#finally the scene was updated

[leenfiend]

what's ur type first < prev next >

[vicartless-bowuigi-space-au]

Quiet before the storm.

Chapter 24 of Space AU out now!

[ladyespera]

You have to choose: whose lives are important to you?

In order to be a SOLDIER, you have to have dreams. And honor.

[budd-ie]

“Mu Qing is too logical for his own good” is such a real problem that he deals with and as tragic as it makes his life I also think it’s really funny when someone is accusing him of something and instead of telling them to shut up or leave him alone the first thing he does is pull out the 95 fucking theses detailing every single thing wrong with their argument WITH historical evidence and additional considerations from scholarly psychology articles, MLA format works cited and completely annotated. It could use an editor and some bias correction, but he actually makes a pretty good point. anyways tgcf ace attorney au when

[greenheartart]

A new chapter appears!

Anxiety is hard. Trust is harder. Everyone is just trying to do what they think is best, with mixed results.

[thelonelyshore-if]

I am making great progress with Yasmin's scene tonight after a number of adjustments and rewrites. The best part is that I'm playing one of my favorite games: "How many sets of choices can I nest before CSIDE starts crying".

[divineatrophy]

dots ch7 is finally getting thereee

[paperforstars]

I was just gonna post on twitter but wanted to share bees awesome fic on here too def recommend ToT I can’t express how inspired I am to draw for this fic ahh and lots a props to X.com/dust_2_dust_ for their drawings of human bill, he has his drawings sprinkled throughout the fic I love it. All of the drawings and dialogue from the fic, all I did was exorcize it out of my mind, all the props to them!!!

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 15

We are set to arrive on Fendaar in two cycles. As we are currently stuck on the SIIR Noxos, I have concluded that the passages of time that I am free of duties would be best spent continuing to observe the human. The human, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans in that matter, as it took me an unusually long amount of time to locate her.

As I eventually found her, she seemed to be working on one of the control panels in the main control room, so I may excuse her absence with duties she had to attend to. As she saw me, although, she seemed rather…excited (this is obviously mere speculation, as the study of the Terran so far has provided far too little evidence to prove such theories)?

As she rolled out from under the control board and sighted me, her face once again split into a wide opening revealing her horrifying amount of teeth.

"Hey! Dude!", she said, raising to her full height and stepping towards me, still baring her teeth, although I did not recoil, as I did not want to seem impolite. She raised her arms, each pointing into a different direction, away from their connection to the human's body.

"Human Quinn. How are you?"

"Me? I‘m fine, the whole 'wandering around in space' thing just made me throw up, I honestly don‘t know why they insisted on keeping me there for two whole days."

The ends of her fingers, studded with claw-like (rather short and rounded instead of sharp, perhaps they were not meant to function as claws at all, or perhaps the beings on Terra were far different from what I knew, and therefore a shape like this was far more useful to hunt) protuberances, scraped over the back of the connection between her head and her upper body. If I interpreted her facial expression correctly, she seemed to be thinking.

"Maybe I got a light concussion too, I’m not entirely sure. But it's improbable, because I’m fine now."

I decided to focus on one piece of information at a time. "Well, this "throwing up" can certainly not be a healthy nor normal process, otherwise, it would not seem so violently painful and involuntary, would it?"

"Well it‘s not…unnatural, it‘s just something that can happen. And about health, it‘s not unhealthy, it usually helps us to get rid of stuff that is bad for our bodies!", she eludicated, moving one of her arms in a rather random manner.

"The scientists have concluded that this fluid is highly acidic. If this 'stuff' is so harmful to you, wouldn‘t it just dissolve in this fluid before being able to cause any further harm?"

Quinn seemed to think about that. 

"Well, just because it gets dissolved, doesn‘t mean it‘s gone, you know? It's still in our bodies, and we have to get rid of it somehow. And if it needs to be fast, we throw up. Honestly, I‘d definitely explain this further to you, but Biology‘s never really been my strongest subject, ya know what I mean?"

I did not, in fact, know what she meant, but I decided against questioning her further.

