#i didn't even try to put this under a readmore

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (27/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4k

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11-20 | ch. 21 - i wouldn't marry me either | ch. 22 - burn all the files, desert all your past lives | ch. 23 - i've still got love for you | ch. 24 - and the girl in your bed has a fine pedigree | ch. 25 - kept calm and carried the weight of the rift | ch. 26 - where the spirit meets the bones | ch. 27 - invisible string

The one with the desk smut, with a side of Cassian losing his shit over Nesta and some sisterly bonding <3

Read on AO3 or you can find the twenty-seventh chapter below the readmore.

I wanted to paint Rhys in shirtsleeves. He was sitting at the desk in his study, jacket gone, and a shaft of sunlight brought out the otherworldly blue sheen in his hair. Too engrossed in making notes on the map spread open before him, he didn't notice that I'd woken up.

Exhaustion had hit me shortly after lunch. As promised, I hadn't forced myself to sit through more meetings and instead had fallen asleep on the sofa. Judging by the position of the sun in the sky, I hadn't been out for more than an hour or two.

Not bothering to sit up, I just took the opportunity to take in my mate's profile. It would take more than a few practice sketches to properly capture the curve of his regal nose, the sweep of his jawline, the sensuous perfection of his lips. Even if I spent a century on it, I wasn't sure I'd ever manage to capture him properly.

But I wanted to try.

After a few minutes of staring, I realized I was clutching the jacket he'd shed. I'd pulled a blanket over myself as I'd drifted off, so he must have given it to me. In my sleep, I'd brought it up to my nose. I couldn't scent him like a faerie, but a deep inhale filled my lungs with the pleasant, familiar smell of the pine-scented soap we both used.

I sat up and stretched. The movement lifted my shirt slightly, and suddenly Rhys's attention snapped from the map on his desk to the inch of bare skin around my navel.

"How did you sleep?" he said, gaze traveling slowly up, up my chest, lingering there before finally landing on my face. For a moment, the air in the study seemed to grow hotter.

"Fine," I said getting to my feet. I held the jacket out towards him. "Do you want this back?"

He shot me an irritated look. "It's wrinkled."

I rolled my eyes—if Rhys could mist entire armies without blinking, his magic could certainly handle smoothing out a few creases. He waved a hand, and the jacket disappeared, probably into a hamper somewhere.

I crossed the room to get a better look at the notes on his desk. "What are you up to?"

The moment I stepped within reach, Rhys's arm snaked around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. A startled laugh escaped me, my shoulder bumping his as I tried to regain my balance. He pressed a kiss to my temple.

For a moment, I thought he might ignore my question. But even as he pulled me closer, he said, "Contingency planning. If the worst comes to pass, the villages on the Night Court's western shore will be the hardest hit."

I pestered him about it, curious about the handful of small fishing towns near the mouth of the Sidra—the vast majority of his people lived in the Hewn City, Velaris, or Illyria. But the stubborn faeries the Night Court's small towns were no less deserving of protection, and with Cassian busy in Illyria, the task of preparing them for a possible war fell to Rhys.

If the questions bothered him, Rhys didn't let on. By now, he knew I needed to ask. I trusted him more than anyone, but after finding out I'd been living in a manor full of servants invisible to only me…I worried. Maybe I always would.

He answered everything thoroughly, and when there was nothing left to say on the subject, I asked, "What's left for today, then?"

"Was what I showed you this morning really so unmemorable?"

"It wasn't. But do we have the time?"

"We made enough progress for today," he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear, "and if we run ourselves ragged this early, we'll forfeit a war before it even begins."

Rhys wasn't wrong. After all, I'd spent the entire morning listening to him calmly craft a plan to shore up the Night Court's emergency stockpiles, expertly conveying the gravity of the situation without causing any of the officials and representatives of his court to panic. And he'd just appealed to my sense of practicality, which even I knew was the best way to get through to me.

But we were sitting in summer sunshine. The days were growing shorter, and instincts honed from years of hunting were screaming at me not to waste a minute preparing for the lean times ahead.

A tendril of darkness traced a soothing line down my back. My old fear of long, cold nights faded, just a bit.

