#era: gentlemen game

[earlgraytay]

So, you've probably all seen this post going around, about how The Chuds Want Gentleman's Clubs (but can't afford to go to the things called "gentlemen's clubs" today, so wouldn't have been able to in the past either). And I hate to say it, but that post isn't accurate.

The things we call "gentlemen's clubs" today and the things that were called "gentleman's clubs" in the past are not the same thing; the one is descended from the other, but they used to be a lot more common and served a purpose that they don't really serve anymore.

The modern equivalent of the historical gentleman's club isn't the thing currently called a gentleman's club; it's the premium airport lounge. And by losing the concept for all but the turbo-rich, I think we genuinely have lost something! Let me explain.

(NOTA BENE: This is mostly about England and from about 1880-1930, and most of my experience with this is from fiction written in that era. I know enough to know what I don't know, but I also know menswear guy is wrong about this.)

So- gentlemen's clubs started in *wiggles hands* the late 1700s, and mostly served a particular purpose: they were places you could stay in a city if you mostly lived in the country, instead of staying in lodgings or owning your own place. Finding a place to stay in London was kind of a misery at the best of times, and owning your own house in Town wasn't practical for a lot of people, even rich people. If you were, say, a young man, just starting out in life, and you hadn't inherited your father's wealth but also weren't set up to live on your own? Having a place you were guaranteed to be able to stay was a fucking godsend. And as time went on, even people who lived in London most of the time started joining clubs, because they served another important purpose- they were a place you could go if you didn't particularly want to be at home, for whatever reason.

The way that historical gentlemen's clubs worked is, you got recommended to the club by a friend who was a member, you paid dues to the club, and in exchange, you'd get to use the club's facilities. * Most gentlemen's clubs had, at minimum, a dining room (with waitstaff, natch), a library, a couple of nice places to sit and hang out, a game room, and a bar. Many of them also had rooms you could sleep in overnight, fitness equipment, or stuff related to the club members' interests. Most of them had a room or two where you could invite friends who weren't part of your club and spend time with them. In the era where phones were a thing, a lot of them had a phone. You could write letters there and get your mail sent there.

Here's the thing: in the period I know best, gentlemen's clubs weren't just for the turbo-rich. They were the province of rich guys, yes- you had to be a 'gentleman' and know the right people to get in. But men who were doctor/lawyer/software-developer rich were most likely members of a gentlemen's club. Anyone who was rich enough to travel regularly was part of at least one club, because having somewhere to crash when you were going between (say) London and Delhi and back again was worth the cost.

Most gentlemen's clubs were owned by their members- not an outside corporate body. The club leaders were elected, usually by a small committee.

And a lot of gentlemen's clubs founded around specific interests, as time went on. There were gentlemen's clubs specifically for Guys Who Were Really Into Radio. There were clubs specifically for men who spent a lot of time traveling. There were clubs specifically for dudes who wanted to talk your ear off and clubs for old dudes who mostly wanted to nod off in their chairs and talk about The War and clubs for dudes who did not want to be percieved at all.

There were clubs for men who were really into science, or the arts, or sports. And one perk of being in a club like this is that you had access to equipment that you might not have been able to buy on your own. You didn't have to shell out for an entire library of scientific and medical books; you could go to your club and read in the library there. If your club had, say, an art studio, you could go paint at your club and not have to keep a studio space of your own.

There were gentlemen's clubs specifically oriented around specific political or social views. There were socialist clubs. (And a lot of them admitted women, which was !!!SCANDALOUS!!!) Like, they were still the province of goddamn rich people, there were a lot of trust fund baby socialists and not many working people, but there were socialist social clubs.

...I don't want to pretend that gentlemen's clubs were some kind of idyllic haven. 99% of these clubs were For Men, and For The Right Sort Of Men at that; if you didn't have a friend who was a member, or you weren't "respectable" enough, you didn't get to join. There's a reason that most of these clubs are gone now. Part of the point was excluding the Wrong Sort of People, and that became gauche over time. After a certain point, being part of a club became a thing for stodgy, out-of-touch rich men- not just "men who happened to have enough money to be part of a club"- and so most of the men who could join one didn't, and people stopped forming new ones. Only Old Money assholes (who will continue to do what they've always done, current trends be damned) keep the concept alive.

But like... the thing that replaced gentlemen's clubs for 99% of the people who would have had one a hundred years ago... is the premium airport lounge, and the premium gym membership, and the ~coworking hub~.** Anyone can join, yeah, as long as they're able to pay. You pay a corporation a chunk of money for similar amenities, and the amenities are ... fine? But because the entity is driven by profit, most of the money you're paying them goes into running their other business concerns and paying their CEOs a fat paycheck.

I think... as exclusionary as gentlemen's clubs were back in the day, there's the seed of a good idea there. I think the guys who wish they were still an attainable thing for a middle-class person have a point, and I wish we could inject some fucking nuance into this conversation.

A community-owned space that gives you a place to crash when you need one, has community-owned resources for its members, and isn't beholden to a corporation is a good thing. Third spaces that don't have to turn a profit are a damn good thing.

At the end of the day, my politics are 'everyone should get to have the kind of luxuries that were historically reserved for the rich'. Everyone should get to have the best life has to offer- leisure, beauty, good craftsmanship, and community. And so, you know, if this kind of community space sounds like a thing you'd like to have, maybe it's something you could work towards creating, too.

*TBF, this is still how they work today! But the networks are much smaller.

**I do find it very funny that apparently one of the biggest problems facing the few remaining Actual Gentlemen's Clubs (TM) is that people are trying to use their space to telework-- a lot of them are trying to ban laptops and business talk to "keep the club's character" (read: "we're too rich to have to work here").

[ambros1an]

hsr x gn!reader relationship hcs

warnings: penacony spoilers (2.0+), bug mention (screwllum), angsty (aventurine & acheron), ocd mention (sunday), slight dark content (ie stalking) at end in Sundays but it’s marked in red to avoid if uncomfy

characters: sunday, screwllum, acheron, aventurine

a/n: i feel like it’s so obvious i did like 2 of these a week later 💀 i need more Sunday content in game

sunday

❧ if you manage to get past Sunday’s formal exterior, what lies behind it is a complete “know-it-all.”

❧let him nerd out about the greatest books in the current and past amber eras. he’ll make sure to tell you all about the authors too.

❧if the two of you have liking books in common, congrats! he’ll bring you on a tour to the primal waking library where you can chat all about it.

❧sunday’s compulsions become even worse with you around. is his shirt properly tucked in? he hopes there’s no wrinkles, maybe he should iron all his shirts again. oh gosh-are his shoes untied? you don’t even notice this. he’s used to hiding his true feelings.

❧he definitely confesses first. he’s aware that his status can be a hindrance when forming genuine relationships.

❧ maybe afterwards he’ll let you touch his wings. he loves the feeling of you stroking his feathers. especially when those annoying pin feathers grow in. the biggest sign of trust amongst birds- and sunday of course.

❧ and obviously you always get free vip to robin’s shows.

❧before and after the “Robin incident” are two very different Sundays.

❧the after, is a very possessive Sunday. he can’t have you become like Robin. he uses nightingales to keep watch on you, to make sure you’re safe. he knows it’s unhealthy but he just lost his sister, he can’t lose you too.

-

Aventurine

❧aventurine’s flirty facade fools most people. they think he’s sleazy and untrustworthy, and so do you in the beginning.

❧at first he talks to you because he thinks your reactions are amusing.

❧eventually your relationship gets too deep for comfort.

❧this guy will never open up. if he has feelings for you, you’ll never know. it’s not because he’s ashamed. it’s because he cannot comprehend someone actually liking him.

❧the only way he’ll confess is if you do it first. and even then he plays it off like a joke, something he can’t even believe. it takes a lot of button pressing to get him to admit his feelings.

❧aventurine is a very vulnerable person. he may rub off insults but they still hurt him deep.

❧the first time you hug him, he is baffled. affection has been foreign to him since the extinction event.

❧worming your way into his heart will get you even more riches then before. sure, he hands out money like nothing, but to you? that credit card is unlimited.

❧”what, that’s all?” he encourages you to spend.

❧brings you to casinos for good luck. not as if he needed any, but with you at least his hand doesn’t shake.

-

screwllum

❧ it isn’t uncommon for inorganic species to feel love. just as it isn’t uncommon for organic species not to.

❧ Screwllum, however, hasn’t experienced that feeling.

❧ he sees the way organic species love in a way he hasn’t. as a genius society member and one interested in life itself, how could he not be interested.

❧ which is why when he starts feeling a fluttering in his chest whenever you’re around, he must get to the bottom of it!

❧ confesses instantly. he has zero experience yet remains so confident.

❧ immediately takes time out of his day to interact with you. in whatever way possible.

❧ it could be the busiest day of his life and he’ll still make time for you.

❧ he’s described as a gentlemen by his close companions. this means opening doors for you, taking you out to places, etc.

❧ sounds too good to be true. but it is true.

❧ his one flaw, if you can even call it that, is his love for all life. and that includes bugs! no smashing them on his watch! he’s picking them up before you even get the chance.

❧ if you like bugs, even better. he’ll gently pick them up and talk about them with you. the two of you can take turns.

-

Acheron

❧ the first time you meet her, you think she’s a polite but introverted lady. she claims to be a galaxy ranger and you have no reason to doubt her.

❧ her blunt way of speaking leaves no room for questions.

❧ that is, until you get too entangled in each other’s destines.

❧ your first meeting with acheron, wasn’t actually your first. you’ve met her many times. every time though she seems not to know you.

❧ Acheron lies to protect you. just as she lied about being a galaxy ranger, she lies that she has no feelings whatsoever towards you.

❧ perhaps you remind her of someone she once knew.

❧ on some days, acheron traverses through her memories to look for you. she sees the hurt look in your eyes, but sees your smiles too. the path of a self-annihilater is a lonely one.

❧ ultimately, if you manage to convince her with words and actions that you truly care for her. she will put forth that effort tenfold. she desperately doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

❧ acheron is very protective towards you. if there’s a hint of danger, she’ll encourage you to take her with you. even going on her own to eliminate it herself.

credit to @/miau-meow-miau for first divider 🫶

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 11.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! (we back at it)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.12.

word count: 6,3K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: My humble offering after the stress of previous chapters. I promise there is fluff.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Christmas at home unfolded in its usual rhythm, but this time, it felt different. Despite your own scepticism, you actually attempted the moon salutations your dad had badgered you about. Later, you unapologetically devoured an inhuman amount of pierogi, earning both admiration and disapproval from your relatives. Yet, for the first time in years, you found yourself genuinely enjoying the festivities. Somehow, the snow fight with Viktor, and everything else that came with it, had lightened something inside you. The weight you hadn’t realised you’d been carrying felt less oppressive, and the chaos of your family became something you could actually laugh about.

For Viktor, Christmas with Jayce and his family was quieter than expected but in a way that felt oddly relaxing. Jayce, ever the enthusiast, made a commendable attempt at cooking a festive dinner, and despite Viktor’s initial doubts, it wasn’t a complete disaster. They spent the evening exchanging stories, the crackle of the fireplace filling the silences, and for the first time in a long time, Viktor didn’t feel like an outsider looking in on a tradition.

You returned to university on a train with Hale, the two of you chatting about everything and nothing. Hale, perceptive as ever, avoided probing you about Sheffield or Viktor, instead letting you adjust to the shift in pace on your own. Your laughter filled the carriage as you shared stories about your holidays, the comfort of familiarity easing the transition back to reality.

And yet, both you and Viktor found your thoughts drifting back to the snow—the cold biting your skin, the warmth of your laughter, your anger, and your resolution. You had kept it to yourselves, not out of secrecy, but out of reverence for how rare it felt. Now, as you both prepared to return to university, a mix of excitement and nervousness settled in your chest. Whatever had happened in Sheffield, whatever had moved, would soon be tested by the reality of your everyday lives. Neither of you knew what would come next, but Viktor’s fear had smoothed around the edges, and your hesitation had warmed up to hope.

When you all met by the entrance, it was hard not to skip slightly. Jayce was unloading his and Viktor’s bags from the trunk, while Viktor leaned against the car, waving his hands in the air, clearly saying something important—or groundbreaking.

