (Y/N)! I AM SORRY- REECE WHAT THE FUCK?!-" Lily's protests and apologies were blocked as you slammed your door and sped off.

It was a mistake. A mistake to be friends with someone like Lily, someone from a world so different from yours. Your heart ached as you drove, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air. You cried all the way home, the tears blurring your vision, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t Lily’s fault. She had always been kind, humble, everything you admired. But Reece? She was a jackass.

Lily’s calls and messages flooded your phone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The hurt was too fresh, too raw.

Back at the Milford house, things weren’t any better. Lily, devastated by your silence, found herself hating her sister even more.

“You ruined our fucking friendship!” Lily shouted, her voice thick with frustration and hurt.

“I ruined it?!” Reece shot back, incredulous. Her voice grew louder, her anger flaring. “You’re blaming me for this?”

"You shouldn’t have been so rude to her!” Lily’s words hit hard, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

"Yeah , Reece, you shouldn't have said that to her."

"Dad, please- don't side with Lily on this one. I was just pissed and I said it! And next time she will think twice before-"

"You don’t get to dictate everything, including who I’m friends with! You can’t just go around hurting people like this!"

Before Reece could respond, Lily threw her hands up in exasperation. “I never asked for this! I never wanted you to act like this!”

With a sharp exhale, Lily stormed past her sister, her anger making the house feel smaller. She marched down the hallway, her footsteps heavy as she slammed the door to her room behind her.

Reece stood there, stunned, a mixture of regret and disbelief flickering across her face. But Lily didn’t give her the chance to apologize, she was already alone in her room, seething.

“You need to apologize to your sister, Reece. We didn’t raise you to be rude, especially to a girl. You need to apologize to both of them.” Her mother’s voice rang out, sharp and disapproving.

Yeah, right, Mom. 'Raise,' my ass.

With a bitter scoff, Reece stormed off, slamming her bedroom door behind her. She flopped onto her bed, pulling a ball from the corner of the room. Without a second thought, she tossed it up and down, her eyes unfocused, lost in thought. It was a habit she had whenever she was deep in contemplation or feeling the weight of stress, letting the ball float in the air, caught only by her tired hands.

Her mind shifted from wondering how to apologize to her little sister, to a sudden, unexpected realization, how the hell was she supposed to apologize to you?

What the fuck?

She had never apologized to anyone, ever. And you...

A part of her knew that she wasn’t just pissed at you for sneaking out with Lily, but because you had no regard for your own safety either. That’s what really made her angry. You were driving here alone, just... She took it the worst way. She focused her frustration on you.

And yet, there was something else, something that amused her. How you’d gone from the shy, skittish girl, who ran off to hide in Lily’s room the moment she saw her in the hallway, to this... straight-talking, confident version of yourself.

Cute...

"You think a takeout is gonna make things right?" Lily said, scrolling through reels on her phone.

"I’ve ordered gifts for you too."

"Don’t need ‘em."

Reece set the food down on the bedside table and sat on her bed, a hint of determination settling in.

"Give me her number."

"What?"

"I need to apologize to her. (Y/N). Give me her number. Now."

Lily hesitated, sensing the mix of gentleness and firmness in Reece’s tone. With a sigh, she sent the number to Reece’s phone.

"But... I don’t think she’ll forgive that easily. And for fuck’s sake, don’t say anything stupid. She finally went normal with me, and I don’t want you messing that up again-"

"I won’t, jeez. Eat up now."

With that, Reece walked out, unable to hide the smirk that tugged at her lips as she saved your number.

────

You were, as usual, putting the clothes in their proper places, mentally planning to get started on your assignment as soon as you got to your apartment after your shift at the boutique. Okay, next, check the bags...

"Hey."

You flinched and turned around to see Reece. You didn’t say anything, just stared at her.

"Um... I wanted to sincerely apologize... for, well, since you didn’t respond to my message-"

"So you came to my workplace?"

"I had to, okay? I just didn’t want to be the reason you have any sour feelings toward my family... or even Lily."

"I don’t," you replied, trying to sound neutral, but your heart was still racing. "I mean, they’re all very nice."

They.....Not me, huh? Don't you have a way with words...

She chuckled, clicking her tongue as she restrained herself from checking you out. Fuck, get a hold of yourself.

"I understand. I’m a jackass, a jerk, a douche. Valid. I deserve that. But please, don’t make your pretty face devoid of that smile because of me."

Okay, that took you off guard.

"Um-"

"I'll be right back, okay?" With that, she stalked off somewhere in the shop. You rolled your eyes, already knowing exactly what type of person she was: rich family, big ego--oh a customer!

Minutes later, while you were helping a woman, she popped back in, several bags in her hands, bags from not only the brand you worked for, but others around the street as well.

"Here. For you."

"What?! I’m not taking this-"

"Yes, you are. You definitely are. A token of my apology."

Every item cost more than your monthly rent. Though you were kind of touched, you reminded yourself that, at the end of the day, she had once again proved, even in her apology, that she was better than you. Yes, that’s what you felt. If she had just walked away after apologizing, that would have been enough.

"No, I am definitely not."

That took her off guard. Didn’t girls love expensive stuff?

"The apology was enough, alright? I get it, you’re rich and stuff. But you don’t need to prove your sincerity. I get it. You’re protective of Lily; she’s told me that. No need for these. Please."

Hm...

"I-I get it." Did you just fucking stutter in front of a girl, Reece? You loser.

"Um, thank you for accepting it." Her voice softened, but inside, a new thought took root.

Fuck these gifts anyway. You’re going to get that fucking ring on your damn finger, no matter what. She’ll make that happen. No way you're going to reject that.

That night her eyes had lit up when she saw that you had seen her message at least.

────

What you didn't expect was a notification pinging on your phone the next day.

"Hey, wanted to ask, can I at least take you out? A little compensation for that late grab bite you missed with Lily."

You raised an eyebrow at the text. The pickup line was casual, playful even, but something in it made your stomach twist. Was she trying to make this seem like no big deal? You sighed, knowing there was a lot more to it.

Should you ask Lily about this? She might know what was really going on....

You quickly typed a response, trying to play it off lightly.

"Hi, thanks, but it’s fine really. I’m good."

You sent it before you could second-guess yourself. But as soon as you hit send, a sense of dread crept in. Was that too dismissive? Was it rude? You didn’t want to come off that way, but this whole situation felt... off.

Reece, however, wasn’t the type to take “no” for an answer. She knew that Lily was a factor in all of this. But Reece wasn't the kind of person who let things like that stop her. No, she was determined to make sure you knew how serious she was.

"Reece, c'mon. (Y/N) just told me that-"

"Yeah, so?" Reece cut her off, a sharp edge to her voice. "Can't see your sister settling down, huh?"

The insult was quick and biting, catching Lily off guard. She flinched, a mix of confusion and anger flashing across her face.

"Settling down-?! And you? Look as much as I want to believe you saying that you don't engage in casual flings, I still find it unbelievable." Lily sputtered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Reece’s eyes darkened. "Listen here, I really, really like her, Lily. Not that you’d understand what that feels like. And don't tell me you believe everything they spewed about me. I thought you knew it."

Lily's face flushed, hands balling into fists. "No you don’t! You don’t even know what love is, it’s probably just lust, the same way you feel for every other girl-"

"Lily!" Edward spoke up, his voice firm but patient. "Can you relax? There's nothing wrong with going on a date. You should be a tad bit supportive, love. And stop doubting Reece's intentions."

"But Dad!" Lily's voice cracked with frustration. "What if she hurts (Y/N)? Didn't she had a problem with her background in the first place?"

"Enough!. I will go on a date and you can't stop me!"

Neither can you.

Oliver sighed sharing a look with his mother, leaning back in his chair, his fingers rubbing his temples. "Weekend with family always has some drama going on," he muttered, half-amused, half-exasperated.

Lily felt bad...she did. Guilty for being dubious about Reece's intentions straight from the start. You are a good, kind and fun person, not to mention her very close friend. And so she decided to make things right...by texting you.

"Reece really really likes you, and trust me, she's serious about this. I've never seen or heard bout her being this interested in someone, LIKE EVER. It's always the opposite. So do give her a chance. If you want to of course . Tbh shippin' u both already. 😛

That very Sunday's quiet evening, a knock on your apartment door caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not Reece. You opened the door cautiously, your heart sinking at the sight of her standing there, casual yet somehow imposing.

"Hey," she greeted with that trademark confidence that made your chest tighten, her smile a little too knowing. "Lily told me your address."

You froze for a second, trying to process the words, before realizing the implications. "Lily... told you?" you asked, though it came out more as a question to herself than to Reece. Of course, Lily had probably shared everything already.

"Yeah," Reece said, unbothered, her gaze steady. "I thought we could grab something light and simple. Just...it won't be long."

You stood there, conflicted. She had this way of making you feel as if saying no would be an impossibility. "Reece, I..." you started, but her eyes softened, and she took a small step forward, clearly unphased by your hesitation.

"Come on, just a little something. I won’t make it weird," she added, the final words almost playful, though there was something in the way she said it that made you question if you’d be able to say no.