I leaned down and kissed him fiercely, intent on chasing pleasure until my mind went blank. Rhys answered with a bite to my lower lip, then gently nudged me off his lap. As my feet hit the floor, I started to ask why he'd pulled away.

But before I could, a warm, broad hand settled between my shoulder blades. I let him press me forward until my chest rested against the desk, the smooth, polished wood cool against my bare arms.

Gently, Rhys gathered up my hair and swept it over my shoulder to keep it out of the way. I waited to feel his hands on me again, but he merely paused, giving me an opportunity to ask him to stop. Careful—he was always so careful with me.

I bit back an irritated reminder that I wasn't made of glass. After everything he'd survived, it would break him to hurt me like that, even accidentally. I twisted my head to the side to look back at him. "Go ahead. I trust you."

The words seemed to unleash something inside him. A flicker of magic danced along my bare skin as my clothes disappeared, and both his hands settled on my rear, kneading it. I drove my hips back in search of more contact.

His lips found the nape of my neck instead. A shiver ran through me as Rhys slowly kissed his way down my spine, the calluses on his fingers scraping closer to my core.

With his mouth occupied, his voice floated into my mind. *I've wanted to do this since I first saw your ass in leathers.

I reached a hand back, needing more of him. His fingers had nearly spread me open, but I'd barely touched him at all. He let out a low chuckle as my fingers scrabbled uselessly towards the fastenings of his pants, the tops of his thighs, any inch of him I could manage to reach.

If you want something, ask nicely. Otherwise, just let me take care of you.

"Ple—"

The door slammed open, the sound cutting through the air like a thunderbolt.

I yelped in surprise, straightening up. Rhys's power surrounded me in an instant, the darkness covering my nakedness like a cloak. A vicious snarl ripped from his throat, a savage, bestial threat.

He'd moved closer, putting his body and wingspan between me and whoever the intruder was. I shuffled to the side and peered around him to see what was going on.

Cassian had barged in, hair windswept, and there was a peculiar wild look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. Without bothering with a greeting or even acknowledging Rhys, he looked at me and said, "Who hurt Nesta?"

"Did something happen?" I said, stomach already lurching. I was dimly aware of another tang of magic and my clothes reappearing on my body. The tendrils of night continued hovering around me protectively.

"Not recently, as far as I can tell."

I stepped out from behind Rhys. "Then what the hell are you talking about?"

Cassian took in a deep breath, slowly—carefully—letting it out. I'd never seen him like this, struggling to keep calm. He gripped the back of a nearby chair so tightly that the wood groaned.

I couldn't imagine what it took to rattle the most powerful Illyrian warrior in history.

After a moment, he said, "It's not faeries she's worried about. She wouldn't be the first woman to be skittish around our kind, and that's even without her seeing through glamours and your kidnapping. But the questions she asked, the way she flinched…someone put their hands on her. I'm sure of it."

Tomas Mandray, if I had to guess. Apparently, Nesta had listened to my warning, but we hadn't discussed the details. She probably would have snapped at me for prying if I'd asked, even out of sisterly concern.

And if she'd have my head for that, I couldn't imagine how badly she must have reacted when a strange faerie male had asked her about it. Even if it was his job to know and keep her safe.

No wonder Cassian seemed so agitated.

Rhys still hadn't spoken. At some point, his fingers had turned to talons, but he'd barely moved, just watched us intently. He was still refusing to interfere in anything involving my sisters, I realized. This matter remained mine to handle.

"I have my suspicions," I said slowly, not quite sure if naming Tomas was wise when Cassian seemed fully prepared to rip off his head and present it on a platter to Nesta, "but nothing concrete."

"Who?" Cassian's fingers twitched towards the dagger at his hip.

"If Nesta wants him dead, it needs to happen quietly. That makes it a job for Azriel, not you."

I felt a flicker of Rhys's approval through the bond, plus something warm that might have been pride. A muscle jumped in Cassian's jaw, but he nodded his assent. I loosed a breath.

"She's sharp-tongued, but your sister didn't ask for anything unreasonable. And she didn't kick me out of the house, so I think it went alright," Cassian said.