“I’m thrilled to see you again, gentlemen,” Hale smirked, taking in the uneven division of labour. “I have to admit, this is exactly how I pictured your setup,” he wagged his eyebrows at Jayce, who only shrugged, playfully unbothered.

You walked up to Viktor, giving him a small, casual wave. He responded with a quiet “hi,” and before you could ask anything, he took a step, closing the distance between you. He had rehearsed the moment of your next meeting in his head, and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but his body acted entirely outside his brain’s jurisdiction.

“What are you—” you started, but your question was cut off when he leaned in and kissed you. Your body froze in surprise—hands hovering over his shoulders, tentative—before you relaxed into it, placing your palms on his arms.

The kiss was enough to make Jayce and Hale freeze, eyes wide and jaws dropped, as if they had just witnessed something completely impossible. When Viktor pulled back, he looked at you for a moment, his breath shallow. “I’m sorry I haven’t texted, I—”

Your lips quirked into a smile. “My family hunts down anyone that uses a phone over Christmas with torches and pitchforks,” you teased, your tone light, though it still carried a slight tremble of nervousness.

Hale burst your bubble with a loud clearing of his throat, his eyes rolling knowingly. He propped his hand on his hip, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement, and then turned toward Jayce, holding out his other hand. “Alright, pay up, unbeliever.”

Jayce, still a little stunned, dug into his wallet without saying a word, pulling out a ten-pound note and handing it to Hale. “You are a fucking witch, Hale.”

“I’m sorry, did you take bets on my private life?” you scoffed, slightly bemused in mock offence, your arms now circled around Viktor’s waist.

“We didn’t bet against you if that’s what’s worrying you. Just the time frames,” Hale said, waving his hand vaguely between you and Viktor. “Jayce wouldn’t accept that this”—he gestured loosely—“will resolve itself before mid-terms.” He shrugged, fanning himself playfully with his illegally acquired tenner.

“I hope now you know that my powers have no limit, and that I am always right,” he announced triumphantly in Jayce’s direction.

“I don’t even want to know what you guys talked about when we weren’t around,” you sighed, resigned to the thought of your little drama becoming fodder for your friends’ gossip routine. It felt completely alien to be wrapped around Viktor in public, though not unwelcome—he had solved your next equation for you: how you were going to tell the group that the volatile times were over.

Jayce seemed happy enough about losing the bet; he gave Viktor a pat on the shoulder and ran off to see Mel. Hale strolled off toward his dorm building, leaving you and Viktor to grab your bags and march together into whatever was coming next. You exchanged awkward small talk about your holiday experiences as you walked toward the lift, your hands loosely tangled together.

You entered the elevator with two other girls, who eyed you suspiciously. Viktor pressed the button for his floor with his cane, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, completely ignoring your questioning gaze.

“Excuse me, and what about my floor?” you asked, your eyebrows raised in mock offence as you shifted your bag higher on your shoulder.

“We are not going to your floor,” Viktor replied calmly, not even sparing you a glance as the elevator began its ascent. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, letting part of his weight rest on you.

“Oh, we’re not, are we?” you challenged, turning to face him fully. “And where exactly are you dragging me, Mr. Master Planner?”

“Obviously, up to my room,” he said, his tone so unbothered it almost made you laugh.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “And what would I possibly want to do in your room?”

Viktor’s lips twitched into a sly smile as he glanced sideways at you, his voice low and laced with amusement. “It’s about what I want to do. But if you have to ask so many questions...” He leaned in closer, his breath brushing your ear, and you could feel the smug grin blooming on his lips. “I want to eat you out.”

The two girls in the elevator exchanged a glance, one of them scoffing in incredulity, while you whisper-shouted at him in shock, “Viktor! There are people here!”

“You insisted. Now you know,” he replied, unfazed, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as the elevator continued upward.

The moment the door to Viktor’s room shut behind you, the tension you’d carried up the lift broke like a dam. You spun on your heel, shoving Viktor lightly against the door, your lips finding his in a hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, mussing the strands with reckless abandon. Viktor let out a soft noise of surprise, barely managing to steady himself with his cane before surrendering to your fervour.

Your fingers made quick work of his belt; the metallic clink startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. You barely pulled back from the kiss, your breath hot against his lips as you whispered, “God, you’re hot.”

Viktor’s ears burned red, his breath hitching as he stared at you, stunned and flustered. “Where did that come from?” he asked, his voice uneven, the faintest hint of a nervous laugh escaping him.

You smirked, tilting your head as you undid the last of his belt and tugged it loose. “Have you seen the mirror like… ever? You are always hot,” you breathed against his neck, unceremoniously shoving your hand down his pants, making him release a startled moan. “But now you are the hottest,” you said eagerly, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Viktor jumped at your touch, his body instinctively trying to wiggle out of your grasp as he rasped in surprise, “I thought I made myself clear in the lift, so what is this you’re trying to—ah!” He broke off, his breath hitching as your fingers traced a particularly sensitive spot. His protest melted into a half-laugh, half-groan before he finished, “…do?”

“Maybe I want to eat you out first?” you retorted playfully in between kisses, as you walked him carefully toward the bed, plucking his cane from his hand and sitting him on the mattress. And he let you. He let your hands guide his torso to splay flat and your palms to travel down his chest and thighs, your skin hot with yearning, as you positioned yourself between his legs. He propped himself up to run his hands up your thighs, only to discover it was stockings hiding beneath your skirt.

“Is that for me?” It was meant as a tease but came out too admiring to provoke anything else than a smile on your face.

“Yes,” you said bluntly, and seeing some other remark already dancing on the tip of his tongue, you leaned in and took a long, deep whiff of his cock through the underwear. Viktor’s head fell back onto the pillow as he released a loud groan, his body curling up in heat. His words caught in his throat, and all he could manage was a shaky laugh. “This… isn’t fair play.”

“Oh no, Viktor, you’d better call the police,” you mocked, sliding his pants and boxers down to take him in fully, for the first time, in broad daylight. You paused, your eyes fixed on him, flustered and dishevelled by the doings of your own hands, and whispered in awe, “You are so fucking hot.” A smile bloomed on your face as you noticed the blush rapidly creeping up his chest.

Viktor took a couple of long breaths to steady himself, your warm hands resting in the creases of his thighs making him twitch slightly. “I might have come up with a compromise,” he managed to say, his words escaping in a desperate exhale.

Seeing your eyebrows shoot up in question, he motioned for you to come closer. Wordlessly, he guided your hands to rest on his hips and positioned your hips over his chest to straddle him. Your fingers tensed up, digging into his hipbones, so he soothed you sliding his palms flat over your ass cheeks and whispered into your core, “Trust me.”

You hesitated, waiting for him to make the next move. When you felt his face hovering over your underwear, you jumped slightly at the heat of his breath. “It seems to me that you come unprepared… though not unready.” He smirked, seeing the moisture that had already pooled itself through your knickers. “How attached are you to those?” he asked quietly, gliding his hands underneath the material.

“Not very attached, why?” Your tone was light, though trembling at the edges. Your eyes were transfixed on his cock already weeping at the tip, but Viktor didn’t see. All he saw was what was in front of him, when he ripped the material in one smooth motion and placed an outrageously loud, moany kiss on your core, sending a jolt up your spine. “Well, that’s just beautiful, isn’t it.”

He peppered slow smooches all over you and you jumped at each and every one. This was perfect—a sudden surge of affection tore through him, as he felt a strange sense of belonging there, smothered by your thighs. He scratched his nails on the meat of your ass and pushed his nose inside you, taking a long whiff. It went through your mind how incredibly gross and hot it was simultaneously, when your own whimper broke your focus—Viktor licked your clit with a hard tongue, while teasing your entrance with the tip of his nose. A low chuckle echoed through you, when he felt your inside clench on nothing.

You had to recollect yourself quickly, though Viktor’s tongue made it so, so difficult. You steadied the base of his cock in your hand and kissed the tip sweetly, drawing a muffled moan from his lips. His face snapped an inch away, only for him to brush his thumb against your clit playfully, causing your rhythm to stutter. You huffed, as if to scold him, but your mouth, already wrapped around his cock, never left him, and it made him giggle.

Seeing your resolve wouldn’t faulter, Viktor hooked his arms around your thighs and buried his face greedily in your core. The groan you let out caused his belly to knot tightly and send a vibration all the way up to his mouth, which he delivered back as a helpless mewl against your lips.

None of you would give in, completely invested in drawing hums and growls from each other, just to send one another over the edge. Until Viktor used his last resort—he pushed two fingers inside you to join his tongue in this sweet torture and you fell for the first time that day. You snapped your mouth away from him, your spine pulled up like that of a puppet to grind your hips down on Viktor’s face, as your wordlessly came into it, covering his mouth, nose, and cheeks with your sleek.

It was a completely new kind of intimacy for you. The gentle struggle for control between you mirrored the way you had pushed and pulled at each other emotionally, leaving you both nervous and excited all at once. The sound of your own heavy breathing filled the silence, and you found yourself torn between wanting to hug him, suck him off into oblivion, or scream at him—all these feelings mingling together, none overpowering the others.

“Good girl,” he let out a breathy laugh, slapping your ass cheek playfully. You groaned at your defeat, but having your full focus back, you eagerly resumed the work on the assignment. Having Viktor trapped underneath you, you cupped his balls in one hand and let your throat relax over his length.

You considered teasing him, but the thought vanished the moment your skin met his again. The helpless twitch in your mouth made you release a muffled yearning moan, and you realised that the feeling of pleasure spreading through your bodies was mutual.

Your mouth was hot on him, and the feeling of Viktor’s body writhe underneath yours, now nestled comfortably in his edges, made your chest fill with warmth. You worked him slowly, thoroughly, taking in all the small sounds his lips would give you. His hips bucked once in a while and when he couldn’t hold himself back much longer, he bit on your ass cheek, sending your chuckle straight into his burning core.

“Ah, I can’t—,” Viktor tried to plea, but you wouldn’t release him. You held his hips down with your weight and allowed him to spill himself into your mouth, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue as you pushed it down your throat, keeping it to yourself. His cock finally broke free with a quiet ‘pop’ sound, making him release a small hiss.

Viktor lay still, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, your weight pressing down on him in a way that was both grounding and liberating. He felt no pain, no discomfort—only the warm afterglow of bliss, a soothing wave that enveloped him as you rested on top of him, your body soft and pliant against his. For a moment, time seemed to stretch, leaving only the two of you, intertwined like figures on a set of poker cards, your softness pouring itself between his sharp edges. The silence between you felt full, almost sacred, as Viktor's mind slowly unfurled, each thought calmly finding its place in the serenity of the moment. In this stillness, there was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, powerful understanding of everything you had shared and the comfort of knowing it wasn’t over yet.

“Hey, come up here,” he took a deep breath, his fingers tracing a line up your spine. You obliged wordlessly, settling yourself in the crook of his neck, when he pulled you into a slow, grateful kiss. He could feel the taste of himself on your mouth, which made him deepen the kiss and pull you closer.

“I guess this is not on your mind now, but I just want to let you know that I’m healthy,” he said quietly, his expression thoughtful.

You blinked twice, your mind slowly coming back into your body. Fuck, right. “Jesus, I didn’t even think—”

“That’s alright. If you need some sex ed, I can be of service,” he smirked, right into your face. “Now would be the time you tell me about yourself.”

“Hm, I don’t know, I had this weird rash for days, can you take a look?” you started pulling your shirt up in a joke and Viktor whined, “Get off me, you vile woman!”

You both laughed, the sound light and easy, before he pulled you back in, his lips finding yours again in a deeper, more lingering kiss. “You are such a weirdo,” he said, affection dripping from his voice. He nuzzled his face into yours and let out a content sigh.

“I’m healthy too,” you smiled, feeling the familiar warmth between you two. It was strange how easy it felt to talk to him about something that could be so awkward with anyone else. It felt natural, in a way that wasn’t foreshadowed by the route you had to take to get there.

“I guess this would also be a good time to tell you I’m on the pill?” you said, your voice playful, your fingers tracing circles on his chest.

Viktor paused, his expression shifting as he gently cupped your face, making you meet his eyes. His gaze was serious, his tone low but steady. “That’s your decision,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek, “but just know that other methods work for me too, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

You smiled at him, the warmth in his voice making your heart flutter. Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just for a moment longer than necessary.