After a pause the Terran spoke up again: "So, this planet we're landing on..." "Fendaar.", I clarified. "Right. So, this planet that we‘re going to, it‘s a desert, right?" "That is correct." "So, is it a sand, an ice or, I guess you could also count rock desert? 'Cuz on my planet, we‘ve got all of those types."

"Fendaar‘s ecosystem is mostly made up out of sandlike landscapes with rather scarce vegetation and biodiversity. Most of the planets in system 36-54 have rather extreme temperature ranges, and Fendaar is no exception.", I eludicated.

"Alright, cool.", she spoke, rolling back under the underside of the control panel she had been working on previously. She seemed to be sitting, or rather lying, on a piece of metal with four small wheels attached to it, allowing her to move it around.

"Your planet.", I initiated. 

"Yeah?", she responded, while continuing her work on the wiring.

"Am I assuming correctly that your planet has a far bigger biodiversity?"

"Oh, yeah.", there was a small spring in her voice, as if she had let out air in the middle of speaking. "Big biodiversity. We‘ve got deserts and rainforests, coral reefs and permafrost - although perhaps not for that long anymore - mountain ranges and all that stuff."

"Interesting.", I supplied, for lack of a better response. If Terra had such differences in temperature and landscapes, it was a logical conclusion that the humans had evolved to survive under such circumstances.

"Yeah."

It was unusually quiet for some time. That was, until Quinn rolled out from the underside of the control panels.

"Alright, I‘m done." She took a deep breath before opening her mouth once again. Then, all of a sudden, the muscles of her face started contracting as if she was plagued by an invisible pain. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out horrifying noise, holding an arm angled in front of her nose and mouth. The noise itself was not particularly loud or long, but I recoiled either way, as a measure of safety. I could not be certain if this gesture was meant to harm me, after all.

Quinn‘s arm sank down again as her other hand rubbed at her nose. She huffed, a sound far less threatening than the one she had produced a moment ago. One of the hair patches above her visual organs raised itself, prompting the question to arise if human hair was controlled by muscles or if it had a mind of its own, although this was a question that could be further investigated later. One of the corners of her mouth raised, revealing the seemingly sharpest teeth in her mouth.

"I guess dust is an inter-galactic thing, huh?"

I did not respond. Her face muscles contracted, causing the skin above her visual organs to crease.

"Hey, you okay? You‘re looking a little spooked over there."

"Human, I do not wish to cause you discomfort, but, if I may ask, what was the purpose of the noise you just uttered?"

She did not respond for a moment, blinking with both of her eyes as she stared at me. It was quite unsettling, considering her previous explanation, that most humans preferred not being stared at. 

"I…sneezed?" The creases in the skin above her eyes deepened.

My front pliers uttered another rattling sound. "What is this 'sneezing'? What purpose does it serve?" I admit, I was quite curious. Terrans seemed much more complex than I had previously assumed.

She paused, seemingly to think of an answer. "Well, it‘s like…if something is bothering us at or in out nose, like dust, for example, it‘s kind of the natural response to that. To keep things out of our bodies that don‘t belong there."

"Human bodies seem to require a lot of defense mechanisms.", I commented.

She raised and lowered the connection of her arms to her upper body, baring her teeth once again while raising herself to her full height, using one of her arms as support.

"Y’know, it’s surprisingly hard to explain something you’re so used to to someone who’s never heard of it. I guess I still have to work on the whole 'awareness that I‘m around aliens' thing. S‘ kind of surreal."

She patted off her clothing, as if to remove non-existent filth once again. I had noticed the past few cycles that most of her clothing seemed to consist of several, usually differently-coloured, pieces of fabric. 

Her clothes usually covered her body from the connection between her arms and torso to the connection between her legs and, presumably, her feet. Her feet were usually also covered, although I could not determine the purpose it was supposed to serve in the environment we are currently in, although the theory that the conditions on Earth are vastly different compared to the ones on the SIIR Noxos is gaining more probability, based on the Terran's narrations.

The human seemed to evaluate a question she wanted to ask (this is, of course, a mere speculation based on previous observations: her face muscles were contracted to form a crease over her visual organs, which could so far most likely be interpreted as confusion, thoughtfulness or discomfort; her head was both slightly raised and tilted to one side at the same time, a gesture that was most likely supposed to convey an ongoing thought process).