I motioned for him to sit, then debriefed him properly, asking for details. Despite all his bawdy humor and easy laughter, Cassian was still a soldier, and his polite yes ma'am and no ma'am had gone a long way with Nesta. So had adding himself to the rotation of sentries guarding the manor; he'd be nearby on a regular schedule, not merely giving orders from Prythian.

He regretted not being able to send female sentries, especially when the servants left and it was only Nesta and Elain in the manor at night. But during Amarantha's reign, the camp-lords had stopped training the girls, and they'd clipped the wings of the few existing female warriors. Safely extricating them from marriages they'd been forced into during the last fifty years was an ongoing, delicate operation that required coordination between Cassian, Rhys, and Clotho.

It would be a long time before Illyria would see any females with the training and experience required to guard the High Lord's family.

I needed to write Nesta another letter to ask for her side of the story. And to beg, perhaps, for advice on how to play courtier when I visited Day. But still, by the time Cassian left with a wink and a reminder to air out the study, some of my worries had eased.

My gaze slid to Rhys, who'd remained silent the entire time. "I know you have opinions about all of this," I said, ready to hear them.

"I anticipate we'll need Nesta's assistance getting the Book from the queens. It's in our best interest not to antagonize her," he said, crossing an ankle over his knee.

He wasn't wrong. I'd had the same thought, though I'd hoped that I could put off broaching the subject until after we'd secured the other half from Summer. If only to keep Elain safe, Nesta would agree eventually, though I dreaded the fight that would break out over it. We'd only just started getting along.

But something in Rhys's tone gave me pause. I cocked my head, studying him. "Is not antagonizing Nesta a problem for you?"

"That's not the issue." A non-answer, accompanied by a twitch of his wings.

"Then what?"

"Can I ask you to keep this between the two of us for now?" he said with a sigh. I nodded, then waited for him to continue. "Cassian would lay his life down for Nesta merely because she's a member of my family. And if someone did indeed hurt her, he would be right to be outraged by it. That said, I've known my brother a long time, and while he's certainly a hotheaded idiot, something getting under his skin to that degree is…unusual."

I could practically feel him holding something back. "Rhysand…"

"If I suspected someone had assaulted you, my reaction would have been similar."

I nearly scoffed and said it was impossible. But perhaps the bond in my chest was proof otherwise, and now that I thought about it, there had been something familiar in the wild look in Cassian's eyes. I'd seen it on Rhys—and I had probably looked the same way at the mention of Amarantha or Ianthe.

We were treading on dangerous ground.

"You— You truly think they might be mates?" I breathed.

"I don't think we can discount the possibility. My dreams of you predated your immortality, and Nesta is the only human I've known with a natural ability to see through glamours. There may be forces at play we're just beginning to understand."

I could see the logic in it. And in truth, it didn't seem to change much when we were already well aware of the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Perhaps this just meant Nesta was destined to neatly sidestep heartbreak in the same manner I had with Rhys. Tomas had never deserved her. But Cassian….Cassian would indeed be worthy of someone brave and loyal enough to trek through the winter woods to rescue me.

But I was getting ahead of myself. "Nothing to be done until a bond snaps, I suppose," I said, standing.

"I'll continue to defer to you where your family is concerned, of course. But I suggest that you avoid playing matchmaker."

His lips twisted into that particular smirk that told me he knew he'd correctly guessed my thoughts without even using his daemati abilities. More annoyingly, he was also right that we should let them sort it out. I said nothing, just kissed him to wipe the look off his face.

Rhys kept his promise from the morning, and I was bent over the desk again before long.

I spent the flight back to the townhouse feeling happily boneless and sated. As we ate dinner, I drafted a letter to Nesta. The response came a few hours later, appearing on my pillow just as I pulled on a nightgown.

Dear Feyre,

General Cassian lacks delicate manners and asks too many questions, but he appears competent, which is more important. The sentries are far more tolerable when I'm not convinced I'm going mad. As long as they don't come sniffing around Elain, they can stay. I wouldn't have chosen any of this, but considering the position you now occupy, I understand the necessity.

Elain is well. The social season is in full swing, and without Father here, my hands are full chasing away her many unscrupulous fortune-hunting suitors. It is, however, good to see her thriving at balls and parties again.

All my best to you and the new Mr. Archeron.