You settled into a silent lull, tangled with each other. Viktor didn’t break the stillness for a moment, his thoughts weighing on him, before he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.

“So... would you go on a date with me?” he asked, a slight nervousness creeping into the edges of his words.

Your lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, your eyes bright as you responded, “I thought we already were.”

He chuckled, the sound a little more relieved than he expected. “Not quite what I meant,” he said, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw. “But yes, this is me asking... would you?”

You laughed softly, teasing him. “Well, I guess since you asked so nicely… yes.”

Viktor’s smile softened as he leaned in to kiss you again, the simple act of asking suddenly feeling like one of the most important things he had done in a long time.

***

The simple act of getting dressed wasn’t so simple, though. You paced up and down your room, your wardrobe splayed out—well, everywhere—as you eyed every single item of clothing, only to toss it aside with a grunt.

“Where is he taking you?” Sue asked, knowing she had to tread carefully. When she suggested that jeans and a t-shirt would fit anywhere, you responded with a huff and a pair of rolled-up socks thrown in her direction.

“I. Have. No. Idea,” you finally slumped down on the bed, surrounded by the pile of clothes. “Sue, I’m losing my mind. I think I should break up with him.”

“Jesus, I don’t know which one of you is worse,” your friend chuckled, proceeding to ruffle through her own wardrobe. She pulled out a simple blue dress with spaghetti straps. “There—you could wear this for a restaurant, a museum, or even a club. Maybe a pub too, but you might turn a couple of heads in it,” she said, placing the dress at your feet.

You peeked through your fingers, then paused. This... might work. “Do I get your boobs with it, though?” You shot Sue a glance, measuring the fabric against your chest.

“Will you stop being such a twat? I already feel like I’m overstepping. Hale should be your fairy godmother here,” Sue crossed her arms over her chest. “This is my lucky dress, and you will treat yourself with respect when you wear it, young lady!”

“Uh, how many times did you get lucky in it?” you said, feigning disgust as you held the dress in front of yourself by the straps dangling from your fingers.

“It’s freshly washed,” Sue shot you a sweet smile, and you only rolled your eyes. You put the dress on and, surprisingly, it fit. It actually fit so well that you worried it might be an overkill. A knock on the door pulled you out of the debate about whether you should go with jeans and a t-shirt instead.

“Are you… oh,” Viktor’s voice caught in his throat, and you immediately abandoned the jeans-and-t-shirt idea. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You eyed him up and down—he looked… nice. Nicer than usual, as much as that was possible. He was wearing a long coat, dark brown woollen pants, and a white shirt that peeked out from under his red pullover. A matching red scarf hung loosely from his neck, and you suddenly remembered it was winter, so you had to wear a coat as well.

“Or rather, almost ready,” you quipped, grabbing your coat and a small purse.

“And why haven’t I seen this dress before?” Viktor leaned in to give you a peck on the cheek, his hand sliding down your waist.

“It’s Sue’s lucky dress, apparently, so whatever luck happens tonight, we have Sue to thank.” You tried to sound composed, but your nerves got the better of you, and it came out breathy.

“No shagging in my dress, please,” Sue said bluntly, trying to sort out the mess you were leaving behind. “And have fun, you two.”

Viktor took your hand as you walked out together—a completely simple and innocent, loving gesture that made your heart race with panic. Were your hands sweaty? You were the one who had forgotten gloves this time. You struggled to think of anything to say that might sound natural and suddenly felt trapped in your own awkwardness. Your nerves bubbled up, and you squeezed his hand lightly, trying to distract yourself.

“So,” you began casually, your voice a little too high-pitched, “where exactly are you taking me?”

Viktor gave you a sideways glance but didn’t answer immediately. He had the same tight, focused expression he always wore when he was working. You raised an eyebrow. He was definitely keeping something from you.

“Come on,” you prodded, “You can’t just say ‘you’ll see’ and expect me not to get curious.”

“I think you’ll like it,” Viktor replied, his voice even, but you could sense the hesitation beneath it. He had no idea if you would like it, because when he picked the place, it struck him so suddenly that he didn’t have the faintest idea about what you might’ve liked in the first place. So, he picked the most generic, fancy place he had heard of, and right now it made his skin crawl that he'd heard of it from Heimerdinger.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to read him, but he kept his usual unreadable composure. After a long pause, you gave up, deciding to let the mystery unfold. Though you had no idea what you were about to walk into, it was strangely... exciting.

The restaurant was nothing like you had expected. You blinked in surprise as you entered a lavish, high-end dining room with dim lighting, white linen tablecloths, and waiters gliding silently between tables. It felt stiff—formality hanging in the air like the scent of all things expensive: leather, wine, and heavy perfume. You felt suddenly out of place in your casual dress, surrounded by the perfectly groomed people around you.

“Viktor…” you murmured, looking at him. “This is... this is fancy. Are you sure this is the place?”

Viktor smiled nervously, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as you. “No, I haven’t been here before, but I’ve heard it’s really good.”

You gave him a half-smile, your nerves beginning to spike. You hadn’t expected this. He was acting like he had no idea what he was doing, but there was a determination in his eyes that made you wonder if he really was as out of his element as he seemed.

As you were led to your table, the waiter noticed Viktor’s cane and immediately straightened up, his eyes scanning the space. “Would you prefer a more comfortable seat, sir?” he asked politely. “Something with more support?”

Viktor’s hand twitched on his cane, and you quickly jumped in. “No, this is fine, thank you.” Oh God, why couldn’t you just shut up?

When you sat down, you glanced at the menu, but the silence stretched out between you as you searched for words. You glanced at Viktor, who was completely absorbed in the card, and you could swear there was a drop of sweat forming on his temple. You picked up the menu, flipping through it but barely taking in anything. Your eyes landed on the prices, which made your throat tighten.

After a beat, you asked, trying to hide the edge of concern in your voice, “Are you sure about this place? The prices—uh, it’s a little... well, it’s a lot.”

Viktor didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at you with an unreadable expression, and the silence settled in again. Finally, he asked, his voice quiet but sharp, “Why are you acting so weird?”

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat rise to your face. You could barely meet his eyes, feeling like you were under a microscope. “Me? Why are you acting so weird? You barely said a word tonight,” you shot back, your voice rising slightly in defence. “Is this what you think I like?”

“I… guess I’m… nervous?” Viktor’s voice faltered, sounding more like he had just begun searching for an answer. “Also… I actually might not have the faintest idea what you would like, and well…” His hand gestured vaguely, as if trying to dismiss the discomfort between you.

You blinked, your brows furrowing. “So you decided to take me to a place that makes me incredibly uncomfortable, instead of asking me?” Your voice came out sharper than you meant, more accusatory than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it back. “Why... why did you ask me out in the first place?”

Viktor’s face twisted in frustration, his lips curling into a tight line. “Because that’s what normal people do?” he retorted, his whisper barely containing the tension bubbling in his chest. “You will forgive me, but have I breached some kind of rule that you have made up in your head?”

Your chest tightened, but you couldn’t decide whether you were surprised or offended. You almost wanted to throw your hands up, but instead, you exhaled sharply, trying to rein in your growing frustration. “No, oh God, it’s not about that. Did you ask me on a date because you wanted to spend time with me, or because you felt like you had to?”

Viktor's expression faltered, his jaw clenching as if he were searching for the right words. His voice dropped even lower, still sharp but full of confusion and vulnerability.

“Jesus, please don’t do this,” he muttered, his eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and exasperation. “I asked you because I’ve never asked anyone before, and it felt… right. No matter how wrong it feels now,” he finished with a frustrated whisper-shout.

You blinked, the sudden honesty hitting you like a slap to the face. “Wait. You’ve never been on a date before?” You couldn’t hide the shock in your voice, your wide eyes searching his face for any hint of a joke. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t say that,” Viktor shot back quickly, his voice almost defensive. “I have been asked out. But I have never asked anyone.” He looked down, his gaze turning away from you as though the words stung more than he’d let on, like admitting it was something of a personal defeat.

Your heart softened for a moment, but you quickly masked it with your usual teasing demeanour.

“I, um…” You hesitated, the weight of the awkward silence pressing down on you. You could see the evening unfolding in your mind’s eye: a tiny, overpriced meal, polite conversation, and then a quick parting with a stiff “goodnight.” That wasn’t what you wanted, but you weren’t sure how to get the two of you out of this pit you’d dug. “Where… would you take me if…”

Viktor gave you a sideways glance, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. “If I actually knew something about you?” His voice softened with a hint of uncertainty. “I don’t know. How about you tell me?”

You bit your lip for a moment, staring down at your menu, trying to figure out how to salvage this. “I… like chips?” you offered, the words feeling ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth.

Viktor blinked, clearly caught off guard, before a small laugh bubbled up from his chest. The sound was warm and genuine, cutting through the tension between you. You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of it all breaking the ice.

“Chips?” Viktor chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Hey, don’t judge,” you shot back, still grinning. “It’s the simple things. Who doesn’t like chips?”

Viktor’s smile softened as the awkwardness between you began to melt away. He leaned back slightly in his chair, looking at you with a glimmer of something less guarded in his eyes. First, he spoke your name with exagerrated sincerity. Then, he took a deep breath, his voice a little more serious now, but still light. “Would you like to get a beer and fish & chips with me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was simple. It was perfect. You let out a soft, relieved laugh. “I thought you’d never ask,” you said, your voice lighter, warmer.

Viktor’s smile deepened, the weight of the evening’s tension finally starting to ease. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, leaning forward just enough to meet your eyes. “Should we run then? I’m low-key scared of that waiter,” he whispered loudly into your ear, leaning over the table.

You nodded eagerly and stood up from your seat. “Do you need some assistance in walking, sir?”

Viktor snorted at your weak attempt to mock the waiter’s accent, stood up, and pulled you under his shoulder, leaning his weight on you. “Yes, I’m afraid you will have to carry me to our next destination.”

*

“Hmm, that’s it. I’m planning our dates from now on,” you sighed, clearly pleased with yourself and the dinner you were eating out of the newspaper.

“Is that so? Bossing me around already?” Viktor hooked his arm around your shoulder. The two of you sat on the bench next to the fish and chips shop, and it was unbearably cold. You were wearing only a silly dress and a coat with no scarf or gloves because you had no idea what to wear and had left in a hurry. And he knew it.

“Are you complaining?” you asked, your words muffled as you were still chewing. You shot him a look, as if challenging him, though it would have been perfectly reasonable to complain—he had fallen only once, and only because he was trying not to. As usual, the moment led him to a more significant answer to a more significant question.

“No,” Viktor deadpanned. No, he wasn’t.

“That’s it? No?” You nuzzled closer into his arm, still eating. The vinegar made your nose burn—your other source of warmth, aside from Viktor.

“Eh, I am slowly accepting my fate,” he shrugged, completely unfazed. “It’s not going to be normal, is it?” It was more of a statement than a question, mused into the cold air. It made him feel warmer, though he had no idea what normal even was.

“No. Not in my nature. Also—who are you to demand normal?” You snorted, thinking of how weird the last three months had been, how weird your parents were, and wondering if it wasn’t just you who was not normal, but actually weird, in a way.

“I’m not demanding. As I said—I am slowly accepting my fate.” And it was the truth. Slowly, his fate was facing acceptance. Or rather, rapidly, as it had already been accepted and settled in his head: no other way from that point forward was possible for him.

“It must be terrible, to carry such a burden.” You let out a long sigh, intending to mock him but lacking any real bite in the end. You tried to eat your last chip but faltered and dropped it idly back into the newspaper.

“You have no idea.” You haven’t got the faintest fucking idea.

***

“Come on, last chapter,” Viktor nudged your elbow. Your head was resting limply against his desk, your hands hanging at your sides.

“I am never asking you again,” you groaned. It was so late, the letters had stopped making sense a long time ago. “I miss Sue.” It was meant as a joke, but you almost wept at the memory of you and Sue saying, “fuck it” and going to bed when you studied together.

“Don’t be such a baby. People would kill to have me as a study buddy.” Viktor leaned in and placed his hand on your neck. It was warm and made you even sleepier.

“I hope they kill me,” you said, lifting yourself up and slumping your hands onto his shoulders to look him dead in the eye. It was no joke.