Although, before she could utter a noise, V-7 informed us of a request from the Vitrichl to gather for a matter of importance.

The purpose of his summoning was to divide the crew into several smaller groups that were to be assigned with different tasks to fulfill once we sucessfully landed on Fendaar.

I was grouped with the Terran, which was unsurprising, as well as Tkzt, a member of the species that is widely known across the galaxies as Ctzas (it is to note that the Ctzas have not evolved any form of written language and communicate exclusively through clicking and chittering sounds. The written forms of, for example, names of this species, are written by other species to produce approximately the same sound as the Ctzas make when recited verbally).

Tkzt, as a member of the unit controlling supply chains and keeping a list of the stock of the SIIR Noxos, would make a helpful addition in our task of seeking out the nearest settlement in order to stock up on supplies.

After all matters of importance were settled, the crew dissipated, continuing their respective tasks. The Terran was ordered to stay and to assist the Vitrichl in another matter, which is the reason I did not cross paths with the human again for the rest of this cycle.

Despite this, I am positive that accompanying the human on an foreign planet will give me a further insight into the species' mannerisms and interaction manners with foreign species, which will prove to be helpful further on in studying the human.

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part X

Atsumu x fem Reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2,5 k

About: Dinner at Onigiri Miya &lt;3

Part I II -> Next Part

"So, that's my favorite food. Samu just makes the best Onigiri, I'm not gonna lie about that."

Atsumu grins and gestures towards the plates on the table. "But everything's good, don't worry. I helped Samu with the menu back then after we finished high school. He even added some dishes with extra protein, just for me. Said he couldn't stand how I ate chicken and protein powder all the time."

You frown at the thought of combining chicken and protein shakes, but he just shrugs when he notices your reaction. "Don't look at me like that; I was young then. Well, younger than today. I didn't know better." You laugh when he embarrassedly rubs the back of his neck.

"It's fine! I'm sure you had to watch your protein intake and your vitamin levels. I mean, you started playing a lot more intensely after school, right?"

He nods and takes the carafe of water to fill your empty glass. "A lot has changed since I started as a professional. My schedule's quite tight; I train basically every day, and I have to go abroad every other month for promotions or plays. It's kinda hard to always keep track of my eating habits. I'm just glad that Samu's keepin' an eye on me. Always grumblin' about how it's a drag to do all that extra stuff, but he still has a plate ready whenever I come." You nod and take the glass he's offering you and take a sip of the water. It has a fresh taste with all the herbs that have been added to it; you can even smell a bit of mint and lemon after you place the glass back on the wooden table.

"He sounds like a really good brother. Who's older, him or you?" You ask and look at the raven-haired copy of the man in front of you, who is now behind the counter making Onigiri. He looks good in the Onigiri Miya shirt, the logo cute and simple, fitting the whole ambiance of the restaurant. There isn't much space inside; you're just glad that Atsumu took care of reserving the table because there are quite a lot of customers inside. Yet, it has such a cozy and homey feeling that you relaxed instantly when you took a seat.

"What do you think? Be honest." He looks at you expectantly, and you debate your choices on the inside. On the one hand, Osamu seems like someone who is used to taking care of others, which makes him seem like the older one. On the other hand, you can't deny that Atsumu has a certain sense of dominance that seems like a spoiled firstborn—but you're still clueless.

"Hmm. I think that you're the older twin?" His eyes widen in surprise, and a wide grin suddenly spreads on his whole face. His eyes shine when he bursts out in laughter. "Samu! Samu, y/n thinks that I'm the older twin. Did ya hear that?" He calls for his brother, and Osamu raises his head with a scowl when he realizes that Atsumu just disturbed his peace. "Don't get cocky. She's the first to say that."

"Yeah, but her opinion actually matters. Thank you, y/n." He is still beaming when he turns back to you, the short innuendo with his brother seeming so normal to both of them that you try not to think too hard about it. "You're welcome, I guess?" You nervously laugh, hoping that you made neither Atsumu nor Osamu mad with your words. "You did well. You're my wife after all. So it's only fair that you're on my side." You almost choke on your water when he says that and nervously laugh.