Nesta

I re-read it several times, marveling at her calling me "dear," even if it was courtesy rather than real affection. But there wasn't an insult or a harsh word to be found. Beyond that, she'd mentioned Rhys again, and it was strange to think of him as….well, an in-law someone might be on polite terms with.

I wasn't built for this sort of domesticity. Would we be sending Solstice cards next?

The next morning, I took the additional rest day that Rhys had urged me to. Instead of spending my morning in the training ring, I brought the letter to an isolated corner of the library and struggled my way through a response alone.

Dear Nesta,

I'm glad that Elain is well. I hope you mean that she is truly enjoying the time with friends this season. Your mention of suitors worries me. There is no reason for either of you to feel pressured to make a desirable match for status or money. If you marry at all, it should be for love. You and Elain deserve nothing less than the happiness I've found here in the Night Court.

And of course, if there are any issues with Cassian or the sentries, tell me. I'll make sure they're addressed.

I also wanted to let you know that I have an upcoming trip to the Day Court, so there will be a few days I won't be able to receive letters. I'll be going with Mor and Amren as Rhys's emissary. We need to visit some of their libraries and hopefully put some of the more nasty rumors about me to rest. No one in Prythian seems to know what to make of me, a human who now lives among the fae.

I'm…nervous. This is the sort of thing you were always good at, not me. I'm not supposed to be a lady who wears gowns and spends entire days surrounded by books, and I'm positive by the end of the visit I'll embarrass myself or worse. I know you'll probably say I'm hopeless, but if you have any advice at all, I could use it.

Yours, Feyre

I'd never written anything so long before. For a while, I just sat and stared at the paper before me, shocked I'd managed it. My handwriting was still embarrassingly childish, especially next to Nesta's elegant script, but it was legible enough.

It felt odd to commit my thoughts and feelings to paper—everything was there, in black and white, making me far more vulnerable than baring my soul in a painting ever did. I didn't want to think about that too deeply. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sealed the letter and sent it.

I couldn't stay in the too-quiet library and think about my shortcomings. What I wanted was the training ring—or failing that, a target I could shoot arrows into until my fingers bled around the bowstring. But I'd made a promise, so instead I spent the afternoon stalking around the perimeter of the Rainbow like a ghost.

Another day passed before I heard from Nesta, and she'd dutifully compiled a list of useful phrases to keep in mind—"How embarrassing for you", "What an odd thing to say", "A little small, I suppose, but it's very nice", among others. There had been some general advice as well, reminders to listen more than I talked and to cross my legs when I sat in a skirt.

At the end, in large letters, she'd added, Good luck.

When the day finally came to leave, I didn't feel much better. The last time I'd worn a white dress of my own volition, Nesta called me an idiot for getting grass stains on the hem. Hissing insults the whole time, she'd forced me inside to change before I embarrassed our mother at a dinner party she was throwing that night. I must have been seven or eight.

Now, I still didn't quite trust myself not to tear or stain the gown Cerridwen helped me into. Like silk, the fabric was cool and smooth against my skin, and despite being lightweight, it was also perfectly opaque and sturdy. Lines of embroidered night-blooming flowers circled the waist and hem, the stitching impossibly intricate. I'd never seen anything like it below the Wall.

Thin straps criss-crossed the open back—if I had them, the design would accomidate Illyrian wings. Instead, it merely showed off the powerful upper back muscles I'd gained from years of shooting a bow.

I hadn't asked where the dress came from, though I assumed Rhys had chosen it himself. Considering the amount of time he spent picking lint off his own clothes, I doubted he'd delegate the task of buying mine to someone else. Not that I minded—he had excellent taste.

Beyond that, I was relieved I hadn't needed to pick anything out myself for the trip to the Day Court. As an emissary, every aspect of my appearance sent a message. I assumed this gown suited the occasion.

But still, my stomach did a nervous little flip as Cerridwen set a diadem atop my head after pinning my hair up into an elegant braided bun. Even Mor didn't wear a crown.

I looked pretty, if slightly wrong. It wasn't just the crown—the cut of the dress was Day Court style. Probably better suited for bright sun and heat, but I wouldn't have chosen it for myself.