“Please, I’ll feed you anything you want after that.”

You blinked at him absentmindedly. “Are you expecting me to say something very specific now?” Your eyebrow shot up, as if the dots had magically connected themselves. You weren’t going to say it, though—your mouth was dry, and your eyes were tearing up from exhaustion.

“I wasn’t. Now I am.” Viktor shrugged, his lips curling into a smile as he watched you like this. “Stop this; distraction won’t save you.” As if you could pull anything like that off right now.

“Viktor, how about begging? I am so. Tired. I beg you; I need to splay myself flat or I will die,” you whined theatrically, dropping to your knees before him, your hands gripping his thighs.

“You should switch departments,” he chuckled at your desperation. It was much cuter than Jayce throwing books at him in the exact same setup. “But, eh, I guess it’s fine. What time is the exam?”

Which was why he faltered. You had no idea how many things you could’ve asked.

“11. Yes—” You raised your head and looked up at him. He was already opening his mouth to say that you should revise in the morning, though his smile was saying something else.

“I will revise in the morning.” You smiled softly, almost whispering. I love you for this.

“It’s settled then. Will you stay?” He held out his hands to help you up.

“Viktor, I can barely move. I’m no use here now.” You took his hands, though you tried to get up using as much of your own strength as possible.

“To sleep, you degenerate,” he scoffed, still smiling. “To splay yourself flat and sleep, instead of, I don’t know... dying.” Stay, stay, stay.

“Yes.” You nodded many times to emphasize how much you were staying. I also love you for this. You could cry if you weren’t so tired. You almost did when he gave you a spare toothbrush, a towel, his boxer shorts, and his green jumper to sleep in. You smelled entirely of Viktor now, and you decided that any other smell stunk.

You sank into the mattress, tangling yourself around him like a snake—your thigh between his legs, his bad leg propped on your hip. Your arms wrapped around his waist, fists clutching his sleeping T-shirt with I ♥ Jayce Tallis written on it, your face pressed against his neck, as if your own smell of Viktor wasn’t enough smell of Viktor.

His hand rested in the small of your back, the other splayed under your head. He spoke your name softly.

Silence. Only breathing. He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table to set the alarm. 7 AM—you were going to have his head for this.

He whispered your name again, this time to himself. I am rapidly falling in love with you. You had stayed the night.

[chenlesfavorite]

[TEASER] love in the dark. lee haechan

— summary : you love haechan, you truly do, you wish to be with him till death do you part though your families aren't fond of each other and he can't officially court you, your meetings are always secret. but everything becomes complicated once your parents tell you that you're promised to a complete stranger.

— pairing : haechan x fem!reader

— genre : angst, forbidden romance, secret relationship, arranged marriage

— extra : regency era, oneshot/imagine, open ending

— author's note : it's my birthday and I promised I would upload an imagine... didn't say if it was gonna be the entire thing tho so here's a little teaser for it <3 the full imagine will be released once I'm back from my break :)

— teaser word count : 851 (final w.c will have around 3-4k)

reminder that this is pure fiction and not an actual depiction of how they act.

The ballroom is glittering under the golden shine of the grand chandelier hanging above, the violinists playing a melody fitting for the current waltz unraveling. Gowns twirling around as the gentlemen lead their ladies with grace.

Amidst the setting, you feel out of place, your heart weighing you down with the secrets you keep inside it. Your feet are moving along the rhythm of the waltz, but you're buried inside the garden in your mind.

Your eyes are drawn to the figure standing in the corner of the ballroom, his fingers delicately wrapping around the glass filled with the finest wine as his eyes that know your secret follow your every step.

Though you have not exchanged any words with him the entire evening, the tension was present and you know who the figure is. One might say you know him like you know the back of your hand.

The young gentleman you’re dancing with notices your breathing switching to a heavier pace, making your distracted self quite visible. “Lady L/N, are you feeling well?” The gentleman could not resist but ask, his expression carrying concern.

“Ah, I’m well. I just seem to be a little out of it as I’ve been on my feet all evening, pardon me.” You reply, your lips curling up into a smile as you do not wish to worry the gentleman.

Putting on a quick smile is no hard work for you, after all, you have learned the practice of masking your true feelings and intentions. But one person could see through that very easily and he was still watching you from the corner.

As the waltz draws to a close, the figure watching you makes his leave by going up the stairs. You are more than sure he’s going to the balcony. You politely curtsy to the gentleman who just danced with you and you excuse yourself from the ballroom floor, slipping through the sea of people.

At last, you reach the balcony, the cool breeze of the night hitting you and of course, your guess is right. He is here.

You did not think he would come tonight, especially considering his family did not receive an invitation to the ball due to your families not being fond of one another. But alas, that was stupid of you to even ponder about, after all, wherever you are, he will be there too.

“You should not be here, Haechan.” You say in a quiet tone, approaching him with a voice that carries the slightest anger in it, mixed with worry. “And yet,” He steps closer to you. “Here I am.” That cocky smirk appearing on his face, that smirk that just makes you want to hit him.

“You did not receive an invitation!” You exclaim, though by the looks of it, Haechan just did not seem to mind nor care, this is just a game to him. A game that he loves to play. “You think too little of me if you believe an invitation could keep me from you.” He replies, his voice a soft murmur. The moonlight cast a glow over him and his eyes showed a glimmer of mischief.

You step back, the railing of the balcony pressing against your back— your breath catching in your throat. “Haechan, if anyone were to see us— if they were to know you are here—”

Your words are cut off and a light gasp escapes your lips as he holds onto the railing, trapping you in between his arms. Your eyes lock onto his, his stare sending a shiver down your spine. “Let them see, let them know,” He whispers in your ear, his low tone sounding alluring.

“I care not for their gossip, nor for the rules of society. I care only for you.” Haechan leaves those words lingering in your mind as he starts to look directly at you. You narrow your eyes, a light scoff coming from you despite the red color rushing to your cheeks. “You think this is just some grand jest, don’t you? Do you have any clue of what you risk— what we risk?”

Haechan lets out a chuckle, his breath warm against your cheek. “Risk? I risk nothing. It is you who risks everything.” He pauses before continuing. “Your reputation, your family’s pride, their plans for your future... and yet,” His voice softens. “Here you are.”

Your heart starts to pound heavily in your chest, the anger in you battling with something deeper that was inside of you, something so dangerous. You search his face for any signs of seriousness behind that smug facade of his.

You lightly push him away as you clear your voice. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have followed you.” You say, turning away from him as you start to head for the doors of the balcony.

“But you did, you smile and dance for the others but you always come back to me because you know your heart belongs to me.” His voice fades away as you rush back inside the manor, the heat becoming very evident on your face.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[vintagesimstress]

1850: Night at the Opera (in collaboration with The Royal Thornolia Chronicles)

After my months-long Celtic spree, the time has come to briefly return to my old era of interest...

May I present to you a small 1850s set, made together with amazing Ali, the author of @theroyalthornoliachronicles! We're both so excited to finally share it with you all 💗 Make sure to check Ali's post for her half of the collaboration - practically necessary if you want your mid-Victorian gentlemen to be properly dressed for the evening!

While Ali dealt with the men, I focused - surprise surprise - on the ladies. And made two evening dresses, both inspired by the same fashion plate from ca. 1850:

If you follow Ali's story, you probably remember that a certain mademoiselle Eleanor Valery wore the dress on the right to an opera event. The dress on the left also made a short appearance, as it (or rather: its beta version) was worn by my simself Cecile, who was kindly invited to participate in the evening as well (no, that's not my real name. I just asked my husband to give me a random female French name, and that was the first thing he came up with ;)). And so both dresses are named after those characters: Eleanor and Cecile.

Both come in 29 swatches and I swear all of those colour combos come straight from mid-Victorian fashion plates - even if Ali claimed some of them remind her of 1980s Barbies ;)

polycount: ca. 17K for Eleanor (that's HIGH my friends, you have been warned. Believe me or not, it's mostly the fault of all those tiny deco flowers) and 7,5 for Cecile

Base Game compatible

HQ mod compatible (pictures taken with the mod)

Cecile uses glass shader for lace transparency = won’t work properly in laptop mode

all LODs

custom thumbnails, bump and specular maps, lots of satin shine

tagged as everyday and formal

found under long dress subcategory

colour tagged

disallowed for random

PDNs included if anyone wants to make recolours. You don’t need them for the mesh to work.

You might notice that they vary slightly in style, and that's because I put an insane amount of work into texturing Cecile, as somehow I couldn't get it to look any satisfactory with my usual methods. I love the result, but the whole process was so convoluted that I'm not even sure if I could still retrace all the steps, let alone redo Eleanor in the same style. So we're left with this small discrepancy between both dresses. Hope you don't mind!

DOWNLOAD on my Patreon (free, no ads or early access)!

And now, once again, jump over to The Royal Thornolia Chronicles for the other half of the goodies :)

[theresattrpgforthat]

Woo, the ask box is open again!! Been wanting to ask about any alternatives to Call of Cthulhu (investigative games with the potential to be set in the early 20th century) with more open licensing, such as having Open Game Licenses or being licensed under Creative Commons?

THEME: Hackable CoC Alternatives

Hello friend! I'm excited about the new asks as well!

So as far as I know, a lot of indie designers are very happy to allow hacks and supplements done of their work, but if it isn't clear on their page, asking in a comment certainly doesn't hurt!

That being said, for this ask, I made sure to recommend games that are built on systems that have been stated to be licensed under Creative Commons or something similar.

Eldritch, by Matheus Henrique Morais.

A hack of 24XX for Cosmic Horror games in any setting. Inspired by Cthulhu Dark.

24XX is a game system that has been hacked for a number of different settings and is released under a Creative Commons 4.0 license. The base rules take up about one page, and there’s plenty of examples in other 24XX hacks of how to introduce a rule or two to help the game fit the genre you’re looking for. 24XX is also inspired by the OSR scene, so when it comes to running and designing adventures, you can design adventures for these games similar to how you might design them for other OSR games.

Haunter in the Dark, by Robot Francis.

This town is haunted. Your home is cursed. Monsters are real. Haunter in the Dark is a horror roleplaying game about a group of investigators discovering then confronting the supernatural horrors that haunt their home town. The game is powered by the Forged in the Dark engine, with rules to create your investigators defined by their relationship to the unnatural: the Descendent, the Dreamer, the Exorcist, the Scientist, the Sleuth, and the Sorcerer.

The motivations, powers, and minions of the horror are generated collaboratively by the players during the game, with players encouraged to creep each other out and brandish their character's sharp edges. The MC takes the townspeople, world, and monsters that the players depict, then twists the knife to make it worse than they could have imagined. The game helps you create an escalating mystery, followed by a climactic scene of confrontation.

This is a Forged in the Dark Game, which means it uses the mechanics familiar from the Forged in the Dark SRD. John Harper has stated that the contents of the SRD are available under the Creative Commons Attribution, and if you want to include the Forged in the Dark logo, there’s simply an attribution request to indicate it’s a logo trademarked by One Seven Design. It’s an incredibly free license, and I’m planning on writing a game in this system!

The Between, by the Gauntlet.

The Between is a tabletop roleplaying game about a group of mysterious monster hunters in Victorian-era London. They are residents of a place called Hargrave House, and their job is to investigate and neutralize monstrous threats terrorizing the city—threats that Scotland Yard won’t or can’t handle themselves. As the story progresses, they become aware of the plans of a Moriarty-style criminal mastermind they will eventually have to face in order to save Queen and country.

The Between is directly inspired by the gothic horror TV show Penny Dreadful, but also takes a lot of inspiration from British horror classics, graphic novels like From Hell and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and pulp-era stories. Mechanically, it’s Powered by the Apocalypse but also uses the mystery system from Brindlewood Bay.

Both the Powered by the Apocalypse “system” and the Carved from Brindlewood license are pretty open. Vincent & Meguey Baker do not lay claim to the 2d6 mechanics of Apocalypse World, but rather use “Powered by the Apocalypse” to signify that a game was inspired by Apocalypse World in some way. There are thousands of PbtA games out there, many of which alter what some folks may have originally thought were key parts of PbtA. Meanwhile, Gauntlet Publishing runs a Discord channel that welcomes people’s ideas that use the Carved from Brindlewood label, and creates channels for each new game that has a name and a draft ready to go.