You bit your lip, glancing back into your apartment. But what choice did you have? Saying no felt like inviting a new round of awkwardness, and she seemed determined. Besides, there was a part of you, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, that was curious about why Reece kept pushing. Also the fact you didn't have any experience dating. And then...Lily's message made your heart flutter too.

"Okay," you finally relented, your voice a little quieter than you intended. "But just a quick bite. That’s it."

A victorious smile spread across her face, her posture shifting from relaxed to almost predatory, but in a playful way. "Great," she said, turning on her heel. "Let’s go."

And that's how it began. You, dating Reece Milford.

────

Dating her was nothing short of a dream, really. She was caring, understanding, and, if you were honest, a total golden retriever in human form. Watching matches together, her dragging you to her practices while making you wear her shirts with her name.

She was protective, sometimes to the point of being a bit too much, but you didn’t mind. In fact, it was endearing in its own way. And if someone from high school or an old fling tried their luck again with a call or a text? Oh, they didn’t stand a chance. Without hesitation, she’d block them or, better yet, hand you her phone and insist you respond or answer the call with a simple, "She’s taken."

She recorded one of those moments once, and to this day, it’s still her favorite video. Even when you’re a bit shy and clearly embarrassed in it, she treasures it like gold, replaying it whenever she needs a smile.

She knows her family name intimidates you and she’s painfully aware that her own words might’ve made you feel insecure at times. That’s why now, every moment she spends with you is dedicated to ensuring you understand that her last name means absolutely nothing when it comes to you.

She goes out of her way to make it clear that her family adores you, too. In fact, she’s quick to remind you of how her mom can’t stop asking about your hobbies or how her dad brings up your name during family dinners like you’re already one of them.

And then there’s your own parents. Your dad, especially, was practically beaming when he found out you were dating a daughter of such a prestigious family in the city. She teases you about it sometimes, calling you her “mom's favorite,” but deep down, she loves how everyone can see what she already knew: you’re perfect for her, and no family name, no status, could ever change that.

You glance at your reflection in the car window for what feels like the hundredth time. The dress you’re wearing, a simple but elegant number Reece insisted looked "absolutely stunning" on you, suddenly feels all wrong. Too plain? Too tight? Too loose? Too… not enough?

Reece parks the car in front of the grand gates of her family’s estate, but instead of stepping out, you sit frozen, clutching your bag like it’s a lifeline.

“Hey,” Reece’s voice is soft, her hand finding yours. “You good?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to admit the truth. But she knows you too well, and the furrow of her brow tells you she’s already figured out something’s off.

“I just…” You let out a shaky sigh, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I don’t know if I’m… if I look… right for this. For them.”

Reece is quiet for a moment, and when you finally glance at her, you see her jaw tighten, her hazel eyes narrowing like she’s preparing to fight someone.

“Are you serious right now?” she asks, her voice a mix of disbelief and affection. “You’re worried about how you look?”

You nod hesitantly, avoiding her gaze. "I just… your family’s um so perfect y'know. I just..."

Reece leans back in her seat, running a hand through her hair as if trying to figure out how to respond. Her heart breaks at your sullen expression. Then, without warning, she reaches over, cupping your face gently but firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“First of all,” she says, her voice low and steady, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and always will be, and nothing anyone says or thinks is going to change that. Got it?”

You nod, though her words only make your throat tighten more.

“Second,” she continues, her thumb brushing your cheek, “my family is going to love you because I love you. And if they don’t, that’s their problem, not yours. You’re not the one who has to prove anything. You’re everything, okay?”

You manage a shaky smile, but she’s not done yet.

“And third…” She grins now, her usual playful smirk returning as she presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “If anyone even thinks about making you feel out of place tonight, they’re getting an earful from me. Got it?”

You laugh softly despite yourself, and she beams at the sound, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“There’s my girl,” she says, squeezing your hand as she steps out of the car and moves to your side to help you out. “Now come on. Let’s show them how lucky I am, yeah?”

Reece is not only your girlfriend but your own personal trainer too.

Her apartment’s (she made you move in after a month) personal gym has become your second home, or, at least, that’s what she likes to say while dragging you out of bed for "just twenty minutes of movement."

"C'mon baby, you can skip ten more. You are literally the strongest person I've met." Says your girlfriend currently bench pressing twice your weight.

She’s the kind of person who genuinely believes in balance but refuses to compromise on some essentials. Like fruits. Every. Single. Day. She’ll hand-feed you slices of apple or shove a peeled orange into your hands with a pointed look until you take a bite.

Her healthy meals aren’t just food; they’re little love notes wrapped in nutrition. Protein shakes? Homemade. Greek yogurt with berries? Perfectly portioned. Occasionally, though, she’ll surprise you with your favorite snacks because, as she says, "You’ve earned it for putting up with my bossy ass."

On the days when you feel too lazy to move, Reece doesn’t push. Instead, she adapts. She insists you keep her company in the gym because "your laugh is better than any playlist." You end up sitting on the mat with a bowl of fruit she force-feeds you because of course, “You will finish that, or so help me”, while she works out.

And if you’re feeling extra lazy, you’ll drape yourself over her back while she’s doing push-ups, giggling as she huffs and teases you about being "the cutest weight she’s ever lifted."

What makes it all worthwhile is how much she genuinely enjoys your presence. Whether you’re crushing a workout together or just lounging on the floor, her gaze always holds the same message: she wouldn’t want to be doing this or anything without you.

Reece absolutely adores the height difference between the two of you, maybe a little too much, if you’re being honest. It’s her favourite excuse to treat you like her personal doll.

When she’s in a playful mood (which is often), she’ll suddenly scoop you up, spinning you around effortlessly until you’re laughing and swatting at her arms. “Put me down, Reece!” you’ll protest, but she just smirks and says, “Not until I hear that laugh again!”

And those moments when you two disagree? She’s terrible at taking you seriously. You’re standing there, ranting about whatever it is, but all she can focus on are your eyes, especially the way they narrow when you’re annoyed.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you demand, glaring up at her.

She should be, but instead, she’s trying not to grin like an idiot. “Hmm? Oh, sorry, your angry face is just too cute."

That, of course, makes you even more pissed, which only makes her love it more. "Can you for God's sake listen and take the shit I am saying seriously?!"

Eventually, she stops your words in the most Reece way possible: by sweeping you off your feet (literally) and carrying you to the bedroom.

“REECE PUT ME DOWN! WHAT THE HELL?!”

"Yeah, yeah," she says, laying you down gently before hovering over you with a mischievous grin.

She starts peppering kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, lips, your nose, until you’re squirming and trying to push her away through your laughter.

"Stop it! You idiot!"

“There’s that smile,” she says triumphantly, finally stopping but not before stealing one last kiss on your lips. “Mad at me now?”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. "I just hate you sometimes!"

Speaking of you and the bed... Reece is an absolute softie when it comes to you. No matter how tough or confident she might seem to the rest of the world, with you, she's nothing but gentle, which sometimes is really hard for her to do when all she wants to do is wreck and eat you all up. During those intimate moments, she treats you like you're made of glass, careful, attentive, utterly devoted. And afterward, when she's finally worn herself out, she holds you close, her arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from everything else.

Hearing her teammates call her "Cap" during practice or games might boost her ego, sure. But it doesn’t even come close to the power trip she feels when she hears it from your lips, soft, breathless, or even better as a whimper, and just for her.

“Say it again,” she murmurs, her voice raspy and low, her gaze heavy-lidded as she brushes a stray strand of hair from your flushed face.

And when you do, she smirks like she’s just won a championship. To her, nothing else in the world compares to that moment, to you.

But not everything...is that easy right? Not this dreamy. And you realized this after you got the ring on your finger after 2 absolutely beautiful months together.

── AN: Dw, there will be a second headcanon or different scenarios showing Reece's toxic side as well.

[lemotmo]

People are once again going off about Ryan being homophobic. Even when Buddie gets together, I know this unfounded claim will continue 🙄

Yeah, I have seen a couple of people posting about it and the discourse around it. It seems to be mostly contained over on Twitter though. Or I have really curated my Tumblr well, because I haven't seen anything like it yet. I'm not sure which one it is.

It's a laughable accusation really when you think of it. Ryan is the one who coined the Buddie name for the ship. How many times does he have to say in an interview that he wouldn't mind the story going into the Buddie direction? How many times does he have to say that it's important to support your loved ones when they come out to you, like Eddie supported Buck when he came out? The man talked about reading Buddie fanfiction and watching Buddie edits for crying out loud. He even reposted some Buddie stuff on his Instagram.

Anyway, I have accepted that some people will never give up making the guy into some kind of villian. Mind you, he isn't a saint, but neither are any of the other actors. They're all just people, like us. We've all made some dumb mistakes in life we wish we hadn't. But that's all a part of the journey of life.

Obviously I don't know the guy. None of us do. What we know about him is all very superficial stuff, but that's okay. I like Ryan and I'd love to get the chance to chat with him one day, but I admit that I'm mostly here for Eddie Diaz and what he has going on in his life. So I'm mainly invested in Ryan's bts or 911 interviews. I'm not as invested in anything he does outside of 911.

Look, it comes down to this: if people can't look past other people's mistakes after they have done everything in their power to apologize and show them they are trying to do better? If they can't move on after they have clearly been forgiven by the people that actually know them and love them best in life? Then that's on them.