Rhys had left his dressing gown on my chair again. I fingered the midnight-blue cloth and met Cerridwen's eyes in the mirror. "Could you please pack this so we can take it with us?"

"Technically, you just asked me to steal from the High Lord," she said, voice stern even as the corner of her lips quirked up into a half-smile.

"Which isn't a bigger ask than anything Azriel has every instructed you to do."

She slid one last pin into my bun. "I'll make sure it gets packed with everything else. You can repay me by sitting still next time I arrange your hair."

I nearly told her it was a deal, but that was perilously close to a bargain. I didn't need another tattoo. Instead, I thanked her and made my way downstairs to be ready when Mor and Amren arrived.

Rhys—in reading glasses again—had stretched his long legs across the sofa as he skimmed the intelligence briefing that Cerridwen had delivered when she arrived. An expression I couldn't read flickered across his face as he drank in the sight of me. He barely seemed to take in the crown; it was the dress, I noticed, that made his lips part for a moment. I didn't understand why.

"Even more radiant than usual," he said, answering a question I hadn't been able to ask.

But still, I shrugged. "Easy to do when I don't set the bar very high most days."

His violet eyes seemed to shutter, even as he set the report down and came over to me. I let him pull me close, and his breath tickled my cheek as he sighed.

"One day, you'll believe it when I call you beautiful," he whispered.

Though I was a far cry from ugly, spending my days surrounded by the perfect, ethereal beauty of the fae made it hard to feel attractive. I said nothing—I could already imagine Rhys's smug reminder that mates were equals and the Cauldron had matched me with the most handsome High Lord for a reason.

Careful not to smudge the makeup Cerridwen had applied, Rhys pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder. I savored the closeness, the heat of him. My eyes fluttered shut.

The sound of Mor's voice made us both jump; we'd gotten so lost in each other that we hadn't noticed her winnow in with Amren. "Do you two ever manage to get your hands off each other?" she said.

"No," Rhys said, slowly—deliberately—raking his hand across my body, from my ribcage to my hip.

I reached up and cupped his cheek with my palm. "We don't."

Amren made a noise that might have been a gag. Rhys ignored it, tipping his head to kiss my hand, then dragging his nose down the inside of my wrist. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to memorize my scent before I left.

Cauldron, I was going to miss him.

"I am certainly not explaining to Helion that we're late because you can't stop sniffing your mate," Amren hissed.

Also choosing to ignore her, I pulled Rhys closer and kissed him goodbye. Mor stood with her arms out, waiting to winnow us, and once I pulled away from Rhys, I slipped my hand into hers. Rhys's gaze slid to Amren, and for a moment, I wondered if they were speaking mind-to-mind.

"Don't give me that look," Amren said, taking Mor's other hand. "You know perfectly well it's not that sort of mission, but yes, I'll protect her with my life, High Lord."

"Mine, too. Don't give your brothers too much trouble while we're gone," Mor said.

We faded into mist, and the distance hit me like a brick. The last time I'd been this far from Rhys, I'd been in Velaris and he'd been Under the Mountain. Our mating bond seemed to groan in protest, and for a moment, I felt as if it might rip my rib right out of my chest. As we materialized, the pain faded to a dull ache.

…only to be replaced by the discomfort of too-bright sunlight shining directly into my eyes. I squinted and dropped Mor's hand.

The three of us stood on a balcony overlooking a city full of white limestone towers and domed golden roofs. Everything seemed to reflect the sunlight back into the sky, and a hazy heat made the air feel heavy. I had the sudden urge to find a rock and lie motionlessly like a lizard or stretch out in a sunbeam like a lazy, contented cat.

Once my eyes adjusted, my gaze dropped down to the balcony floor, where colorful shadows danced along the white stone. I turned and found the source—hanging ornaments of colored glass dangling in the open archway. Each intricate shape seemed expertly carved to best reflect the the sunlight, and if we weren't about to meet with a High Lord, I would have stepped closer to appreciate the artistry.

Though…there wasn't a High Lord in sight. Or any advisors or courtiers here to greet us, either. "Where is he?" I said.

"Due east," Mor said. "He might be a bit far for human eyes to spot just yet, but he'll be here soon."