R’LYEH, by Another Cosmic Zine.

R’lyeh is a hack of Durf.

It adapts the game’s procedures and themes into a ruleset designed for tabletop scenarios of horror, investigation, mystery and madness. 

Both this game and its predecessor are designed to be hacked and re-worked, and are licensed under Creative Commons 4.0. They are fairly rules light and would probably benefit from having some supplements and home-brew! This game looks to be somewhat indifferent to the time period it’s set in, which tells me that you can probably run it in the early 19th century with little adjustments needed.

Cthork Borg, by kumada1.

Cthork Borg is a full conversion hack that adapts MÖRK BORG to a jazz age cosmic horror setting.

Cthork Borg uses the Mork Borg Third-Party License, which is fairly permissive and allows you to reference the mechanics and rules of the game. The creator for Cthork Borg even offers up the colours used in the game so that creators can create using the same colour palette! You’ll also be able to check out some other material that’s already been made for this game on the link above, including extra classes for characters, a guide to the setting, and rules for adding animals!

[feministsouthpark]

South Park Filler Guide - Season 26

Link for Seasons  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

S26E1 Cupid Ye is FILLER

I don't buy the relevancy. Kyle is now best friends with Tolkien and Stan is jealous, even though for the past season we had Stan and Tolkien bond and even in this season they will continue to be a duo. This really seems like a filler. S26E2 The Worldwide Privacy Tour is FILLER

I really like the part when the prince and his wife move into Liane's old house, as they make use of the house being empty for the duration of the Hot Dog home story arc, but as they move out by the next time the house will be used, the impact is nonexistent. S26E3 Japanese Toiler is FILLER

How I would have liked if the shooting turned out to be a season-long mystery of who shot Randy, I was looking at the characters of the crowd for way too long guessing, before I realized everything is pointless in this one. Well, not the real world message, but the in-universe events. S26E4 Deep Learning is CANON

The easiest type of episode to recognize as canon is a relationship centered one. We get our confirmation that Stan's attempts - from S20E7 The Very First Gentlemen Oh, Jeez - to change and win Wendy over worked out. Bebe/Clyde are together as well, as are Herbert/Rick. S26E5 DikinBaus Hot Dogs is CANON

While this is the end of the Hot Dog era, it ends in a way, that counts as loss for Eric, still feeding into the idea of how easily he can lose everything and end up being homeless. S26E6 Spring Break is CANON

For Herbert is falling back into his old ways of campaigning, and depending on what happens in real life, this could have a ton of unwanted consequences... S26E7 Joining the Panderverse is FILLER

It's mostly parallel universe stuff, while Randy fixes an oven. S26E8 (Not Suitable For Children) is CANON

Roger Donovan finds a new partner by the name of Janice, and it seems like she's here to stay. Snow Day is FILLER

Yeah, no... This is the latest season anyway, but I don't believe Mr. Hankey would ever return on the show, end of story. If he does, and thus this video game becomes canon, I will change this post to include that. S26E9 The End of Obesity is FILLER

I have a feeling, that the "never mention Eric's weight again" idea will be forgotten like the numerous times Eric promised not to rip on jewish people anymore.

SPOILER-FREE RUNDOWN

S26E1 Cupid Ye is FILLER S26E2 The Worldwide Privacy Tour is FILLER S26E3 Japanese Toiler is FILLER S26E4 Deep Learning is CANON S26E5 DikinBaus Hot Dogs is CANON S26E6 Spring Break is CANON S26E7 Joining the Panderverse is FILLER S26E8 (Not Suitable For Children) is CANON S26E9 The End of Obesity is FILLER

CANON counter:

S1: 9 out of 13   S2: 3 out of 18   S3: 6 out of 18   S4: 10 out of 17   S5: 8 out of 14   S6: 11 out of 17  S7: 6 out of 15  S8: 4 out of 14  S9: 8 out of 14  S10: 4 out of 14  S11: 4 out of 14  S12: 8 out of 14  S13: 3 out of 14  S14: 7 out of 14  S15: 6 out of 14  S16: 2 out of 14  S17: 4 out of 10 + a highly lore based game  S18: 8 out of 10  S19: 9 out of 10  S20: 10 out of 10 S21: 7 out of 10 + a highly lore based game + 2 DLCs S22: 9 out of 10 S23: 8 out of 10 S24: 4 out of 4 S25: 5 out of 8 S26: 4 out of 9

Overall: 167 out of 329 Personal Note: I'm almost certain we'll have another special that I'll add to this season and I'm almost certain it'll be election-based and therefor canon. When it happens, I'll be back to edit this post. This one is basically just me predicting the future, but to be fair, they are pretty safe bets.

[quakinqueer]

Piggybacking directly off my last post, I'd now like to present my pitch for summer games 2024. Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary friends I present to you:

SMOSH SUMMER GAMES: RENAISSANCE

That's right, you heard me. Medieval/Ren faire theme. Think of the games, think of the costumes, think of the TRAILER. I've seen other people mention this as a potential theme but I'd like to present my own reasoning/ideas:

I've heard multiple people, especially current cast, refer to this current Era as a Renaissance/golden age, so it would frankly be perfect, especially considering it'd be the first in years to feature Anthony.

I just think all the cast would kill it at a lot of the challenges considering a lot of them visit Ren faires pretty often, so there'd really be some serious competition between them all, and if they did dress up for it they'd all look amazing. (Am I biased because I'm currently fixating hard on Damien, the loml, and think he, in particular, would THRIVE with this theme? Yes, yes I am)

We have no way of knowing if a trailer as awesome as the one for Wild West is within their current budget, but presuming for a moment that it is, THINK ABOUT IT! Just imagine the costumes and outfits, maybe a swordfight or two. I'm seeing either a tavern or royal dinner, Chanse and Angela as bards performing, Shayne and Amanda as court jesters, Damien and Trevor as an adventurer and his apprentice, Tommy as a tavern bartender/innkeeper with Spencer as that one regular who never leaves him alone, Ian and Anthony as two kings whose nations (teams) are at war. Preferably directed by Courtney, and maybe also Damien.

[twst-drabbles]

Mozus 1

Summary: Being in Noble Bell College brings out the nostalgia in Mozus. You want him to continue. You like hearing him talk about his wife.

(I was going to write about Rollo since it seemed appropriate, but Mozus took place in my brain instead.)

“And while she never witnessed the bell, she was always enchanted by its sound,” Mozus’s voice was soft in the way one cups a flower blooming in the soft frost of winter: delicately, yet still filled with the strength of love.

“Oh? Tell me more,” you couldn’t help but lean into his view with an exaggerated stretch of your spine, arms gripped behind your back. “Remember, you promised me more stories about her, Mozus.”

Mozus didn’t twitch nor lose any gram of composure. His back was still straight, but it seemed as though gravity added weight to his shoulders. “I remember well. Though I must ask, why are you so interested about such a subject?”

“Because you practically grow twenty years younger whenever you talk about your wife,” it wasn’t a radiant glow so much as it was a gentle light that bloomed from within Mozus’s heart, blanketing his shoulders in a shroud of dancing spring air, “it’s very sweet, seeing how much you love her so. Of course I want to hear you talk about your fond memories all day.”

It was a rare thing to witness from Mozus, so of course you want him to continue speaking of those years, so as long as it doesn’t hurt him. He may be an older gentlemen, and while you don’t have a clue as to what age he became a widower, to lose his wife before the age of sixty seemed far too young to lose a loved one. When you hear of stories of old couples dying, you imagine their backs curved, hands knobby and skin slack with laugh lines so deep in their faces their eyes practically vanish, and yet the twinkle in them is still there.

You don’t know the amount of years that have past after Mozus’s wife’s death, but it seems to have been enough for him to have come to terms with his grief, to speak of her memory, both good and bad.

Perhaps it was too casual an action, lightly tapping your elbow on his arm to goad him into talking more stories, but there’s something about Mozus that you just can’t help but want to be a bother him a bit. And you’re happy when you heard that tired gruff of a sigh come out of him, like you’re an insistent kid from the playground that wanted to listen to stories instead of being on the monkey bars.

“Be patient,” Mozus shook his head but it wasn’t a verbal ‘no,’ “I’ll make do on my promise, but right now we’re on Noble Bell College’s campus, and we’d do well to listen to the years of history embedded within the walls and minds of the students here.”

“Gotcha gotcha,” you straightened yourself out, disappointed but not surprised, “I’ll be sure to remind you if you do forget. You lost that game of cards after all.”

He won’t, you’re sure of it, but you may as well give him a warning in advance that you’re going to be a bother until you get those stories.

Perhaps it was dirty of you to do that, coaxing Mozus into an old card game that just so happened to be relevant to the era he was teaching to Ace, Deuce and Grim, but you had gotten the cards as a gift from one of your faerie buddies and you couldn't pass up the opportunity that was presented to you.

Oh well, what can Mozus do besides complete his promise? Besides, he didn't say no to your request. You bet he does want to talk about her as much as you want to hear about it. Otherwise, why would he indulge you?

See, this is why Mozus is probably your favorite out of all your co-workers, barring his strict conduct.

[lacyscabinet]

Ok…but I rlly can’t get this out of my head! Nat x reader on another team or reader playing another sport. I feel like she would go to all of our games and cheer us on, and tease us if we end up playing her team

A/N: This is so cuteeeeee!!!! I had so much fun writing this!!!! Plus this is the last fic of my "I'm going crazy, let's just post 10 fics in one day" era so I hope to get compliments in my inbox PHAHAHHAHAHAHH

MASTERLIST LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!

Soccer lovers

Nat and you had a thing. Well, not just a thing, but the kind of thing that made your heart do happy dances. She wasn't just your girlfriend; she was your number one fan.

You played on a different team, but every game, there she was, Natalie, cheering you on like it was the championship of all championships. She had this way of making you feel like the most important player on the field.

"GO Y/N KICK THEIR ASS!" she'd shout, her voice cutting through the crowd, and it was like an extra boost of energy just for you.

Even if the game got tough, just one look at Nat in the stands, waving a banner or something equally ridiculous, and you felt ready to conquer the world.

And then one day, you got to know the name of your next rivals: The Yellowjackets.

Your team ended up playing against hers. You could see the mischievous glint in Nat's eyes as she winked at you from across the field.

"Ready to lose, Y/N?" she teased, a playful smirk on her lips.

You rolled your eyes, but secretly, it fueled your competitive spirit. The game became a showdown, and every move you made was fueled by the desire to impress not just your team but Nat herself.

When you scored, you couldn't help but steal a glance at her, and there she was, trying to hide her proud smile from her teammates.

After the game, who you lost because after all, the Yellowjackets were real champions, Nat stood by the changing room's door with a teasing remark and a hug.

"You got lucky this time," You smirked at her, she giggled "Well, I'm going to the nationals loser" sentence followed by her sticking her tongue out.

And as you walked off the field together, her hand in yours, you couldn't even imagine what was about to happen in a few weeks.

[roamingtigress]

Auld Lang Syne and Other Pleasures

Hosea and Dutch make a New Year's Resolution -- to open up their relationship, with none other than the charismatic Josiah Trelawny. In addition to themes of polyamory/open relationships, also contains a mention of period-era homophobia.

Auld Lang Syne and Other Pleasures

by Roaming Tigress

A New Year predictably sets out the drive to reach personal resolutions within the next 365 days. Many have goals for self-improvement; maybe a vice or weight to shed; others are more issues of the heart and mind. Perhaps some are pushing themselves to ease their temper or learn to communicate better. Others have loftier aims; such as finally getting that trip to the Catskills Mountains or somewhere more exotic; France, Spain, or maybe Italy.

Others are still excited about the possibilities that life itself writes resolutions for, which sets out its own course of actions and end games.

Sometimes, one sets a goal and hands the reins over for life to take hold of the bit, and go for a ride.

Dutch and I decided to pursue the latter—we decided to embark on the journey of opening our relationship.

Now, some of you may be saying; after being together for so long, is boredom setting in? Has Dutch got on your last nerve? Does Dutch want a younger model to play with?

I haven't experienced a day of boredom since I got into a relationship with that man. What is boredom? A moment when your mind wonders what it could do versus knowing what to do?