So I don't care anymore. I just block the instigators that spread nonsense like that and move on. There is nothing to be gained by engaging these people. They already have their mind made up and nothing I or anyone can say will change their opinion of Ryan. I refuse to add fuel to the discourse. It only makes the discourse more widespread and problematic.

So let's all agree to do just that: ignore, block and move on. It will make everyone's fandom experience a lot more fun, I can guarantee you that.

I'm pretty sure that is exactly what Ryan does as well by the way. Him and Oliver are very similar in that regard. They just do what makes them happy, don't share too much about themselves and live their lives, ignoring all the social media shit. Combine that with a job they both seem to love? Yeah--

Good for them.

[midnight-mourning]

Two Animatronics Dancing—Oh, and You. You're Here Too

Holiday Spirit! au Chapter 2

*peeks into tumblr, looks around, drops this and runs*

Anywho, this chapter was a bit of a struggle for a bit there, I also just randomly felt bad so apologies for the delays, please enjoy! I went for the kill :)

having said that, Content Warning: Borderline/implied suggestive content, reader discresion is advised.

Ao3 link for those who don't wish to suffer (you should come back once you're done and read the tags and take the poll tho >:)c)

Word Count: 7306

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Oh, I um—" You're still processing this is happening, you need to think, lest you make a fool of yourself in front of the king. 

You take a breath and bow. "My name is Y/N, your Majesty."

"Please, rise. After what you've done it's me who should be bowing to you." He chuckles, then waves you closer. "Allow me to thank you properly, if you would."

With a swallow, you walk forward, ignoring the tightening of the hold on your arm before it releases you finally. 

Once you make it to the carriage is when you finally pay attention to the others inside. Neither the younger prince nor the princess look happy to be there, though the princess seems to be greatly enjoying teasing her brother every few moments. The older prince seems aloof, annoyed, but when you catch his gaze he shoots a wink your way. 

Before you can think on it further the king is firmly clasping his hands around one of yours, shaking it. "Your quick actions have saved me quite the trouble. Might I ask how you had such knowledge?"

You give a—slightly mumbled—explanation regarding your work and your shop, to the king's delight. 

"Ah, so it's you who's been repairing my guards so quickly." The king chuckles. "I must say, fine work. Almost like new!"

You nod. "We try our best, your Majesty."

"I want to thank you for your work." The king announces, thinking for a moment, then snaps his fingers. "I'll be hosting a grand ball in three weeks’ time, I insist that you join in the festivities as the guest of honor."

Your eyes widen, putting your hands up. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the older prince—god you're terrible with names, what is it again?—straighten up slightly, small frown on his features as he watches his father.

"Oh, you're far to kind, your Grace. I wouldn't want to intrude—"

"Nonsense!" The king scoffs, then shakes his head. "No, I've decided. I'll see to it myself that you get a proper invitation." He turns away from you then, addressing the crowd. "Three cheers for the smithy!"

The crowd responds in turn and you feel like curling in on yourself. Not just because of the attention, but because of the King himself. There was something about him, something behind those eyes and that smile that you found off putting. Which, not the attitude to have towards a man who could wave his hand to decide your fate, but you're trying here. 

Soon after, the precession begins again, and continues without any further issue. You're still processing the entire ordeal however much later as you sit in the tavern up the street from your home and shop. Said shop having received an abundance of visitors in the past few hours.

Consisting of either new customers, curious festival goers, or fellow villagers congratulating you. 

You didn't even do anything that major, you just unplugged a few wires!

Your crew gave you hell about it, their teasing was incessant once they found out the news. 

It all had been so much that when Bri walked in your shop with the proposition of getting drinks like old times you all but jumped at the opportunity. Tossing off your apron and gloves and leaping into her arms—an old inside joke you used to play on each other—and with a laugh she carries you out of the shop and to the tavern. 

Now, here you were, the sun long gone and a pint in your hands that you've been nursing for the past couple hours. You'd have drank more if you firstly didn't have work tomorrow, and if you could manage to get a sip without being interrupted by a thank you or the likes. 

After the last person leaves, having been one of the chattier ones, you set your forehead on the bar with a groan. 

Bri pats your back with her free hand. "There, there, o great and powerful smithy. People are just being nice. Eat it up while it lasts."

"I think if I 'eat' anymore I'll burst." You say into the wood, then turn your head to the side to look at her. "It wasn't even that big a deal, I don't know why he made it seem like such."

Bri tsks, taking a sip of her own pint. "He's the king. A major disruption happened during an event he was present for. He has to make a big deal out of it. Especially considering how bad it could have been."

You cringe at that. You'd found out after the fact that Bonnie's malfunction had caused him to not only lose control of himself, but prior to being tackled to the ground had attempted to point his weapon at the King. That had been the lone shot you'd heard, with the miss ending up in the sky instead. 

"Just be glad it's a one and done thing, could be worse in that regard."

You sigh. "True. Very true."

"You know, I wasn't expecting to see you out today." Bri looks up down to you with a soft smile. "You've come a long way."

You scrunch your nose. "Don't remind me. It's disgusting." You protest as she flicks your nose. 

"Getting through your grief isn't disgusting, you idiot. It's an accomplishment. One you should be proud of."

You sit up finally with a stretch. "Thanks. And what about you? What's new?"

"So much, and yet, nothing at all. I've missed it here though, I've been pissed off three years in a row that I wasn't assigned to come back." Bri huffs as you laugh. 

You grab your pint, taking a sip. "Guessing it's cause of the threats?"

"That's what everyone's thinking, but personally I think there's more to it than that."

That grabs your interest. "You don't say?"

"Yeah, and I'd say it's because so many animatronics have been acting up lately, but that just started when we arrived here." Bri shakes her head. "I shouldn't be talking about this, you're probably tired."

"No!" You say, then cough, trying again. "I mean, no I um, find it interesting. I'm the one doing all the repair work, you know. Is that really the best you've all been able to come up with is just beating them senseless?"

She shakes her head again. "No, that I'm not entirely sure on, but I've noticed there's been a large number of bots stationed in certain locations throughout the castle, and town, for that matter. Places that just seem odd, you know?" She takes another sip of her pint, finishing it and waving her hand for another. "But I swear, it's when they come back from those locations—already a bit banged up mind you—that the glitches start happening."

You take all this in like sponge. Then, licking your lips you ask—"Which spots out of curiosity?"

"Town, just look anywhere that there's way too many guards. In the castle it's been the library, the west tower, and the—"

"And just what are you two chatting about?"

You turn in your seat, finding Sun is standing behind you both. Behind him is Moon. 

Bri laughs, twisting to face them both fully. "Well look who it is! Didn't expect to see you two shmucks tonight."

"Shmucks is a bit harsh." Moon quips. 

Sun nods. "We prefer the term bozos, or fools."

The three of them chat back and forth for a moment before Bri remembers what she was saying. 

She turns to face you again. "Oh right, you wanted to know about the guards—"

"So, celebrating are we?" Sun interrupts, taking a seat on the stool between yourself and Bri.

You attempt to lean around him, but he sets his elbow on the counter, head in his chin, essentially creating a wall between you and Bri.

You frown. "We were, before you jutted in."

His grin only widens a tinge. "That's not much a greeting, friend."

"Well, considering you just now decided to acknowledge me, I could say the same to you."

You hold each other's gaze until a hand is set on your shoulder; Moon. He sits on the opposite side of you, taking your free hand to press to his smile.

"They're right, Sun. Good evening, Diana. How are you?"

You scoff, small smirk on your lips as you turn to him a bit more, ignoring the ticking sound behind you, and the tapping—of what you know is—a golden claw. "Just because you gave a proper hello doesn't mean you're any better."

"Late is better than never." Moon argues.

You reach for your drink again with a nod. "To some extent, I agree with you."

"I'll take that." Moon waves to the bartender, surprising you.

You keep your eyes trained on the pint that's set in front of him, then to him when he raises it to his mouth, pausing to meet your gaze.

"Something the matter?"

You're in denial. "You can drink?"

"I'm older than I look." He chuckles.

Your eyes narrow. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"We're living machines. We have thoughts, feelings, and pain." Sun remarks, and you turn in time to watch him sip his own drink. "With all that considered, it be cruel to not be able to."

You twist in your seat again, genuinely curious and outright confused. Be it your own impulse or the small amount of alcohol in your system, you reach up with both hands to hold his face. He's less than impressed.

You rub your thumb's over his cheeks, brow furrowed. "What material is this? It's... spongy."

"Decided to acknowledge me now, have you?" Is his mused response.

You huff. "Let's call it even. Answer the question."

"Silicon. I believe." He puts a hand on one of your wrists. "Now are you quite finished?"

You don't care to take the hint. Still examining. "No. Why the mostly constant grins then?" You glance over to Moon slightly to be able to address both of them.

"More appealing to the public eye." Sun states.

Moon shrugs. "Laziness."

You nod, releasing Sun finally and reaching for your drink. "Never seen the like before."

"Well, seems you don't know everything after all." You must have genuinely annoyed him, you can hear a whirring sound emitting from him, just above the sound of the crowded tavern.

Moon chuckles are you bluster at this. "Who said I did?"

"That's the word going around, after the show you put on today." He offers up.