"Oh, okay. Well then. Uhm, I'll start eating? I'm kind of hungry, and the food looks amazing." You still find your heart skipping a beat whenever he calls you 'his wife'—which you noticed that he does quite frequently. He definitely likes to tease you, and you have no idea how you should respond to that. Just the thought of calling him 'husband' makes you feel butterflies in your stomach—you couldn't possibly do that.

You have already snapped a picture of the food to Yachi, who insisted on regular updates of your day. She responded with a salivating emoji and an 'enjoy!' to which you sent a thumbs up, so you're more than ready to eat. "Oh, of course. Just take what ya want. Samu can make us another portion if yer finished with it."

"Thank you." You smile and take a spoon to try the fried rice. The flavor is rich and good; you can't help but let out a delighted huff through your nose while you take another spoonful. "It's really good. Osamu is great at cooking!"

Atsumu has also started eating, an onigiri in both of his hands that now looks ridiculously small. You only now notice how big his hands actually are—probably an advantage when he's playing volleyball. "Told ya. Samu makes the best food." He takes another bite and then a sip of his water. "Let's eat and then we'll talk about the appointment."

You nod and swallow your bite heavily—and you also try to swallow the nervousness while you finish your meal. The atmosphere suddenly had shifted a little after he had mentioned the appointment, the reasoning of your meet-up now apparent. You're both rather quick to finish your food, and you place your napkin on your table and look at him expectantly when you're done.

"So, do you want a dessert already, or do you need a break? Samu has a mean strawberry tiramisu in the fridge. It's not on the menu, but I know it's there." He looks at you and winks, and you laugh while you rub your tummy and lean back in your seat. "I need a short break. But after that maybe? Tiramisu sounds great." You give him a thumbs up, and he nods in response.

"So... let's talk about the visit then. About our options. Wait. Singular. We have one option." He looks at you with a neutral expression, and you find yourself nodding almost robotically. "Yes. We have to wait until the year is over until we can get a divorce."

You both sit there in silence, unsure of how you should continue the conversation.

"I mean, it could have been worse. We're lucky that there were no other grave conditions on the contract. One year will pass really quickly. And then you're free again. I'm also not forcing you to make this public; it wouldn't be good for neither your volleyball career nor my privacy. We could just keep going like this."

He intently watches you while you talk, his chin now resting on one of his palms when he slightly leans forward. "I also think it's smarter to keep it to ourselves for a while. The last name thing, though, is going to be difficult." A groan leaves your lips, and you close your eyes for a second.

"I can't believe that I have to change my last name. This is going to be a lot of paperwork." You groan again at the thought of going to the town hall and contacting your bank—and everything else. You thankfully already had the past few days to get used to the thought of changing your name to 'Miya', but it still makes the whole marriage thing feel so real. This would have a very big impact on your life at this point. All formal letters will be addressed to y/n Miya—which would definitely cause questions that you're not prepared for. But that is a problem for your future self, something you're trying to reassure yourself of to not feel overwhelmed. It will be fine. The lawyers had reassured you that it would only need a few signatures and a small fee, and then you could get divorced after the year is over—and that definitely made you feel a bit better.

"Yeah, sorry for that." He sheepishly rubs the back of his head, probably feeling guilty that only you have to do that, and you're quick to shake your head. "Don't be. I voluntarily agreed to this; this part is definitely not your fault."

He nods and takes the last bite of his rice ball and quickly wipes his hands with his tissue. Noticing that you have finished your meal too, he is quick to wave for the waitress. "I'll ask for the tiramisu. Are you fine with sharing? He said he'll only leave one portion. Greedy bastard," he groans playfully, and you giggle at his comment.

"Yes, we can share."

xxx

The car ride home feels tense.

The evening was great; you had a good time with Atsumu, and the prospect of having to part soon makes you feel uneasy, especially at the prospect of not knowing if you will ever see him again. For all you know, he could simply send you the paperwork via post and never talk to you again.