Dutch exasperates me daily, but no, that's not it.

. . . Dutch can be a bit of a cougar, as can I. However, I can safely confirm his status as a flirt for all age categories. I've seen him flirt with younger ladies to try and make an impression (sometimes I suspect to boost his self-esteem). He often overdoes it, coming off more like some overeager teenager than the smooth talker he thinks he is. I've also seen him flirt with an old general who could have been old enough to have been his father (and said general, though amused, brushed him off with the tried and true 'I'm old enough to be your father').

Does this mean that our status as soulmates is over?

Far from it.

At the end of the day, after flirting with the prettiest ladies, the most handsome of gentlemen, it's me that Dutch wants to dance with. It's me who he wants to hold onto and whisper silly sweet nothings to. He wants me to call him an idiot and ruffle his hair as I wake up in the morning, with him on top of me as if I was just part of the bed.

And it's me that he loves.

No, our decision to open our relationship was based on our trust. It would be another way to add a little more fun to our relationship, to satiate our appetite for excitement and adventure in a way that shouldn't get every lawman and Pinkerton on our trail.

We would open our doors to close friends, and maybe for fun, good acquaintances that we run into at the local saloons. I have seen the type of glances in our direction from the sheep farmers even in Valentine; they know, we know. They are strong, burly men that I'm sure could handle Dutch and I just fine, maybe with a little wrangling.

The idea excites Dutch.

For all his talk and bravado, Dutch is a man who likes to be controlled, and dominated. For me, it adds a dimension to his being; in many ways, that man is not unlike an onion; he is layered, and can be delectable with the right dish. He is a little hairy (though he does much 'manscaping'; I have more hair on my chest than he does), and he is a little smelly -- think of something of a combination of horse, cigar, and cowboy. Delicious!

The first we would open our door to though would be the charismatic, enigmatic Josiah Trelawny.

He is not a big, burly man with the build of a bison, but he is a dashingly handsome fellow. And, less shallow, the three of us have been good friends for some time. He comes and goes when it comes to involvement with the gang, but it's tolerated for the friendship and loyalty he's given us.

Josiah is a man who leads a double life. He has a family; a wife, Donna, who's not lacking in Irish feistiness and good humour, and two children, Cornelius and Tarquin, names you might not be shocked he'd give children. Like us, Josiah and Donna wanted to add a little 'something' to their relationship, a little spice to their delectable flavour.

I have caught the flirting glances between us, which, over time, progressed to hands resting on shoulders a little longer than a casual friendly pat. Eye contact between us all had become longer. Jokes became more insinuating.

It was only natural that the Trelawnys were the starting point for this new journey; the chemistry was perfect.

But the lady and the gentlemen would part for the evening this evening.

Donna had chosen to go to a New Year's ball with fine lady friends in Saint Denis. They had come over from Belfast to visit family for the holidays. Later, she took two of the ladies -- Bridget and Deirdrie -- to host their own New Year's celebration in their cozy city apartment. The Trelawnys lead layered almost doubled lives. Her pastor father boasted Donna had long been a 'good church girl',. Imagine his shock at learning that his 'good church girl' had an eye for the ladies as she did for the gentlemen!

Dutch's excitement was palpable as he heard the carriage come to a stop at the Rhodes Parlour House. It was a common destination, particularly on New Year's Eve, but, Dutch was convinced it was Josiah.

And for once, Dutch was right.

Our hotel room door was knocked enthusiastically, and Dutch opened the door with matching enthusiasm. He ushered Josiah in rather quickly and carefully; Rhodes isn't friendly to people of our orientation. We were armed of course; we set our gun belts on a nearby chair, but he knew those within the parlour room were as well. It's allegedly a place of proper repute, but there's always a chance that those of less than adequate repute will be lurking about, with intentions to crash our little party.

"Ahhhh, the old guards! Welcoming the wayward into the fold, are we?" Trelawny's theatrical mannerisms in his entrance were out on full display; I would have been disappointed if they weren't.

"Never a minute late!" I smirk, pouring some wine into three glasses and setting them on the night table-slash-dresser. Our wine was a vintage 1880 white from Italy, with distinct fruity hints; we like to spoil ourselves. We might have pilfered it from behind the bar of the saloon; Dutch played the part of the drunk flirt with the bartender, and I did the rest.

"And If you weren't so charming, we would have given you the boot for that by now!" I let out a chuckle all the same, taking his coat and hanging it up on the rack. Josiah had also brought a vintage wine with him, an 1870 from Burgandy.

Dutch took the bottle from Josiah and set it by our bottle, but not before taking a cheeky sip from it.

"I'll have to keep working the charisma then, don't I?" Trelawny's Trans-Atlantic was a little lower in tone than his usual, and took the glass I offered him. He sipped it while casting a little flirting eye contact.

Dutch couldn't help himself to a little teasing, and raised his glass to him before having a sip. "Work that magic any harder, and you’ll have us under your spell."

That mustache of his is twisted up into a dimply smile, a spark in his eyes. "Of course, I'm not so sure you haven't done that to us already." He's got a hip popped out as he sips on his glass, his other hand propped on the wall. He's not so subtly flirting; he's bringing attention to that waist of his, which Josiah's eyes (and maybe mine) may have settled on.

The dim lighting gently accentuated our features, highlighting our most handsome. Cheekbones were gently washed in a warm glow, glinting off our eyes. There's something to be said about this new vibrant electric lighting, but I find it lacks the 'character' for setting the mood that the old oil lamps and candles never fail to deliver.

"There's always a few more 'tricks' that I could teach you two." Josiah's voice came out as one long purr as he took a fine cigar that I had offered from our box, a Christmas gift from Dutch.

"Such as . . . ?" I asked with intrigue, as a knowing smile appeared on my annoyingly thin lips.

Josiah leaned a little, his mustache turned into a widening smile. He knows that I know.

"I'm a little overdressed for the first trick."

Someone in the room thought we had a bit too much on.

Dutch had started unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, casting us a playful smirk. Knowing him as well as I do, I could surmise that he thought that Josiah had lingered a little too long with me and was growing a little jealous, a little needy. Showing that chest out a little more would get attention on him -- and it did, for us both. When Dutch feels like he isn't getting the amount of attention he feels he deserves, out comes his 'look at me' acts.

"Someone's a little eager," I grin, and come right over, giving a kiss to his cheek and sling an arm around his upper torso, that he predictably leaned into as I pull him in close.

"Never change."

'Never change, you frustrating, adorable idiot, never change.'

I knew at the back of my mind that Dutch's insecurities -- of which that jealousy had come from -- would need to be worked on together as a unit. If I am to occasionally let myself get whisked away by Josiah from time to time, he'll need to be reassured that Trelawny wouldn't turn me into a literal disappearing act.

I smiled though as I pictured Donna stealing him away on those evenings; she would put up with no nonsense from him. They'd go from pub to pub, sampling a little brew here and there, with a few lawmen in pursuit. Alcohol can produce a Dutch that can be nostalgic, but also a little silly and well, when a nostalgic, silly Dutch is let loose, anything could happen. Donna with a few under her, and you could have a riot. They'd eventually lose them, though and maybe spend a bit of time canoodling before they'd return.

Dutch will be fine.

Dutch brushed it off, though he leaned into my arm. "Just getting ready for the magic show to start." He added with a wink, slipping his shoulders out of his black coat -- that beautiful, velvety black coat. There is a bit of wearing it now, but I'll be damned if it wasn't his most attractive outfit.

Trelawny set aside his glass and came over, taking off Dutch's hat. "Hats count as clothing. We need to have as minimal on for our trick to work." When Dutch unexpectedly snagged his arm in his jacket, as if distracted by the task at hand, I helped him pull it off.

"We don't want anything to block the flow of the magic. Haberdashery is so awfully blocking."

Oh, Trelawny.

With a wave of his hat directed at himself, Josiah's jacket had disappeared in a puff of smoke. Dutch and I stood slack-jawed at what we had seen. We knew well of his tricks, but it was something else having them played out before in our own private magic show.

"Is the audience impressed?" He teased, slowly waving the hat in front of him. "Do they want more?"

Dutch was just as quick on the banter trigger. He sat half on the bed, a leg propped up on his chest, sipping the remainder of his wine. "We paid for the ticket, we expect the show!"

Josiah was one step ahead of the man with the slightly less impressive mustache.

"Patience, my dear man, patience!"

With one swift wave of the hat, to our delight, his clothes disappeared into apparent thin air.

Before us stood a tall, handsomely sculpted man -- posed casually against the doorframe with Dutch's trademark black hat twirling on a finger. He was lean but not thin; rather fittingly elegant. Some nice musculature was apparent; the light of the candle flickered them, his form, his waist, and his collarbone. He felt us looking him over as if he was some fine piece of artwork -- and he loved it.

"Now, audience, are we ready for the audience participation aspect of the show?"

I lean back on the bed with Dutch, slowly sipping the remainder of the wine while studying the splendid creature before us. He was ever so theatrical in his request for consent.

"We are . . . "

Josiah took his time shedding us of our clothing, layer by layer, in a slow burn reveal. There was a particularly cheeky twinkle in his eyes, even more than usual; he liked what he was seeing. I look over at Dutch who cast him a coy expression as he leaned back to put his glass on the table, but I know he's loving the attention. He's Dutch, after all. And Dutch craves -- no, needs -- attention, on the level of fish needing water.

I felt at once excited, maybe a little nervous as we sat on that bed, now nude before Trelawny and also feeling . . . A little shy.

I'm used to being in the nude with Dutch of course. And there was always the chance that, given our lifestyle, the gang would catch us bathing in the nude in whatever body of water we were closest to. And that was exciting.

But it felt different now.

There had been a shift in dynamics, of which I was no longer in control.

Josiah did not take control by force intimidation, or even his magic, but by charm, his mannerisms, and his confidence. And we fell for it as those he -- we -- had conned countless rabble.

We can manipulate a person or two but Josiah is a bit of a master of that himself.

It was that shift had left me feeling that shyness, that vulnerability. I was eased out of my comfort zone of being in control.

And as if sensing, Josiah had toned down the theatrics, as if not wanting to intimidate. I was not uncomfortable, but he didn't want to risk it. This was a new dynamic and he wanted to tread carefully. He knew that when Donna would come into the picture she would run the show, and wanted to form a bridge between us three before the queen would ascend her throne.

He gently patted me on the shoulder and then went over to sit on the bed, where he literally started Dutch out of his hand with a square of cheese and crackers we had set aside on a plate on our nightstand. I smiled as I sat on the opposite side of Josiah; I had some competition now, and I think I loved it.

"Careful, he bites!" I lightly 'warn', as he lightly kissed Josiah's fingertips.

"Lies!" Dutch snorted.

Trelawny grinned, tapping Dutch playfully on the nose. "Oh, I think it's It's a risk I could take!" Sure enough, with a second tap, Dutch scrunched up his face in the manner he does when he's annoyed, and gave his finger a nip, seizing his fingertip between his teeth with a playfulness that belied his expression.

Josiah feigned shock, tapping him on the nose again when Dutch snuck in a nibble. "Naughty pussy cat!"

I leaned in with a smirk. "I warned you."

"Oh, I think I could have him good and tamed in no time!" Josiah flashed me another dashing smile and ruffled Dutch's hair gently before he pulled us both in close in a warm snuggle. Getting naked can have its disadvantages, namely getting cold, but the body warmth between us all was wonderful.

Dutch's position within our dynamic had also shifted; he became submissive to us both, a position that I was certain was part of his grand scheme for paradise. And now, with extra attention, he'll be even more insufferable.

Thanks, Josiah.

I then offered Trelawny a slice of cheese and cracker, subtly surrendering my standing, which he ate with one little nibble at a time. He mirrored the gentle kiss on his fingertips that Dutch gave him (pre-mauling).

We lean in and kiss Trelawny on each side of his neck; they're the soft, familiar kisses one would give a spouse while getting breakfast ready. He almost purrs as he leans in towards us in alternating directions, encouraging us. "My gentlemen . . . " He slowly drew out his words as he took one of my hands, squeezed it, and softly traced the side of his thumb over on top of it.

"We'll take this journey slow, old friends."