"Hardly. Believe me if I knew it was going to cause that much of a fuss I wouldn't have—" You pause, remembering the alternative. "Well, I suppose I still would have."

Moon sets down his—now empty pint—waving his hand for another. "What's done is done. You did the right thing."

"Though maybe not the wise one." Sun mutters into his mug. But before you can question him on it he's looking over you to his counterpart. "I'm not helping you back if you drink yourself into a stupor."

Moon's eyes crinkle, resting his head on the back of his hand. "Aren't you such a good friend, Sunny?"

"We're not friends." He bites, looking away, cup creaking under the force his hands apply to it.

Moon must've not been expecting that response. His grin falters, then he tsks, facing forward and taking a long drink from his pint, setting it down again with a muted thud.

Silence. Then, a realization.

"Wait a moment." You lean around Sun easily this time. "Where's Bri?"

Sun hunches further over the bar. "Dancing. Left some time ago. While you were busy 'chatting'."

You glare at him at moment but say nothing more. You'll leave him to his brooding. You twist around to face the rest of the tavern, taking a moment then spying Bri among the dancing parties.

"Why that little—" You glance back between the two animatronics.

Of the two, Moon seems in higher spirits, contently musing over his drink now. You'll take your chances on him, then.

You stand, grabbing his hand. "Come on."

"You want to dance?" He sets the mug down, surprised, but stands up.

You start dragging him out to the floor. "Hardly. I want to give her 'what for' for abandoning me, but it's a partner dance and I don't want to make a scene." You turn back to him for a moment. "That a good enough reason?"

His faceplate clicks, then his surprise turns to his normal grin, snickering. "Enough for me."

"Good."

The two of you integrate into the group seamlessly. You've never been much of a dancer, but despite this, the two of you move well together. It's some jovial, upbeat, song, and you fall in step together well. Despite being much taller—and you think maybe just a tad tipsy—Moon makes a good partner. You enjoy it more than you were expecting to.

However, you remember your goal again when Bri dances by you, not a care in the world. You make eye contact and she grins at you, speaking just above the music.

"Look at you! Thought you weren't the dancing type."

You scowl. "I'm not. You left me!"

A spin about the room, then returning to your original positions.

"Oh, you were fine. I left you in good hands." She nods to Moon. "Isn't that right?"

He nods. "Indeed."

"Of course he's going to agree with you!" You huff, then shake your head. "I'll forgive you if we can finish our earlier conversation."

"Right now?" She asks and you nod. She's not even surprised, just protests. "But I'm dancing!"

You open your mouth to respond, but before you get the chance you're spun away again. You curse under your breath, glaring up to your dance partner.

"I wasn't finished." You state.

Moon bends so you're a little more eye to eye. "I know. But this isn't the time or place."

Your frown deepens. "Just how much did you hear—"

Moon takes the lead. Or at least, more so than before. The two of you begin to dance faster, grander, more elaborate. You can hardly keep up.

One moment you're on the outer edge of the circle of dancers, but now find yourself front and center, some space having been cleared out for the two of you to take the stage. The musicians begin to pick up pace to match your energy and you can't do anything more than focus on not making a fool of yourself. Much less think.

You're about to be protest being tossed around like a ragdoll when Moon spins you back into his chest, leaning down for a moment.

"Let go and let yourself enjoy the moment." He mutters, then spins you back to face him. "For once, don't worry about anyone but yourself. Please."

The sincerity in his tone makes you hesitate. Something about it striking a familiar chord. So, you relent, relaxing and letting the song take you.

Keeping up becomes easy after that. Simple. A smile growing on your face as you take joy in seeing if the animatronic can now keep up with you. And as he picks you up for a final spin you feel something you haven't for a long time. A sense of happiness you rarely feel these days. It's in that aftermath while people are cheering all around you that your eyes meet with a face watching you from the bar.

Sun's glare is scorching, posture far too relaxed for the frown he's wearing beneath that hardened gaze. Your eyes meet and your stomach twists. Triggering some long forgotten memory with faces you can't recall and names that are still deeply buried.

When you escape it, shaking your head to move it back to the recesses of your mind, you see he's facing away again, ordering another drink.

Had you been paying closer attention you'd have realized he was watching the entire time.

"Are you alright?" Moon asks and you look back to him You envy the fact that he's not out of breath like you. "I apologize. I suppose I got a bit carried away for a moment."

You take a few deep breaths, nodding. "Fine. Just next time? Ask before assuming I can keep pace."

"Won't need to." He says, leading you off the floor as another song picks back up. "Now I know your tempo."

The night ends for you sometime after that. You'd not intended to be out very long in the first place. And with those damn guards seeming hellbent on keeping you from talking to Bri—even while intoxicated themselves—there was no point to you lingering any longer. 

So, you say your goodbyes and leave the tavern, heading home. Your head hurts, either from the stress of today, or the stress for tomorrow, and maybe because of that last pint you chose to chug before leaving. Who's to say, really?

You're ever so curious to what's happening up in that castle, now more so than ever. While there's nothing you could do about it, you can't help but be concerned for what it all might mean. Not to mention, another child went missing this evening. Just before dusk this time. If your shop hadn't been flooded with spectators you'd have volunteered yourself, instead of just letting part of your crew go.

You think it may very well have been haunting you since, hence your insistence to ask about the damage to the animatronics. It was a distractor, a way to keep your mind from wandering and fretting over the what ifs. You shake away said with ifs right then and there, your siblings are safe. And you'll do everything in your power to keep it that way.

The crunch in the snow behind you alerts you to the fact you're being followed. It's late, and you have another few streets to traverse before you can get home. So, you stop. Reaching down as if to tie your boot but in reality are grabbing your knife. It's not much, but it'll get the job done when needed. And you're hoping it's not needed.

Slipping it into your sleeve, you stand up and turn around. "May I help you—you're joking."

"You're the joke if you thought you were going to walk home alone, Bright Eyes." Sun stands behind you, his tone not being nearly as intimidating as he thinks he's being with that slight sway to his stance. 

You scoff. "Some good you'll be. I can handle myself just fine, Pretty Bot." You feel your brows shoot up at that, likely matching the look on Sun's own features you're guessing. 

He relaxes quicker than you though. "You think I'm pretty? How sweet."

"Don't start. It was merely a slip of the tongue." You scowl, but take his hand when he offers it. The nickname troubles you. But you're too distracted by him leaning down into your field of view to think on it further. 

His gaze is half-lidded again, lazy. But you can still sense a sharp wit about him. "From my understanding, drinking makes you more honest, not less."

"Then I'll be blunt with you and say it was meant to be taken as an insult, how's that?" You say, marching forward finally. It's cold out here and you don't have time for his, whatever this is.

A pause as he thinks on it, nothing but the sound of your combined footsteps in the snow.

"Hurtful, but I won't hold it against you for suddenly becoming bashful."

You huff. "That's not—"

You're cut off as Sun suddenly spins you around and into a dip, bending low.

"Don't you dare drop me." You warn. Though his grip on your hand and back are firm, secure. 

He tuts. "Oh, let me have this, won't you?" He mutters something you can't quite catch, almost seeming to be staring through you before setting you upright again. Starting to walk again without another word. You call it a bit of drunken foolishness and let it go.

The streets are eerily quiet the closer you get to home. Of course, off in the distance behind you the noises of the night market still flit about. But down the road you're traveling it's nearly dead silent. It holds a peace that soothes you and your worries. 

Temporarily. 

"You shouldn't have accepted that invitation today." 

You look up to the sunny bot, brow raised. "And I suppose you believed I had much a choice in the matter?"

"You didn't." He shakes his head. 

You scoff. "Then what should I have done then? I shouldn't have accepted but I had no other choice."

"The castle is no place for someone like you." 

Your eyes narrow. "Because I'm a commoner?"

Sun stops, turning to face you. Both hands take your shoulders as he bends so you're eye to eye. 

"Because they'll eat you alive."

You swallow, frown deepening. "You're a big help now, aren't you? Appreciate the vote of confidence." You shrug yourself out of his grip, marching on without him. 

"Wait, that's not—" There's static for a moment and he rushes to catch up with you, almost falling in step quickly with his longer legs. "Please, forgive my wording, Celeste. I'm not the most fluent at the moment."

You huff. "Yeah I can tell—What did you just call me?"

"I, I'm only—" He doesn't get to finish, as right when he manages to catch up with you again, he slips on a nonvisible patch of ice, falling back into the snow. 

When you turn to look back at him, his eyes wide, you see a slight fear in his eyes at your still hardened glare. But the ridiculousness of the situation and how overtly frazzled he looks for the first time ever, makes your burst out laughing. You clutch your stomach and throw your head back, not a care in the world for who may hear you. 

It takes you several moments to calm down enough to lower your volume to quiet giggling, looking back to him with tears in your eyes. 

"I, I haven't laughed that hard in years. Thank you."

You see his rays spin, able to do so with his hat lying abandoned in the snow. Then, he shakes his head, grumbling as he tries to collect himself to stand. 

"Here, take my hand you drunken klutz,"—you extend it down to him, giggling again while he looks for his hat—"Behind you, Pretty Bot."

He twists around, grabs it, and before you can think further his free hand grips your own, and pulls you down with him. Your eyes widen, stumbling and falling on top of him, your knees landing hard on the packed snow around his torso. 