You get thrown out of your thoughts when he parks the car in front of your house, and you both sit there for a second in silence.

"Uhm... here we are." He finally says, turning off the engine, much to your surprise. That means he intends to stay a bit longer.

"Yes." You awkwardly scratch the back of your head and look at him through the darkness. Only a street lantern provides a bit of light, just enough for you to faintly see his face. He also seems to feel somewhat nervous, his eyes avoiding yours at all costs and looking at the dark screen of the radio.

"So, uhm. I meant to ask. How do you want things to go in the future? We can either keep in touch or meet exactly one year from now to finalize the divorce. What would you prefer?" You can see how his knee bounces up and down, a clear indicator of his nervousness. The words seem somewhat practiced, and you're pretty much convinced that he's been thinking about this moment during the whole car ride. You feel a lump in your throat and somewhat have a hard time coming up with an answer. What if he wants to cut ties with you but is too polite to say it out loud? You definitely don't want to put him in an uncomfortable situation by forcing him to keep in touch with you. It's bad enough already that you have to take his last name, which would probably lead to some questions. What were you supposed to say now?

"I... I don't know. What would you prefer?" You know that it's lame to answer with a question, but you only intend to offer him a way out. Much to your surprise, his eyes flicker to your face, and his knee stops bouncing.

"I would prefer for you to be happy, whatever you decide to go with." He seems so earnest and serious when he says that, that you find yourself flushing—thankful for the darkness to conceal your facial expression. Hopefully.

"Keep in touch, like eating at Onigiri Miya, for example? And texting and calling?"

"Hmm." He hums and suddenly watches you like a hawk, analyzing every single one of your expressions. "We could make that a regular thing. Samu changes the menu often; he could even put your favorite food on it, if ya ask him nicely."

You are stunned at his words. He probably knows fully well that it sounds like a cheap excuse to keep seeing you, yet he still said it.

So you decide to be brave too.

"Sounds great."

xxx

"What the heck was that?"

"What do you mean?" Atsumu rolls his eyes at the car speaker, somewhat annoyed because he knows exactly what Osamu will say.

"I saw you makin' heart eyes at her. And that phone call last week? I didn't say anything back then, but what are you trying to do? Flirting with her and breaking her heart when ya get divorced and you stop talkin' to her? She's too nice for that. Don't do that to her; she's been through enough already."

"I'm not leading her on!" Atsumu almost yells, finding himself wounded at the accusation of not being honest with you. "It's just—I don't know. Easy to talk to her. I just... I dunno. I'm not doing it on purpose; it just comes naturally. Everything comes naturally when it comes to her. Wonder if that's why I married her. Love at first sight, ya know?"

Osamu lets out a heavy and deep sigh, full of frustration. "It's fine. Just take things slow. If you wanna date her, I mean. You both skipped a few steps; I don't know if ya really have a chance."

"I'm not trying to date her. I'm just... I enjoy talking to her and spending time with her. And it's cute to see her flustered. We only got one spoon for the tiramisu, and I offered to feed her—ya should have seen her face, she almost fainted." Atsumu grins at the memory, but Osamu only sighs again.

"You're always causing me trouble. Just—be careful with her, 'kay? We still don't know if she's some kind of stalker trying to get with ya. Remember the last time a fan tried to get close to ya? Didn't end well."

Atsumu's grin slowly fades at the memory, and a deep frown replaces the happy expression.

"I know, I know. But she knows that manager from Karasuno. And Shoyo-kun. She could have met me earlier if she was a stalker. We only decided on the club last week, remember? No way she could have known. She got her hotel room booked a few weeks ago, Shoyo-kun told me that. That's too many coincidences for her to be a stalker."

"If you say so. Dunno, you just always get in trouble."

"Not this time. Not with her."

"Sure. Let me know if ya need somethin'. See ya."

Atsumu hangs up the call, his hands now holding the steering wheel tighter. There is an inner turmoil inside of him, almost the need to see you again, and that's when he forms a plan in his head.

A few minutes later, and he has safely parked the car and fished his phone out of his pocket. His fingers fly over the keyboard, and he doesn't think twice before he hits the "send" button.