He slipped an arm around behind Dutch and gave a hint of a love handle a gentle squeeze. Dutch let out the manliest little squeak, but I know he loves it.

Josiah's voice was teasing, affectionate.

"That includes you too!" He gave Duch ribs an affectionate little poke to emphasize, smirking when Dutch squeaked again and buried his flushed face into his shoulder.

I leaned my head on Josiah's toned shoulder, watching the exchange with amusement. Now I can safely guess that Dutch wasn't feeling particularly shy per se, unlike Yours Truly, though he was a little more quiet than his usual -- something few would complain about. I suspect was taking it all in, and he looked like a puppy cuddled up to him.

Puppylike. Dutch was being puppylike. Soaking up as much attention and affection as he could get and was eager to take in more.

I rarely see this playful side to Dutch with anyone other than myself; it made my heart swell to two sizes.

"I know you'll try to be a rebel but we'll keep you on the straight and narrow." Trelawny paused as he realized, giving Dutch's belly a gentle stroke; such a sweet gesture only encouraged him and he was soon nearly sprawled out onto his lap, quietly begging.

"Well, narrow."

Josiah happily obliged Dutch's silent request; Dutch just had put on his irresistible puppy dog act. He gave my hand one more squeeze before he pulled me up closer so that I was snuggled up against Dutch with Trelawny as our base; effectively our big spoon. Josiah leaned his head against mine, chuckling lowly, the sound rumbled through his chest and reverberated against us. It was a strangely comforting sensation, maybe because it reminded me of a heartbeat, a reminder that are living, breathing beings with rich potential ahead.

'The very idea of keeping Dutch on the straight and narrow!'

Still, I smile and take hold of Josiah's hand again, linking my fingers in between his. "Ten minutes the new year, gentlemen. Ten minutes until . . . " My voice took on a slight waver.

"This is official."

It seemed only natural to start this journey on a clean slate -- and it was already off to a promising start.

I will come out of my shyness and I know it'll only be a matter of time until Dutch won't shut up, but for the time being, I will revel in the quiet, the warmth of being situated among two warm bodies. There is something warmly intimate about such skin-to-skin content. At once it was deeply romantic, indescribably comforting even when I felt I didn't need to be comforted.

It felt . . . Right.

We will be all right.

A gamma-phone some distance away in the parlour house played a lively tune, as some gentlemen and ladies sang 'Auld Lang Syne.' Dutch though, was oblivious. He was drifting off to sleep, indicated by his head flopping against mine. He rarely stays up to see the new year roll in, and I'm never far off. There was a time when we'd be among those revellers staying up at all hours, but as the years ticked on by, perhaps the Sand Man coming for us early was a merciful attempt to slow the march of time, if even by a few hours. Though this year, we nearly made it; missing by perhaps a few minutes.

Josiah wrapped his arms around as much of us as he could gather, the lean build of them belied their, strength. He leaned down, softly kissing us on the tops of our heads, so as to not stir us awake.

He would forego sharing and drinking that vintage he had brought over, but what's a drink when your arms are filled with those you cherish?

"Happy New Year, gentlemen."

[markerofthemidnight]

I’ve just finished watching its latest video and I have to share this project with you all:

Ladies and gentlemen, go fucking watch this playlist. It’s a collection of concepts for a monster collector game called Apocryphal, which can only be described as “Pokemon if it was an eldritch horror game that took place in the Victorian era.”

In what is a surprise to absolutely no one, this concept fucking rocks.

[wolfpants]

wolfpants kinkuary '23 masterlist

Oh god! Oh Merlin! I did it! 28 days and 28 fics. Did I stick to my 1k wordcount limit per fic? I did not. Did I have a lot of fun? I absolutely did. Do I feel like hibernating now? Yes, I do! Thank you to everyone who has been reading along as I've posted - your comments/kudos/sharing/DMs and asks have meant the absolute world. I love you all from the bottom of my heart!

Wolfpants Kinkuary '23 Masterlist, by ship

🐚💘🌊🏹⛲️🌒

Drarry All Hues in His Controlling - E, 1.8k (roleplay) If You Show Me Yours - E, 1.5k (exhibitionism) The Night Before - E, 1.2k (cockwarming) Nightcall - E, 1k (begging) Obedience - E, 1.2k (praise kink) Summertime Pleasures - E, 1.8k (feet) Your Breath, My Lungs - E, 1.7k (overstimulation) - Dron Gentlemen's Club - E, 1k (medical play) Yours & Mine - E, 2.3k (possessiveness)

-

Next Gen Hymn to Apollo - Scorpius/Teddy, E, 1.9k (first time) Music, When Soft Voices Die - James/Albus, E, 1.9k (chastity) With the Dew, My Golden Hair - Scorpius/Albus, E, 1k (hair pulling)

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Cross Gen Almost Us - Sirius/Harry, E, 678 (intercrural) The Classics - Sirius/Draco, E, 1.1k (genderbend) C*cksuckers Anonymous - Harry/Scorpius, E, 801 (gloryhole) The Hand That Feeds - Draco/Albus, E, 1.3k (dacryphilia) Galvanize - Ron/Scorpius, M, 1.2k (accidental arousal) Love is a Verb - Harry/Teddy, E, 1.6k (piercings) Run on Gasoline - Draco/James, E, 1.4k (hate sex)

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Group Enterrement de vie de garçon - Riktor/Drarry/Deamus, E, 2.6k (orgy) The Game - Draco/Harry/Dean/Seamus, E, 1.4k (cnc) The House Sitters - Ron/Albus/Scorpius, E, 2.k (comeplay) Truth's Day-Star - Sirius/Draco/Harry, E, 1.8k (size kink)

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Misc. Golden Era Pairings Beauty in the Sleeping Forest - Charlie/Harry, M, 721 (somnophilia) Hell Bent for Leather - Draco/Charlie, E, 1.1k (fabric play) A Room with a View in the Flowering City - Draco/Bill, E, 1k (wax) Seat You Higher than the Stars - Ron/Harry, E, 1.8k (fisting) Viridian - Blaise/Draco, E, 1.3k (humiliation)

-

entire series on ao3

[stardropsaloongossiptrain]

Bachelor/ettes and Horror

How would our ladies and gentlemen fair with scary things?

Bachelors:

Sebastian -- He loves all things horror. Has opinions on every subgenre, slasher rankings, and probably some amount of memorabilia. He vastly prefers sci-fi horror (Alien, the Thing, Pandorum) or supernatural. Plays indie horror games on his computer. If the farmer is a horror hound, they will have a friend in Sebastian.

Shane -- He's not really the type to put horror on, but it's never bothered him. He likes goofy 70s-80s stuff best, and I don't think he would enjoy 'cerebral' horror. Thinks the special effects are cool. Will mix up the big slasher names.

Elliott -- It may be controversial to put him high, but I almost put him higher. He does NOT like anything gory or icky, but I think he would really love older horror from the 40s-50s and giallo films. There's some more artistic ones that he would probably like as well. He would prefer to read horror, and has read quite a few classics. It's not his favorite genre by any means, but sometimes gets a taste for it in late fall.

Sam -- He's not a fan. He's seen some big ones with Sebastian, but he's fairly squeamish and can't handle intense gore. Gets scared pretty easily. Really wishes he could handle them, his besties love it.

Alex -- Does not like horror. Doesn't understand why someone would want to feel scared. He isn't easily grossed out, but doesn't like seeing horror violence. Simply Does Not Get It.

Harvey -- He's baby. Easily scared, even when it's 50's era stuff. Never expects a jumpscare, too much empathy for violence, will think the house is haunted for two weeks after Poltergeist. He's comedic levels unable to handle anything remotely spooky.

---

Bachelorettes

Abigail -- On par with Sebastian, maybe even more into it. Loves all things grody and scary, UNLESS spiders are involved. Better than Sebastian at recommending stuff to people who don't know anything about where to start. Loves supernatural stuff best. Orders a lot of horror comics online.

Maru -- Lives with Sebastian, so he's definitely shown her a number of things way too early when she bugged him to hang out. Is not easily frightened, and finds science based stuff really interesting. Thinks gore effects are cool and is really interested in behind the scenes stuff. Fave is probably something like Reanimator or Chopping Mall.

Leah -- She's not super into scary movies, but doesn't mind them every once in a while. Likes artier stuff like Suspiria or Pan's Labyrinth.

Emily -- Not really a fan, but might watch an older movie around Spirits Eve. Like Elliott, more likely to read something with horror concepts than watch it. Would probably like House of Leaves.

Haley -- Does not like horror. Thinks all horror is gory slashers, will not open herself up to more.

Penny -- Gets so fucking scared it's not funny. They make her sick. Does not enjoy any type of horror, even some drama is too much to bear. Really only enjoys watching happy things.

[asksythe]

Wei Ying might actually be long-lost royalty (mark 3) but it doesn’t actually mean all that much. Historical tragic, super spicy gay drama! - An Essay (1)

So I’ve been asked: now that we know MDZS happened during Wei Jin Northern and Southern Dynasty era and that the name of one of the dynasties (Northern Wei 北魏) is the same Wei in Wei Ying Wei Wuxian (魏). How come nobody in MDZS ever remarked on Wei Ying having the same surname as the royal family? 

There are three reasons for this: 

1. The royal house name of Northern Wei was not Wei. It was Yuan… and Tuoba before that. 

Yeah… 

Northern Wei eventually fractured into East and West Wei, with each branch of the royal family (Yuan and Tuoba branches) taking power on each side. 

The other Wei state in the same Six Dynasties Period was Cao Wei. The ruling house name was Cao… as in … Cao Cao… of the Romance of The Three Kingdoms fame… Yeah…   

The actual royal house with the Wei surname that you are looking for came from the Wei Kingdom during Warring States (4BCE to 2BCE), i.e., the period of chaos and war right before unification by Qin Shi Huang. I.e., over half a millennium before MDZS timeline (Although this is probably the era when the great Houses were founded: Wen, Jiang, Jin, Nie, and Lan. The book did mention the time before Wen Mao, the founder of House Wen, brought about the fall of the sect system to be a time of wars and chaos and that the Burial Mound was a Holy Mountain that was corrupted due to the countless dead well before Wen Mao’s time). 

Wei Kingdom 魏国 started out as a vassal state (called the State of Wei). Through generations of achievements and war alliances, this state evolved to become a Kingdom. The first Wei King was Wei Ying (魏嬰). Yes. That Wei Ying. Although the Ying here is a variation of the way Wei Ying’s birthname is spelled in canon with the meaning remaining the exact same. His posthumous title is Wei Hue Wang (King Wei Hue).

Although if you are looking for the historical counterpart of Wei Ying (and Jiang Cheng), you will have to look three generations down at his great-great-grandson Wei Wuji (Wuji being another way to write Wuxian), also known as Lord Xinling (Xinling Jun). Wei Wuji and his elder brother’s life is more or less what happened to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng Jiang Wangyin in MDZS. Except in the real world, it’s Jiang Cheng who is gay (Bi, really) and whose lover’s title (Lungyang Jun) is used as a way to refer to gay porn for 2000 years after his death. Historical Wei Wuxian still died of a broken heart because his brother betrayed him though. Unlike novel Jiang Cheng, however, historical Jiang Cheng (King Wei Anli, elder brother to Wei Wuji) was said to have died of an illness supposedly caused by hearing his younger brother had died of a broken heart. Fans of tragic, complicated, highly spicy gay romance, eat your heart out. 

Ladies and gentlemen: the historical Jiang Cheng, King Wei Anli (in modern Chinese cinema), also the man who introduced gay porn into Chinese literary history.

(Modern Chinese cinema representation of Lungyan Jun: historical Jiang Cheng’s beau and the man whose title became synonymous with gay porn for literally two thousand years and counting) 

(Ancient gay porn featuring not-historical-Jiang-Cheng and not-Lungyang-jun. In ancient China, novels were written based on real concurrent events with names switched out. Pay close attention to the hair ornaments of our actors here! The one on the left is wearing a hair crown typically reserved for royal men, whereas the one on the right is wearing a cap reserved for male court officials)

Historical Wei Ying! By which I mean Lord Xinling Wei Wuji (modern Chinese game), the war hero who died of a broken heart because his big brother don’t wanna play with him no more. 