"Ow." You groan, looking down for a moment, before glancing back up to tell him off. "Was that really necessary—" You cut yourself off, you weren't expecting to be just inches apart. 

His hand comes up to hold your cheek, eyes focused intensely on you. "Yes. Definitely." 

You just stare at each other for a moment, well, you more so at him. It finally clicks what he's looking at when his thumb swipes over your lips. Your cheeks start to burn and you cough. 

"Your hand's cold. And my knees hurt. So I'm getting up now."

You don't have to shift out of his grip, he release you himself, hand letting go as if he'd been burnt. He keeps that same troubled look on his face as you both stand up and start walking again. At this rate you'll be surprised if you ever get home. 

But, you finally turn the corner for your street soon enough, the pull of being in your bed growing stronger by the minute. 

"What did you mean that you hadn't laughed that hard in years?" Sun asks in the quiet.

You shove your hands deeper in your pockets, looking to the ground. "What did you mean by 'they'll eat you alive'?"

Silence. 

"You first."

You scoff, but relent. "I'd say it was the grief, but that's only been a year or so." You shake your head. "I lost a part of myself to someone, a long time ago. They took my laughter with them." Your hand comes up to your necklace gripping it tight before releasing it. "Your turn."

"The two you ran into on the street last week are nothing in comparison to actual nobility. They see everyone around them as lesser, including those at the same or higher ranking to them. And I fear should you attend in three week's that we won't—" Sun falters, shrinking in on himself. "That I won't, be able to protect you."

You mull over his words. "Who cares?"

"Pardon?" He looks over to you, drawn out of his thoughts. 

You stop walking, turning to him and poking a finger into his chest. "Why would anyone care what happens to me, especially you? You hardly know me."

"Hardly know you—" He stands straight now, towering over you. "Why do you have such a lack of care for yourself? And why would time matter so much regarding whether I care for your safety or don't?  I—let me ask you, that child that went missing yesterday, or the one today, do you have any connection to them?"

You shake your head. "None at all."

"And yet, you went searching for them last night, and would have tonight as well had you been able to, no?"

"Of course. Without question." You shrug. "What's your point?"

Sun stares at you a moment, then laughs, bringing his hand up to his faceplate and gripping one of the rays at the top of his head. "You've answered your own question, Celeste. And mine." He shakes his head, looking back to you. "Do your knees still hurt?"

"Terribly. Thanks a lot."

He nods. "Thought so. My apologies, allow me to remedy it." Before you can think, he's scooping you up, one arm under the back of your thighs, the other your shoulders as he carries you bridal style the rest of the way to your home. 

Flustered, you allow it to happen, assuming he'll set you down once you get to the door. 

"Do you have your key?" He asks, not setting you down. 

"I, it's unlocked."

He nods, taking a moment to open it and then bending his head to step inside. He locks the door for you, then turns around with you still in his arms. Seems he was serious about this. 

Your living room is quiet, dark, and you spare a glance at Clara asleep on the couch as Sun takes muted steps back through to your kitchen, then up your stairs when you point to them. 

"You have a lovely home." He murmurs when he reaches the top. 

"Thanks." You whisper back. "My room's at the end of the hall, but stop in the nursery for a moment."

Sun obeys, allowing you to peek in and see that Gabe and Lisa are both sound asleep. You feel lighter as Sun walks the remaining way to your room.  He sets you on the bed, stepping back once he does so. The comfort of your bed underneath you almost makes you want to flop back then and there to sleep, but you resist the urge and take off your shoes and coat. 

You get up and walk past Sun to set them by your bedroom door, snatching up your sleepwear as you do so. You walk back and around to the opposite side of the bed, staring at him as he simply looks on. 

You make a circle motion with your finger. "You mind turning around? I don't have one of those fancy room dividers."

His rays spin again, hat tight in his hands. "Oh! Um, sorry. I should, leave." He turns to go. "Have a good night—"

"Stay." You just manage to snatch his wrist, having had to climb up onto the bed and reach out for him. 

He glances back to you, eyes wide. 

You shake your head. "It's late, it's cold, and I doubt you have enough of your wits about you to make it back to where you belong alive. Not after you're little spill earlier." You chuckle, then nod. "It's fine. Stay."

His rays tick to the left a few times, then to the right. Then, he nods. "Okay."

You let him go, sitting back and he turns around once more, unmoving this time. 

"The other two going to be alright without you?" You ask as you slip out of your clothes. 

Sun nods. "I told Montgomery where we'd be earlier this evening. And Captain Perry is more than capable of handling her own." He chuckles. "And her liquor. Of the two it would be Moon that would be of concern, but they'll be fine."

You snicker. "That's Bri for yah. And captain huh? She's been busy." You realize that your knife is missing, and you start looking around for it. "Shit, where did I put that..."

"You dropped this in the snow earlier." Sun holds up your knife, still facing away. "Such a large weapon for a small thing like you."

You scoff, climbing back over the bed to take it from him. "Hardly much at all. Do you consider everyone shorter than you to be 'a small thing'?"

He snatches your wrist then, turning slightly to face you. slight grin on his features. "Truthfully yes. But especially those who take more risks than they should, like an immature teenager."

"I'm two seconds away from headbutting you right in that smart mouth of yours." You mutter. 

"Proving my point~"

You take your wrist, and your knife back. "You know. I could have still been half-dressed. Then you would've seemed like a creep just now instead of slightly humorous."

That stupes him. He stutters out a rebuttal as you set your knife on the nightstand on the left side of the bed, laying back on it a moment later. 

"Well? Don't just stand there." You pat the bed beside you. "You're sleeping in here so I can keep an eye on you."

It takes him a moment, then he sits down with a tsk. "I have no reason to harm anyone in this house."

"I have no reason to trust your words." 

Sun removes his boots, then reaches up to unbutton his coat, revealing a white undershirt soon thereafter. "You trust me in your home but you don't trust the things I say?"

"Action speak louder than words." You quip as he folds the coat, setting it on the end of bed with his hat. The last thing he removes is the claw from his index finger, setting it on the nightstand on his side. "Not the gloves?"

"You wouldn't like my hands." He says, laying down, then turning over to face you. 

You remember the feeling of that claw on your face earlier in the night. You wonder what's so wrong with his hands if he believes they're any worse than that. 

"You're bed is small."

You huff. "It's not built for nine foot tall animatronics, you mean."

"Just eight, though I know someone of your height and stature could hardly tell. The entire world must feel large to you." He snickers as you roll your eyes. 

You feel bold, your last minute drink seeming to hit you now of all times. You grabbed his clothed shoulder, pulling him closer. "Then curl up a bit then. Make the most of the space."

Before he can protest, you reach down and pull his legs up, and then entangle with yours. 

Seeing his wide-eyed, open-mouth stare you scoff, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. "What? You think you're the only man I've shared a bed with? Only person for that matter? I was stuck in the nursery with Lisa for seven years, and she is simultaneously a cuddler and a kicker."

"I, I s-see." Is his only response. 

Now you can't ignore the burning across your face and ears. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

"Weird? I'm not making it weird, you're the one who's bringing it up!"

"Because you're giving me that look, stop it!" You hiss.

His hands come up and over his face, muttering something. 

Your face is on fire now. "Since when are you bashful? Seriously, this is nothing—"

"Your knee, Celeste. For the love of the stars, move your knee." He manages to get out. 

You glance down. "What—oh." You quickly pull it back towards your body. "Sorry."

"I can't understand you." He shakes his head, finally letting go of his face. "Not in the slightest bit."

"Maybe that's intentional." You chuckle as he scoffs. 

Sun glances over to you again, resting one hand by his head. "You're incredibly smart and yet, so foolish. Selfless to a fault and again, foolish because of it. You cautious to trust anyone, and yet you'll invite them into your home and your bed, and then act as if it's nothing! I just, you're so confounding."

"Would you like to know a secret?" You ask in the quiet. 

"I suppose I have nothing better to do."

You laugh softly. "I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes. Life's complex, it's made me complex. Even I can't wrap my head around it sometimes." You shake your head, looking away for a moment then back. "There's just, something about you that made me decide you should stay. And that's all there is to it."

Sun nods after a moment or two. Then—

"That's a piss poor answer, Bright Eyes."

The days that follow are filled with you doing your best to evade the two animatronic guards. Not because of what happened that night with either of them, though. Rather, you're trying to find out what's happening to their compatriots after your tip from Bri.

It's nothing more than a curiosity at first, but it occurs to you that they're actively trying to stop you from investigating further. Which only serves to take your curiosity to genuine interest, then to zealous inquisitiveness that almost starts to eat away at you a bit. Every nook and cranny you seek to turn over, they're there to lead you away or distract in some manner from it. The elephant in the room has doubled in size, and it's only a matter of time before it breaks through the floorboards, sending you all tumbling down. 

Not to mention, every night, like clockwork, there's a report of another missing child. The total number having grown to six. Everyone's in a panic, and very little can be done to soothe the worries of those who are fortunate enough to still have all their children accounted for. Yourself included. 

Despite their overall annoying presence the past week, you cannot deny that you do feel safer having one of them nearby while you go to and fro with your siblings in tow. 