Are you free this weekend, Mrs. Miya?

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 18: Hackneyed

thancred attempts to confess his feelings. it does not go as planned. thancred x wol, pre-relationship. asexual wol. set during arr. written for ffxivwrite2024. rated: general 1868 words ao3 link

There is a plan in mind, he’s not ashamed of that.

He has thought about it for weeks. Months, if he’s honest. Pulling and tugging on the threads of what if and when, imagined scenarios chasing themselves around his mind in varying shades of… well. Romantic, he would call it. He has never fully thought of himself as a romantic in earnest before, though some of his past lovers would have called him such. But there is a certain panache to the word, a sense, an atmosphere, that he finds compelling. Especially where Aureia is concerned.

It still surprises him that he is falling for her, his friend. Perhaps the closest friend he has ever allowed himself to have. She has witnessed him at his worst and at his best—the small triumphs, the overwhelming losses, pain and grief and joy. He has made a complete fool of himself in front of her more than once, sometimes in small trivial ways, other times less so. The time he spouted improvised poetry at a dancer in the Quicksand. How hard he tried to impress Yugiri Mistwalker when the shinobi joined their cause.

His butchering of the situation with Ifrit. His possession by an Ascian. Other moments he would rather not say.

He did not want to admit it at first. It would be easier for both of them if he did not feel the way he did. He knows better than anyone that romantic entanglements are best kept at arm’s length, far away from the goings on of the Scions. They are a weak spot. An exploit. A risk. He kept his distance from her after the Praetorium for this very reason, resisting the ache growing in his heart with every passing day by falling back on hold habits. Drinking more in the hopes of ignoring it. Distracting himself with a rather impressive list of paramours.

He has a sneaking suspicion Urianger has taken note and this will come back to bite him in the arse.

It took Moenbryda walloping him over the head—metaphorically, of course—with a disarming comment to make him realize how foolish he was being.

“You know what your problem is, Thancred? You’re too busy looking ten feet ahead for one problem or another to notice the blessing that is right in front of you.”

He never thanked her for that. It’s too late now.

Perhaps that’s why he has come to his decision. Moenbryda’s death sits heavy in their hearts, forcing them all to stare the fleetingness of life in the face. She seized hers with joy and fearlessness, hanging on to nothing. It’s time he did the same.

And so he has to do it right.

Aureia lets out a whoop as she springs up the rest of the stairs, racing him to the top. She reaches the battlements first, face flushed, hair a mess, ruby eyes sparkling, and spins around to face him as he follows suit. “Look at that,” she says, raising her hands in triumph. “I win.”

He chuckles, panting lightly, and sweeps his hair out of his eyes. “Was it a race?” he replies, leaning casually against the battlements. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She rolls her eyes and continues down the path, trailing her fingers across the coarse stonework. Mor Dhona stretches out before them, bright as the stars above. Lanterns float through the square, warming the aetheryte’s cool brilliance with their golden glow, illuminating the flowing crowds below. Further up the hill, the market bustles with activity, late night vendors selling trinkets and baubles, and people stumbling from Rowena’s café with drinks in hand. Adventurers loiter on the steps to the Seventh Heaven, carousing loudly. A group of dancers giggle with glee, moving merrily in rhythm to a drum as a trio of bards fill the plaza with their music.

All in all, it is a good night for festivities. Bright, clear, and only a hint of gloam.

Aureia hums to herself, folding her arms and leaning out over the parapet. She may be quiet in a crowd and shy away from the centre of attention, but she loves being around people. Immersing herself in the rhythms of a city, captivated by the pulse of life and the vibrancy of it all. It’s one of the things he finds endlessly fascinating about her, this paradox of extroversion and introversion.

“I wonder where Gerolt went,” she says after a moment, squinting as she scans the plaza. Her hair trails in the breeze and falls about her face. She pushes it back idly, twisting it around her finger, and knots it at the top of her head. Shorter pieces fall away, brushing across the nape of her neck. “He all but paled and ran for the hills when he saw Rowena earlier.”