Incidentally, Wei Wuji and his brother King Wei Anli were the first people in recorded history to own Tiger Tally (Hufu).

But I shall talk about all this ancient gay drama and the OG tiger tally another day (So long, historical Jiang Cheng! You are still a horrible brother, you little shit!).    

2. Slavery System of Wei Jin Southern and Northern Dynasties Era. Wei Jin Era really is just Warring States Era Mark 2. War Harder! 

That is to say, being of royal blood is not what it’s cracked up to be during this specific era. Wei Jin Northern and Southern Dynasties Era (also called the Six Dynasties Era) is kinda a special case in post-Qin-unification Chinese history for the simple fact that China was anything but unified during this period. 

To understand this period, you have to look at the sheer brutality and the miraculous nature of Qin unification. Qin Shi Huang did something that nobody before him had ever done. He united hundreds of different ethnic groups through murder, violence, and a case of genocide here and there. He forced enemies that had been feuding against each other for literal centuries to become fellow countrymen. He razed temples to the ground. He tore down capitals. He burned books and then burned the men who read such books beside them. He erased entire languages and cultures and forged a single, united country out of all that. For all that he contributed to China, the title tyrant is not wrongly awarded to him. 

But with such a strong, charismatic, forceful leader, you eventually have to face the big problem: their death. The Qin Dynasty really didn’t last long after Qin Shi Huang’s passing. The Han dynasty right after was even more short-lived. Some historians even called that dynasty a stillbirth. The thing that followed was a period of pure chaos and violence where differences and ethnic tension that had brewed throughout Qin and Han dynasties finally exploded. 

Thus, was born the Wei Jin Northern and Southern Dynasties, where the previously united Empire fractured into various petty kingdoms warring against each other. At one point, there were sixteen petty kingdoms where a united empire once was. What followed were approximately three centuries of various ancient states, petty kingdoms, cultures, and ethnic groups killing, fucking, cannibalizing, marrying into each other, massacring each other, tearing, and mushing apart and into each other until they eventually became a much more homogenized cultural and racial amalgamation and arrived (with a minor hiccup at the Song dynasty, another very short-lived dynasty) at the Tang Dynasty, which was considered a golden age in Chinese history and lasted for four centuries.

So then, in an era like this, being a reigning royal is not that big of a deal as you may think it is. In fact, this specific era was known as the era where the Noble Houses and not Kings were the ones who held the real power. Yes, noble houses like the Wen, the Jiang, the Jin, the Nie, and the Lan. Because there was no effective central power, the historical counterparts of the Houses in MDZS held power that they wouldn’t in other dynasties. Not only did they own vast territories and held legal power over them, but they also charged tax brackets that were previously only charged by Emperors or Kings. They could gather army conscripts and organize their own armed forces. 

In the novel MDZS, the cultivator Houses acted exactly like the historical Noble Houses during the real Wei Jin Northern and Southern Dynasties. They held massive territories and could exert certain levels of administrative and legal power over them. They held hunting rights, tax rights. In the novel, during the Sunshot campaigns, all cultivator houses started gathering conscripts and volunteers for their Sunshot war. And finally, under Jin Guangyao’s reign, they built massive military structures. This would be unthinkable in both the era before and after this one specific era. 

Ah… going too far off the topic. I digress. The point is, being actual reigning kings during this era is really not what it seems, let alone being long-lost royals. Because being long-lost royals means your royal family probably already kicked the bucket in historical Chinese Game of Thrones… and that means… you are a slave. 

Yep, slavery. During this time in ancient China, society was separated into a strict nine-ranked caste system. Depending on which rank a person was, they might have certain rights (and duties) and could do certain jobs, and enjoy some level of protection from the provincial government. But if you are low on this ranking scale, you are effectively… not a human at all, not in the eye of the law. 

Indeed, the lower ranks of this caste system were effectively serfs, who, if they dared leave the territory of their lord, would open themselves up to slave cartels. For example: Jin Guangyao’s mom, Meng Si, during this era would be categorized as Jianren (賤人, lit: petty person, this is the insult Madam Yu used against Wang Lingjiao), an owned Jianren at that. This means that even if she quit the brothel and took young Meng Yao with her, her caste as Jianren would still remain… which means she and her son Meng Yao would be forbidden from official examinations, would not enjoy protection from the law, would not be able to own particular business, would not be able to buy and own properties, and could only do lowly, menial jobs reserved for Jianren… unless she could pay an exorbitant amount of money and favor to a local magistrate to have him create new documentations for her and push her up on the caste system. Should she run and leave the city where she was based in, without the right documentation, she would open herself and her son up to roving slave cartels in the unprotected territory between city-states. Once she fell into slavery, her status as a slave, alongside her son, would be effectively legal in the eyes of the law (what passed for it) at that time. 

Slavery is legal during Wei Jin era. In fact, slavery in China was legal up until very recently, in the last century. It was accepted and practiced wide-spread. 

By that same system, if you were a citizen of a city-state on the losing side of a war, you would also be effectively a slave. Under this sytem, entire cities and small kingdoms of people were enslaved. Indeed, this is how Qi Huang Wen branch including Wen Qing and Wen Ning were treated in the novel: as slaves of the losing side. Originally they were stationed at Ganquan 甘泉 until Jin Zixun came and forced Wen Ning and other Wen people to Qiongqi Path, which was owned by the Jin. Because they were effectively slaves, even when they did nothing wrong, no one stood up for them. No one but Wei Ying.    

This is even pointed out when Wei Ying said in the novel that because they are Wen, so they are not humans. Is that what you mean? When he went to Qiongqi Path the first time. In the eye of Chinese society of that time, the Wen... really weren’t considered humans at all.

So the point is, even if Wei Ying is long-lost royalty, in the eyes of the people in MDZS, he would be effectively a slave or from slave blood. So, Madam Yu did actually have a point when she repeatedly insulted Wei Ying (and his father) and treated them as she would a slave. Because in the eye of society of that time, they were slaves. It didn’t matter how talented Wei Changzhe was or that he was married to the disciple of Baoshan Sanren, a peer of the founders of all 5 great houses, he was still a slave. It didn’t matter how talented Wei Ying was or that he was a war hero or that he spoke truth, because he came from lowly blood, because he had no House and no Clan behind them, anyone at all (Jin Zixun, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Cheng, effectively the entire cultivator world) would feel like they could push him around and insult him without fearing retaliations. In an era without law, if you are alone, then you are automatically guilty. 

 3. Real-life cultivators are actually super anti-authority anarchist hippies. Also, MDZS world is probably heading for cultivator’s Armageddon. Also, Lan Qiren is full of shit. Two of the three Founding Sages of Daoism (real-life basis of cultivation and xianxia) say so.  

-To Be Continued (I’m tired. This is longer than I thought. I’ll complete this another day)- 

[diablo-that-first-spark]

Hell has frozen over: I am deviating from the lore

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my dearest cupcakes, you read that correctly. Hell is indeed an icy wasteland now and the Seven Evils need full winter gear to function. I am officially ignoring certain parts of the lore and deviating back to a previous version of them.

For those who don’t really know me, here’s why this is a big deal:

Lore is sacred.

Respect the goddamn source material.

These are the two golden rules I always follow, no matter the fanart or fanfiction I create (I’m talking about serious attempts here, not jokey sketches or memes, of course). I do not trample over established lore and rules in a world, just because I want to tell my story. I always do my best to make my story and characters work within the guidelines already set by the original creators. I don’t retcon backstories, I don’t blackwash, I especially don’t rainbow-wash, all of these are shameful practices in my eyes, and I would not be caught dead doing them.

Anyway.

With Diablo 4 out and its spin-off stories being published, I am finally forced to partially let go of the “Lore is sacred” golden rule… or at the very least, stay true to a former version of said lore. Namely, the Diablo 3 and the Sin War trilogy versions.

Now, it is obvious that Blizzard is doing its best to ignore D3 altogether in D4, outside of bringing back a few older locations like Maghda’s boss arena or the Forgotten Overlook. Returning D3 characters would rather die than mention anything from that game, while D2 characters (who should be dead 3 times over by this point) can’t shut the hell up about their former adventures.

It is also an undisputed fact that D3 is the least popular entry in the franchise among the hardcore non-fanart-creating part of the fandom. A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless.

Now, I am not saying Blizzard is a shit company, they don’t know what they are doing, I know better. No. Stories change. Things get retconned. Characters rewritten. Course-correction is necessary. That happens to almost every long-running story, it is entirely normal.

I just don’t like these changes, I think they take away from the lore overall. Attempts to erase my favorite entry from the franchise won’t make me happy, naturally, even if I wholeheartedly understand the purely logical and business reasons behind it.

So! Not to mince words, here is a list of every retcon I can think of from the top of my head, that I am going to apply to That First Spark:

1) Nephalem are weak no-name peasants who look perfectly human

Going by D3 and Sin War rules, in TFS nephalem are absolute powerhouses who survive insane shit being thrown at them, just because they are nephalem. Their power level is either off the charts or much higher than normal, both in magic and in physical strength. As a personal preference, I will also make the First Generation Nephalem (namely, Rathma) a little bit inhuman. I lllloved it when we still believed Elias would be Rathma, his design was perfect for the role. I will give Rathma a bit of a redesign for Act IV but his slight but disturbing inhuman appearance will remain so. No full-blown furry designs, that is just ridiculous, good lord.

(One day, I might write a rant about the current state of the Nephalem-era of history, because it is an absolute travesty. One day.)

2) Inarius is just a “lieutenant” of Tyrael

Yeah, nah, eff that. Rhythm brothers, till the day I die.

3) Rathma becomes the First Necromancer after he corrects a very plot-convenient mistake.

(Not going into more detail because the Rathma graphic novel is still very new.)

I’m going back to the original lore, which is far more interesting: Linarian had started a rebellion among his generation, after he realized their children were born weaker because of Inarius’ meddling. The rebellion goes horribly wrong, Inarius manages to kill most of the first generation nephalem with the aid of the Worldstone then he disappears and suffers a fate of isolation that eventually breaks his mind. On the other side, Linarian goes insane over the guilt of leading his fellow nephalem to their deaths, until the dragon Trag’Oul finds him and teaches him of the Balance, giving him the name “Rathma” (“Keeper of the Balance”).

None of this is made up by me, btw. This is how the lore was in the Sin War trilogy books.

4) Demons can be born/manufactured from the blood of angels

That is just the dumbest stuff Diablo Immortal has ever pulled, like hell I will work with that.

5) Lyndon didn’t kill Rea, instead he allows her to make his life hell

Hells, I already retconned it with the ending of Act I, without even trying. I saw into the future with this!

On a personal note: this is the most terrible story line they could have given to Lyndon, I hate everything about it, and I wish it to the deepest pits of hell. He deserves better. Grimdark is utter trash.

6) Lilith is an unkillable boss bitch that walks away from lethal crippling injuries like it’s nothing

Oh do not worry, she is going to be an absolute nightmare to take down. Quiet and co. will have to work for it hard. But originally Lilith has never been the “strahng wahmen unkillable boss bitch” modern day trope, and she won’t be that in TFS either. I have to be clever with what kind of injuries she may or may not receive.

7) Kingsport is on the south-western shore of the Western Continent

TFS works with the Diablo 3 version of the world map. If there is a location that is needed for the story, which shows up on the D4 map, but not the D3 map, I will bring that one detail in. There is nothing big behind this decision, I just grew used to the D3 map.

8) Lilith initiates the Purge of the Renegades because of Linarian's vision her son told her about

I am working with the Book of Cain version: Lilith assumes Inarius is already plotting the genocide of the children when he withdraws to meditate on the right choice. So she kills every angel and demon so that should Inarius want to destroy the children, he would remain utterly alone on a dead world. Her gambit would pay off in the end, although not before Inarius banishes her.

---

I am sure there will be a bit more retcons down the line, but for now, these are the critical nodes I see from here.

It probably doesn’t sound too bad for you, and I agree, I am probably making a mountain out of a mole-hill here. However, I have my own code to follow in creative works, and I honestly feel like this deviation from my usual methods warrants a heads-up.

So, anyway, back to the drawing board! I wish I had an ETA to give you cupcakes about the arrival of Act IV, but unfortunately I don’t. Thank you for your continuous patience!

2024.08.26.