There's something going on here, and you don't know the connection point but something has to be related between all of this, there's no way there isn't some link. The disappearances started occurring after the festival began, and Bri told you there wasn't these glitches happening back in the capital. But what relation the two have to each other, you don't know. 

And how the two guards watching your every move fit into it, you couldn't make sense of that in the slightest. 

"Musing to yourself, Diana?"

"Something like that." You mutter into your cup.

You were sitting on a bench near the grand tree in the town square. Lisa had asked you if you could visit the festival again today, and needing a bit of break yourself—for more reasons than one—you agreed. 

Gabe's sitting on the ground beside you, playing in the snow, while Lisa dragged the sunnier of the two guards out to dance with her among the others gathered in the square. Though, he didn't seem to mind. To his credit, he had seemed to prove to you he was good with kids.

Moon as well, as he bends down to toss some snow on Gabe's legs. Your little brother giggling and smacking his gloved hands into it. 

Moon sits up again, chuckling and nodding to your mug. "With how tightly your gripping that, I'd say you need something stronger."

"Shit. Sorry." You relax your hold. 

He takes it from you, taking a drink himself. "No need to apologize to me. It's not my mug."

"There's just, a lot on my mind." You sigh and lay back against the bench. "Too many things happening in what's supposed to be a quiet village."

"A lot of them aren't your problem though, are they."

You scoff. "They are and they aren't. Your pals are coming in to me by the dozen daily. Can't help but wonder as to why. Because we both know there's more than just, glitches, happening."

"And why do you think that?" There's still a cheekiness to his tone, but there's an edge of something else underneath. 

You look over to him. "Because neither of you have shown up once in over two weeks. I'm getting repeat customers by now, and yet, not a lick of damage to either one of you. I've been checking."

Moon stays quiet, but you hear the tiniest little creak on the mug. You continue. "And I think we both know this is past the point of coincidences. Wouldn't you say?"

He doesn't. He says nothing at all as he hands your mug back and you take another drink, downing the remaining warm liquid.

"And besides that, my bigger overall concern is keeping my siblings safe, first and foremost." You reach down and ruffle the hat on Gabe's head, eyes on Lisa as she spins about, not a care in the world. "I'm starting to worry about how well I'm able to do that."

You're surprised by a touch to your shoulder, jumping as you see Moon's much closer now. 

With a tenderness you weren't expecting at that moment, his hand moves to your cheek, words murmured, but firm. "Nothing is going to happen to them. I won't allow it. We won't allow it."

"You can't guarantee me that." You counter. 

"I can and I will. Rest assured, your siblings are safe, but if you keep up this meddling then—"

"Then what, Moon?" You feel your frustration rising again, but keep your voice even. "What do you know that you're so obviously hiding? What are you trying to keep me from finding out? Are you in on this? Should I be scared?"

This angers him, grip tightening just a tinge. "No, never! How could you think such a thing?"

"You haven't give me much reason to think otherwise based on your actions—ah!" You jump, pulling back after feeling a sting against your cheek. Reaching up, you touch the spot, pulling away to see a small speck of blood. 

Looking over to Moon, he's horrified, eyes wide as he stares at your hand. 

"Selene I—" He reaches out for you, then sees the claw and buries his hand against himself. "I'm so sorry."

You put your hand to the spot again, an even smaller drop appearing on your finger. It was just a prick. A tiny one. You relax. "It's fine. You hadn't meant to."

"That's no excuse." He searches around, finding a handkerchief on his person and handing it to you.

You wave him away. "There's no need for that—"

He takes your hand, setting the cloth in it and folding your fingers around it. "Take it. Please." He squeezes your hand gently before letting go. 

You raise the handkerchief to your cheek, holding it there for a moment before pulling away. However, Moon insists you keep it there for longer, pressing his own hand against the back of yours for a bit to ensure you do. 

"I apologize for accusing you. It was wrong of me." You say, watching the dancers once more. 

Moon chuckles, it's half-hearted. "You have a right to be suspicious. I understand."

"That's no excuse." You repeat his words from earlier, glancing back to him with a small smile. 

It takes him a moment, then he laughs again, more genuine this time. 

"Hey! Time's up!"

Both of you turn to see Lisa standing in front of you, hands on her hips. 

You raise a brow. "Time's up for what?"

"It's my turn to hang out with Mr. Moon!" She says, huffing. "He promised he'd help me build a snowman for the competition!"

Moon laughs, standing up. "I was going to keep my promise. But I didn't want to interrupt your dancing."

Your sister turns to you pointing at you, then behind her. "It's your turn to dance with Mr. Sun."

"I, what?" You ask. "Lisa I'm not—"

She grabs your free hand, pulling on you with a strength no eight year old should have. "Hurry up! He's going to look silly if he doesn't have a partner when the next song starts!"

"Go on, I'm more than capable of watching them both." Moon urges and helps you to your feet. "Allow me the chance to prove that I mean what I say. If you may."

You glance back to him for a moment, then over to where Sun stands, sending you a wave with a mischievous glint in his eye. He did this on purpose. You turn back to Moon with a nod, offering him back his handkerchief, he shakes his head. 

"Keep it. I have no need for it."

You nod again, stuffing it in your pocket and looking down to your sister. You flick her forehead and she protests, releasing you finally. You bend down to her height, stern. "Have fun, but behave." You ruffle her hand and stand up again. "Love you."

She grumbles out a 'Love you too' and runs over to Moon, who picks up your brother. You give them a final wave goodbye as you walk over to where Sun stands, hands behind his back, grin as wide as ever. 

"You're not clever." You quip. 

He rolls on the balls of his feet, then offers his hand to you with a bow. "And you, owe me a dance."

"Keeping score are you?" You take his hand and he leads you into a spin amongst the other dancers. "I'd say you're well ahead if that's the case."

Much like his counterpart, he dances well, leading you effortlessly through the song. "Ah, ah. Let's keep that little bit of information to ourselves, shall we? We wouldn't want the wrong people to hear about it."

You laugh, shocked. "And you're cheating! My, my. I took you for a lot of things, a cheater wasn't one of them."

"Cheating implies I've done something unfair, but is it unfair if he was doing it first?"

"'He started it!'" You mock. "That's you, that's what you sound like."

Sun hums, but you see that small twitch in his eye that makes you grin. 

"You're better at this than I'd thought you be." He examines. 

You huff. "I take it back. Now you're losing severely."

"That's not up to you to decide." He thinks for a moment. "But if it was, are you say, open to bribery?"

You laugh outright, and shake your head. Maybe Moon was on to something when he said you should just let go when you dance. Let it take your worries away for a while and just enjoy the moment. 

Because wow, if it isn't something when you do.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

And to think, we still have four more chapters :D Just you wait, it gets so much worse. (for you. me personally? having the time of my life)

Well, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

Bonus:

I left it up to fate that Sun would spend the night, like deadass (proof below)

So you can thank the wheel for that.

Buuuuttt I have another thing I'm debating (not nearly as intimate don't get getting ideas on me now) So,

What this was for will be revealed in the next chapter, and your implicit biases WILL be shown and i WILL tease you all for it /j

[musette22]

I don't know why, but I keep seeing fans who say they're stucky fans but they seem to like one guy and hate the other. Like some Bucky fans complain about how Steve abandoned Bucky and wasn't nice to him, and some Steve fans complain every time you talk about Bucky and his trauma, going 'What about Steve!?' It feels like you have to pick one or the other. It feels almost weird that I love about care about both of them. Why is that so difficult? Why can't you just enjoy the characters and how much they love each other?

Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear you'be been struggling with this! That sounds very tiring and a bit upsetting. First of all, I have to admit that I don't really share your experience, which might have something to do with the people I follow and the fandom bubble I'm in, in which most people share my own mindset and preferences. I almost exclusively know and follow people on here who, like me, love both Steve AND Bucky equally, and who either ship Stucky or at least care a lot about their relationship. So in my experience, everyone is just enjoying the characters and how much they love each other! I'm not saying this to be like "what are you talking about", by the way, but more to show you that it is possible to enjoy both characters and how much they love each other, without people coming at you from all sides <3

Having said that though, I am of course aware of the widespread Steve criticism (if not to say hate) that got a lottt of traction after Endgame (which, fuck Endgame), but I am personally of the opinion that if someone really thinks Steve would abandon Bucky like he did in Endgame, and you blame the character for that decision rather than the writers etc, then you don't know Steve at all, ergo your opinion on him is void, as far as I'm concerned. If I see people saying nonsense like that on here, I will either roll my eyes or just block them outright, to protect my peace. And that works really well, generally speaking.

As for Steve fans going "What about Steve!?" when you want to talk about Bucky - Although I'm sure there are some Steve fans who prefer Steve over Bucky or even don't really care about Bucky (which is wiiiiiiild to me, because how can you say you care about a character but not care about what that character cares about most at all??), generally speaking, I don't know that I see people asking "But what about Steve" as an inherent dismissal of Bucky, or people expecting others to choose sides? It may well be the case sometimes, but I doubt that's always what it means, you know? Perhaps that helps?