“Perhaps he did run for the literal hills. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And here I thought you had no thoughts on the illustrious lady of the House of Splendours.”

He chokes. “No,” he says, a little strangled. “I don’t. Did you have to put it quite like that?”

“What? House of Splendours or illustrious lady?” She glances at him and grins. “If it’s the former, take it up with Rowena, she’s the one who named it.”

He catches her eye, regarding her in silence. His gaze lingers on her face, her hair, the way the silver studs in her upper ear catch the lanternlight. She hasn’t changed much since he met her. There is perhaps a touch of severity around her jaw and creases in the corners of her eyes, but she is still as vibrant as the spells she once cast. It seems so long ago that she stumbled into his life, and yet he has known many others for longer.

Much can happen over the course of two years.

“What?” Aureia says, eyes wide.

He says nothing, smiling quietly. If he could tell her now that she is beautiful, he would. He can’t remember when he first had that thought. Perhaps he’s always thought it.

Music wafts over them, slow and gentle.

Thancred pushes off the wall and gives her a mock little bow, extending his hand. “Would you have this dance, milady?” he says.

She pauses, a little laugh humming on her lips. “What are you doing?”

“Inviting you to dance.”

“Interesting.” She takes a step towards him, her chin raised archly. “You know I don’t dance.”

He straightens and steps into her. “I think you will tonight.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you asked me to dance?”

“I’ve never asked you to.” His hand brushes his arm. She doesn’t move away. “I seem to remember that the dance I supposedly asked you to join me in was a sparring match where you routing me so thoroughly I don’t think my ego has recovered.”

She gazes at him, her eyes alight with joy. “Your poor ego.”

“Terribly bruised, you see.”

“If that’s so, why risk it again? I’ll only thrash you a second time.”

He chuckles and leans in, his lips a hair’s breath from her ear. “Because I am not asking you to spar, Aureia darling,” he says. The word slips out unexpectedly. He has never called her darling before. Too soon? Too late? He doesn’t care. Even a small deviation cannot ruin this night. “Dance with me.”

She hesitates, frozen for the briefest of moments. In the space between breaths, he wonders if she will pull away—it’s a delicate thing, this line they walk, and she has as much to lose as he does. But sometimes the risk is worth it. He can only hope she can see it, too.

Aureia slips her hand into his. “Fine,” she says at last. “One dance.”

“Only one?”

“Just one.”

He sweeps her into his arms and they dance.

The music washes over them and they move as one, fumbling their steps and knocking against each other. At last they find a compromise, gently swaying together as they turn on the spot, his hand on her waist, her head against his shoulder. Together they watch the plaza below, sparkling with light and life.

How is it that the simplest things are always the most difficult to say?

“Aur?” he murmurs.

She raises her head. “Yes?”

Her hair has untwisted from its knot, now falling loosely about her shoulders. Twelve above, she is gorgeous. If he is about to admit what he wants to—what he needs to—then there is no better time to do so than now.

Thancred presses a hand to her cheek and leans in close.

She inhales sharply and turns her head.

He pauses. “I…”

Aureia lets go of his hands and pulls away, staring determinedly at the plaza below, her jaw clenched. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Thancred, but I think you have a very, very wrong idea about me,” she says.

He frowns, too taken aback to feel the hurt he knows will come later. “I—Aureia. Are you… upset?”

“Hells, yes!” She rounds on him, red eyes blazing. “I am mad at you. I am so very, very mad at you—”

“I thought—”

“You thought what? You’ve barely spoken to me since Moenbryda’s death. I thought this was going to be a time for us to talk, not…” She makes a face. “You are trying to seduce me, aren’t you.”

He sighs, passing a hand across his face. “Assuredly not, no.”

“Then what is this? Bringing me up here on a pretty night, asking me to dance, staging this scene like some hackneyed plot you pulled out of a bard’s—ugh.” She rolls her eyes and storms across the battlements. “I’m not interested in all this. I thought you would have at least caught on to that by now.”

He follows her, keeping a careful distance as they tromp down the stairs. “On to what? My apologies, but I do not follow—”

“You’re going to make me come out and say it, aren’t you?” She hits the bottom landing and turns around, arms folded protectively across her chest. “I don’t… want that. Any of that. I never have. I never will.”

“Any of what?” To his surprise, the sting of rejection has not come yet. Perhaps because he doesn’t quite understand what she is rejecting him from. “Aureia, if I have done something so terribly offensive to you, please tell me. I will listen.”

“You’re not the first to have told me that, and yet I’ve yet to meet someone who understands.” She gives him a flat look, her mouth twisting as if she is trying to hold back tears. He has never seen her quite so furious yet vulnerable. “Tell me honestly, would you be happy being with me if I said I never wanted to sleep with you?”

He blinks. Of all the questions she could have asked, this is one he has never thought of.

She spreads her hands and drops them to her sides, as if his silence has proved a point he didn’t know he was making. “And there’s your answer,” she says and vanishes into the night.

[gnappart]

Mmmmmh shiny thingies

< Part 17

I’m baaaaack (again) with the babies! I have so little energy to draw nowadays but I’m slowly going on, thankfully since the start I planned a whole good chunk of the story (for once). Who would have known? Having already an idea of what to draw helps the artist!

Also, thanks for the support, it’s truly incredible that people keep finding (and liking?! Wow) this little thing of mine, just tumblr can be such a magical place. I’m glad if I’m gifting you a smile, even if just for a couple of seconds ^^

[justanotherignot]

Aylin and Isobel, the Full Story

Unfortunately, this is not 3 hours worth of Aylin/Isobel cutscenes. I made this video for a friend who doesn't play the game but wants to know their story, so I tried to include all characters and cutscenes that are relevant to them.

[latin-dr-robotnik]

I said this months ago, but by the end of this year Frontiers is gonna be a completely different game from the one that released back in November 2022, and now that we know when DLC 3 is going to come out, it might be the best time to play it again from start to finish.

Each update addressed something about the base game that wasn't up to par: side modes and replayability, challenges, gameplay and controls... and now the final update is tackling what is still one of the biggest weakness of the game: the final chapter.

I'd say I'm surprised but dataminers found out back in June all the stuff that got confirmed today: reworked Ouranos, revised story with playable Tails, Knuckles and Amy, new final boss, new transformation and more.

So... get ready :)

[mothdapple]

“Who trained you?” Silverhawk hissed as he once again found himself pinned. Emberdawn’s dainty paws dug into different points on his body as painful as a slash, even though her claws were sheathed. “A rabid fox?”

“Your mother, actually. Although she could be mistaken for a rabid fox depending on her mood,” Emberdawn quipped.

Emberdawn stepped off of him. Silverhawk grunted as he hauled himself back to his paws.

“Duskclaw doesn’t fight like that,” he said, shaking out his pelt.

“Of course not. Duskclaw is twice my size,” Emberdawn retorted, her tail twitching. “She can just throw her weight around like you can. I don’t have that sort of strength behind my hits. We had to get creative, especially when I’m fighting without claws.”

Silverhawk rolled his shoulders, massaging away the aches.

Emberdawn and his mother had certainly come up with something, and Emberdawn had clearly honed her skills in the moons since they last sparred as apprentices. She now seemed to know the exact right places to strike with paws or nip with her fangs to immobilize with pain when her own body weight wasn’t sufficient.

“It’s vile,” Silverhawk grumbled.

Emberdawn rolled her eyes. “No, it’s smart. Do you think RiverClan would ever dream of going easy on me because of my size?” Her claws flexed against the icy moss. “We all just have to fight for what’s ours in the best way we know how.”

Emberdawn gazed at him expectantly, but Silverhawk didn’t respond.

Emberdawn licked her paw and smugly dragged it across her whiskers. “Oh stop pouting. I know you’re just mad that I beat you again.”

Silverhawk’s shoulder fur fluffed up defensively. “I am not—!”

-Chapter 4, Silverhawk’s Legacy

[thelonelyshore-if]

I'm like. 99% done with most of the update's scenes. Literally the one thing that trips me up every time is scene transitions. I think they might be my least favorite thing in the world to write. Scene transitions my beloathed.