I think that in the fandom spaces we're in, Bucky is a lot more popular and loved as a character (especially these days, post EG) than Steve is, which makes sense considering Bucky's kind of the perfect blorbo, and there is still new Bucky content coming out, and, of course, he is just really fucking amazing and loveable. But yeah, there is no shortage of Bucky love or discussion in this fandom, which I am personally delighted about and will always do my best to contribute to as well because he is my forever blorbo too. But I guess I can see why people would sometimes feel like Steve is not quite getting the love he deserves, you know? Still though, if someone goes "But what about Steve!?" on a post that is about Bucky, that is just very annoying and unnecessary, I totally agree. If people feel that way, they should make their own post about it, not hinder others in their Bucky loving!

I do get hate sometimes from people who say I don't appreciate the characters enough on their own because I always discuss them as a package deal, but frankly, I don't really give a damn about that. I am a Stucky shipper first and foremost, and for me, these characters ARE just inextricably connected. A Steve without Bucky by his side, or a Bucky without Steve by his side, just doesn't feel right to me, which is one of the reasons why I choose not to watch any post-Endgame content. And if others have an issue with that, well, then that's their issue, not mine.

So perhaps you could try and apply that kind of mindset to your situation as well, anon? Focus on loving our boys, equally, and together, and don't let anyone get in your way! The block button and tag filters are your best friends, and following the right people - people who are kind and reasonable and who share your mindset - is essential. I don't know if this helps at all, and do let me know if you want to talk about this some more, but I hope this is useful in some way! Sending love and hugs, and ALLLLL of the love for both our beautiful boys ❤️

[astralikacastle]

The SUPER classic RPGs, roguelikes. There's a lot of numbers-nonsense and system-abusing that ends up in those in chasing philosophies of Complete Simulation over realistic simulation, and I can't say I have a lot of good opinions on how to handle trying to balance that and make it feel good beyond adding more stats that weapons can give you, or... Something. Honestly even just handling the idea of distance a little; a penalty to an opponent's ability to attack multiple times? A lot of my thoughts were around more Final Fantasy flavor turn-based RPGs like Final Fantasy, and actionly stuff like darkened souls and monstered hunters.

And on the idea of weapon fantasies and how they can appear in very unrealistic ways, because in the real world you're so right, the dagger is an absolute backup weapon and there are absolutely choices that in a straight fight are WAY better, and it's usually the distance afforded you with polearms, but to what level does your fantasy also include that in real life, it's pretty easy to just immediately do the kind of damage that renders someone's ability to fight significantly hampered, for possibly forever? Versus, say, combats that involve rising to greater odds, surviving heavy blows, and winning by a hair's breadth, only to be able to come back very quickly from those injuries through magickal restoration and basic recuperation in equal measure? And, for that matter, the way people in full plate moved with much more agility than in fantasy, where the heavy armor is seen as turning you into a sort of Bulwark able to get hit dozens of times without any seeming effect? (Angband seems to, or claims to, be based on Tolkein's work, which makes some of these abstractions seem a little absurd, but in something trying to be more High Fantasy, designing away from realistic combat makes more sense!)

And with the way the image of the assassin, the 'cloak and dagger', gets transformed into that image of Pure Skill And Swiftness, I can't say I'm against the idea of daggers being the kings of speed in weaponry in more classic RPGs, but that should usually come with some other trade-off that can make them not feel worth it without really Leaning Into Some Aspect. Similarly, when you want each option to have its own quirks and let people enjoy trying to build into whatever weapons match the images in their fantasy, you want there to be tradeoffs for certain weapon Types. Maybe polearms grant you greater defense, or are able to reach/do equal damage to The Back Line in games that simulate that basic level of strategy, like some of the super-nintendo era RPGs. (Or just go full high fantasy and make the polearm the one people use like a fuckin' pogo-stick, soaring into the air and plunging into you! The super-acrobatic weapon!!!)

I'm also reminded of a thought that came up when blumineck was talking about bows in action games, and that's trading off realism for Tests Of Skill. Bows have WAY higher range in real life than in many games depicting them, but that dropoff (while also good for practical engine concerns e.g. not having to render enemies a thousand feet away from the player) can help enforce a digital feeling of Skilled Headshots. In a more actiony type of game, you also get a lot of weapons that are treated as being Heavy and Slow despite real-life usage being far quicker than one might expect. Polearms, in that respect, might be depicted as being faster than weapons with similar reach, but with more of an emphasis on spacing (hitting an enemy too close to you ends up smacking them weakly with the handle,) or trading off sweeping strikes and focusing on those pointed thrusts, both of which put more emphasis on harsher checks of skill if you end up fighting multiple foes at once where a sword ends up more easily hitting all three (cuz, well, they don't simulate the way hitting someone *really* stops the momentum of your weapon.) And still we're in games where you frequently hit someone a good number of times before they actually fall, and where their ability to fight doesn't seem affected until the very moment they drop to zero.

Idunno, it's fun to think about those differences when abstracting into fiction and leaning into the ways you might make things Feel Different and Equal to allow the fantasies, and also how to incorporate the real to fuel the fiction!

(Almost non-sequitur levels of tangent, older editions of D&D (and by extension Pathfinder) as TTRPGs give polearms the ability for you to hold them up as a counter to e.g. people or animals charging straight at you with all their weight; was that actually something people regularly did in real life, say, hunting?)

RPG DEV: hello... we've put a lucerne hammer into our game. ME [LEANING FORWARD IN THE THRONE OF JUDGMENT]: yes? RPG DEV: yes, we have modeled it in such ways as we felt appropriate, aesthetically and mechanically. ME: ...go on, please. RPG DEV: well you see, if you are playing as a "Human Soldier Warrior" or similar, you would probably be better served in combat by wielding a dagger. ME: would i? RPG DEV: yes. on account of the quickness and extra attacks. ME [LEANING BACK AGAIN AND CROSSING MY LEGS SUCH THAT THE CUSTOM EMBROIDERY ON MY BIG DYKEISH BOOTS IS NOW CLEARLY LEGIBLE AND SEEN TO READ "THE BIG LUCERNE HAMMER LOVER"]: i see. ME: you have allowed your perceptions to be poisoned. you have created a falseness to further seep these poisons into the world. there is nothing for it. ME: you must do it again but correctly this time.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I think WME will keep her until she finally releases the ARO products and see if some brands are interested to partner with her, that’s why I think they are helping her with the ‘positive’ bots and lots of likes in some posts (the full PR). I think they believe the show can be life-opportunity changers. Do I believe it will be very successful!? Nop, but I think it can open some doors at least with mid-brands. But it has been very curious to see that she signed with them almost 2 years ago, and nothing BIG has arrived to her, so maybe this is the new strategy from them: gashlight people how adorable she is and she isn’t attacking people anymore and to show they brands she left the toxicity behind. I doubt they can achieve much (since many are calling her out for being fake and not being able to read the room since are accusing her of making her target audience other rich people)

But it’s honestly so funny how they went from: we made deals with Netflix and Spotify because we needed money to pay security and we will be producing content that inspire and help the voiceless people to Polo and MM’s narc content.

See, I think the full IG and show on Netflix was expected, but it’s so hilarious that they stop pretending that they would be doing humanitarian content. They only do some ‘engagements’ here and there for their Archewell nonsense and for their ‘office website’ but most of the time it’s about Netflix and their self serving stupidity.

This was always Meghan's goal - to highlight herself and promote herself. Everything that has been "made" (The Bench, Archetypes, Harry & Meghan, the new show, her "official" return to social media, exclusive interviews to Oprah and The Cut, the awards they've bought, the NYT editorial, 40x40) has been about her and promoted her, front and center.

Any content that doesn't feature her, she makes it about her - Invictus Games, red carpet galas, secret birthday parties/vow renewals for friends, Spare. And any content where she can't make it about her? She pulls her support and launches a very heavy-handed tactical "poor me" defense that inserts her into the public narrative - Harry's lawsuits and the BRF, for example.

So the new Netflix show is nothing more than yet another entry in Meghan's narcissistic "it's all about me" show. She's just finally revealed the curtain obscuring the second half of her "it's about being in service to others" statement to reveal: it's about being in service to others because it makes me money and I look good.

Also, I can't believe I didn't pick up on this sooner but Meghan's new commentary that her show is about bringing joy back and making joy again? It's very reminiscent of Kamala Harris's/the Democratic Party's "politics of joy" strategy for the 2024 election. Now I'm not getting into politics and this is NOT inviting political commentary, but Meghan has never once spoken about "this is my era of joy" until after the Democratic Party coalesced around Harris's strategy of joy in late July.

And when did Meghan start talking about "her joy"? August 19, 2024, on her final day of Colombia. Almost a month after "joy" galvanized American social media trends and mainstream press. So putting on my tinhat, Meghan's new campaign for joy feels very much like her usual 'day late and a dollar short' crash onto the bandwagon.

But will it work for her? I don't think so. Because Meghan's joy comes from ego and narcissism. Not the actual enjoyment of things.

Look, I have no problem if Meghan finds joy in pretty flowers or baking cakes or hosting friends for special lunches. My problem is that she demands to be lauded for being kind enough to share that with us...which makes me wonder if she really finds joy in pretty flowers, baking cakes, and hosting friends for special lunches or if she finds joy in commercializing that for money, attenton, and headlines.

Because if she truly found joy in these things...it wouldn't be a Netflix show. She'd just be living her best life out there in Montecito, not caring a single thing about everything and anything else, and she certainly wouldn't be cosplaying British Duchesses in long floral dresses.

[bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades]

Can you talk more about you gravity falls sitcom it seams interesting

Of course!! I like to explore the actual "show" (creation and filming) part of it a little, too:

it would be animated, of course

Logistically (and perhaps legally?) this would be impossible, but it would be interesting if it was marketed and rated as a children's show at first, right in the 4 pm after school slot, but slowly moved later in the night, and slowly going from a TV-G rating to a TV-Mature rating. This is not addressed outside of the fact that it happens.

The second half of the second season would have a terrible, terrible, nearly unwatchable dark color palate. This sparks terrible debate amongst fans of the show but everyone keeps watching it anyway

Bill's voice actor is the same as many of the minor/background characters, but this remains uncredited and unconfirmed. The voices are distinctive enough throughout the first season or so, but as the episodes progress, the characters all start to sound the same. Their appearances start to blend together, their eyes turning dull yellow and smiles becoming uniform and just-too-big. The animators deny any same-face-syndrome accusations. They say it's a "TV graphic" issue.

The animators, storyboard directors, and producers are quite active on social media. As the show progresses, they start to post stranger and stranger things--- made-up languages, drawings of strange runes and sigils, nonsensical prophecies and claims. When asked (online or in person), they deny ever making the posts, even when presented with them. They claim "glitch" or "photoshopped"

At a panel at a convention, the voice actors for the show all show off their matching triangular tattoos. When a fan jokingly reminds them that Bill can watch them at all times now, the actors all laugh nervously and quickly move on to the next question.

In the first episode, there is a small, off-beat joke about Stan and Ford's pet axolotl, which lives in a too-small and honestly terribly managed tank; this is extremely out of character for both of them (they care for pets deeply at all other times). The axolotl is never brought up or mentioned again in the show. When asked about it at a convention, the director gets very defensive, to the point of almost throwing out the person asking the question. People don't bring up the axolotl again.

[elfieafterdark]

All right, 353 a.m. is the perfect time to talk about Commander fucking Wake. Embrace yourself for some stream of consciousness on the chaddest woman to ever live (/neg), the peak of toxic masculinity (this is just a joke)

First of all, can we all appreciate a woman who hates something so much that she becomes that thing, to kill the thing? Can we appreciate a woman who hates necromancers so much that she pilots around a necromancer's corpse, just for a chance to kill God 2.0?

Elaborating a little further, it's incredible that a bunch of 10,000-year-old virtually immortal assholes hold her in such high regard, considering that she's just a normal person. Wake doesn't have any special powers other than the power of her unyielding rage.

Woman literally too angry to die, guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree huh?

But really, she is the literal antithesis of motherhood. She didn't intend to get herself pregnant, she wanted to use some random eggs to create her baby bomb. When there were no other options, she dated herself, which I guess is admirable but damn. DAMN!

Ma'am, you don't have to slam the entire baby against the blood rune you know right? Just a little bit will do? Ma'am? Ma'am put down that baby.

Putting the jokes aside for a minute, she is so devoted to her cause that she is willing to murder her own daughter. And it's time for me to reverse my narrative here, because that's fucking horrifying.

Jesus h Christmas in a handbasket what the fuck? Girl must be immune to oxytocin, because that's the most unhinged shit imaginable.

And yet, there has to be just a little bit of humanity left in her. When she sees Harrowhark with her daughter's eyes, KNOWING that Gideon is inside her, she seems happy. Tasmyn even mentions as much in the narrative.

I don't have the answers for this character, and I seriously doubt we're going to get them. Which just makes her so fucking compelling to me, what the hell makes her tick?? I absolutely need to know.

If anyone else has any opinions or theories on Wake, feel free to reblog or comment or whatever 💖 I'm going to try to be more active again now that it's the new year. So expect more TLT nonsense.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Question, new watcher to miraculous. Why are the kwamis in the chinese miracle box not chinese? And I know that it has the zodiacs, but their powers sometimes intersect with each other, and some of their themes/aspects somehow doesn't connect with the animal that the kwamis are being represented with. Like Pollen with action, I heard that it used to be subjugation which I think fits better with the bee theme. Anyways, what I am saying is, why is the magic system of miraculous so messy and cluttered?

Run, newbie!!! Run!!! Save yourself!!! Don't be drawn in!!!

In all seriousness, your best bet is to pretend that the miracle box isn't tied to a specific culture because it's culture as decoration and nothing more. There is no deep logic to anything about it. I'd even go so far as to label it cultural appropriation because of how surface level it all is. A child watching the show won't even learn what the Chinese zodiac is because no one ever refers to the Kwamis as such or discusses what the zodiac is or even uses the word "zodiac." That's all a fanon addition.

I've talked about this in way more depth in the past, so here are a few relevant posts from my "lore discussion" tag. I'm pretty good at remembering to use that one when I feel like a post adds something new to the topic, so feel free to browse, just note that it's about all the lore and not just this part of it. Note that some of the chosen posts reference each other, so I'm just giving them to you in chronological order to save you some time.

Post 1

Post 2

Post 3

The bee did indeed used to be subjugation and was retconned to action for some reason. I've heard that it was to be something more accessible to kids, but we've still got things like Jubilation and Transmission in the roster so I'm not sure if that's true. If it is, it's silly because we've still got things like Jubilation and Transmission in the roster.

As for why there are all the repeat powers and other such nonsense, as best I can tell, they didn't actually come up with any lore for the Kwamis' powers outside of Tikki and Plagg and maybe some of the original five that also inhabit the top of the box (bee, peacock, butterfly, turtle, and fox). All of the other powers were made up on the fly and based around trying to fit the power to the kid who would get it since the show took the approach of "if you don't have enough for everyone, then you don't have enough to share with anyone." Great for candy, terrible for magical items.

Rose is optimistic so she gets a power that's basically optimism, Nathaniel the artist gets a creation power, and so on. This is, of course, a terrible way to approach lore as you're not trying to balance your magic system in the slightest. You're just making shit up as you go, meaning you get contradictory powers and repeats and all other kinds of crap. I've talked about this a few times around different powers, but I'm particularly fond of this lecture dunking on the peacock because I hate it so much.

[carlottastudios]

CarlottaStudios's Unhinged Kaeya Lore Thoughts Post

Link to read the Google Doc:

AT LAST!!! TUMBLR KAEYA NATION, BEHOLD, THE NONSENSE THAT HAS BEEN OCCUPYING MY KAEYA-DEDICATED BRAINPAN FOR MONTHS!

Quick disclaimer/warning: This document is LONG, it's almost 50 pages, so please don't feel pressured to read the whole thing, especially not in one shot. Also, I have included some disclaimers at both the beginning and end, including the fact that I am not an expert in any of the stuff I've written about in this document and if I have made any mistakes, I apologize, feel free to offer corrections, so long as we're all nice to each other. That said, I don't plan on adding substantially more to this document (ex: a new section) as this isn't and was never meant to be The Kaeya Lore Fodder Post of all time. This is just me taking my lore/theory-adjacent thoughts on Kaeya and yeeting them into the void to see if anyone else is interested.

Speaking of interested persons, a few people have expressed interest in this and even asked me to tag them, which is INCREDIBLY flattering and touching (seriously, thank you so much), so I'm tagging them here: @thenerdhoard @eternal-dokja @prophecyflame @mosamosa3pakosh

I plan on eventually making a mindmap to go along with this word document, but that will be for another day because this was already quite a big project to undertake and I need some rest. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

[lightningboltreader]

Char's Top 2024

I’ve combined several tag games into one post of my top most visited, favorite, moodboarded fic of the year with a song: From 6/21/2024:

The Delicate Place 3k, G

TK wakes up unexpectedly in the arms of his best friend, Carlos. Feelings are realized.

TK wants to reach over and comfort him.

It’s a surprising thought. It’s not like they avoid all physical touch, but TK’s never felt such a strong urge to take Carlos’ hand in reassurance. There’s something so precious in the space between them, something delicate and meaningful here. It adds to the many ways TK cherishes his friend and all they have together, making his heart feel like it’s going to burst. It’s like they know each other on a deeper level now. Like after this vulnerability nothing could keep them apart.

If I say a cliche it's cuz I mean it / We can't walk away / We gotta get in between it / And when you wake up / We'll grow together / So don't you give up / We've got the time to take the world / And make it better than it ever way / That's what they'll say about us

TK lays awake thinking of all the ways he loves Carlos without allowing himself to think of it as being in love. These lyrics align with his heart, which is ready to say I’ve always loved you! I always want to sleep like this! Wake up so we can start the rest of our lives together.

Thanks to those of you who tagged me recently, including @carlos-in-glasses, @strandnreyes, @heartstringsduet, @herefortarlos, @alrightbuckaroo, @bonheur-cafe, @tellmegoodbye, @whatsintheboxmh, @henrygrass, @everlastingday, @lemonlyman-dotcom @reasonandfaithinharmony @paperstorm @lutavero

Please accept this open tag if you want to share a 2024 look back of any kind, from moodboard to favorite fic to song to celebrations or jokes.

I'm so happy you're here and have taken the time to interact with me. I can't wait to watch, rewatch, scream, publish, read, beta and share more nonsense with you in 2025.

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.