Once I shielded my eyes, I could just make out a dark spot against the cloudless blue sky. The outline of wings came into view, and for a moment, I thought I might be looking at an Illyrian. Then again, if Rhys had a hidden set of wings, so might the other six High Lords. Maybe they'd all tucked them away Under the Mountain…

But no—the wings belonged to a horse. And Helion was its rider.

Back in his own domain and with his magic returned, the High Lord of the Day Court seemed to glow even more powerfully. Like Rhys's, Helion's skin had returned to a healthy dark color now that he was no longer confined underground—though if I dared paint them, I'd need a deeper burnt umber pigment for Helion. He wore the same crisp white bolt of cloth I'd seen before, now with the addition of a radiant spiked golden crown. It glinted atop his onyx hair, which had been arranged into a cascade of small braids adorned with golden beads.

The stallion he rode was just as beautiful as its rider. The jet-black horse was all muscle, its fur gleaming in the sun and the hair of its mane billowing in the wind off its wings. I stood, transfixed by the creature's graceful movement through the air.

"Thank the Mother," Mor breathed at my left. "Meallan is his most beloved pegasus—I'm glad Amarantha didn't manage to butcher him along with the others."

Meallan's hooves clicked as he alighted on the balcony, and Helion patted his thick, muscular neck before swinging a powerful leg over the beast's flank and dropping easily to his feet. He approached us, amber eyes wary. I braced myself for bows and formal greetings, ready to play courtier.

But when Helion's gaze landed on Mor, his expression softened, as if he was too overwhelmed to continue keeping up appearances. "It's so good to see you alive," he said, pulling her into a hug.

I caught Mor's smile as she squeezed him back and said, "It's been a long fifty years, but you don't look like you've aged a day."

Azriel's words from weeks ago came back to me—that everyone knew I had been the reason for reunions like this. The thought bolstered my confidence, and I stood a little straighter.

But as Helion released Mor, he turned to Amren next. "A pleasure as always," he said, giving her a brief nod.

I tried to look unbothered as Helion's attention finally landed on me. A lazy smile spread across his face, and it took everything in me not to hide my left hand behind my back. If he'd known I was glamoured Under the Mountain, then he surely detected the spells covering my tattoo and my scent just as easily here in his domain. As I waited for him to say something about it, I forced myself to keep breathing.

But all he said was, "Welcome to the Day Court, Cursebreaker."

[matchingbatbites]

just guy stuff

@steddiemicrofic || June prompt: Stuff || Word count: 483 || Rating: E || CW: Cheating (Steve and Eddie are both married and having an affair behind their wives backs)

“The - fuck - the girls will be back soon,” Steve gasps, his hands clawing at Eddie's shoulders as the man fucks into him, over and over.

Eddie grunts and places a wet, sucking kiss to Steve's jaw, so gentle compared to the way his hips snap against Steve's ass, every thrust pushing them up the couch a bit more.

Eddie had been a wild card in Steve's life, a sudden source of passion when he needed it most. 

The thing is, Steve's never loved his wife the way he's supposed to. He loved the idea of being married, loved the approval of his parents when he proposed to Jenny, and he knows that she loves him.

He just can't seem to love her back.

It's been four years of putting on a facade. Four years before the dinner party for Jenny's colleagues, before meeting Cait and Eddie, and fuck. The man was everything Steve's ever dreamed of - edgy and cocky and so fucking hot. 

He saw through Steve's charade in an instant and pulled him apart with nothing but his hands and words, the two of them locked in the master bathroom under the excuse of showing Eddie his hair products. 

(“He could use a little help in that area,” Cait had teased, and Steve had resisted the urge to run up the stairs.)

It's been easier to hide the affair than Steve expected, the two women seemingly happy to leave their husbands alone while they go out to brunch or shopping or something similar. What's been hard is watching Eddie leave afterwards, seeing his hand settle on the small of Cait’s back and hating that it's not touching him.

Right now, at least, Eddie's hands clutch at Steve's waist like he never intends to let go, fingers digging in so hard that Steve is worried about him leaving behind bruises - God, Steve wants Eddie to bruise him, to mark him up.

“Can't wait for that fucking conference,” Eddie mutters into Steve's skin as his hips slow into a heavy grind. “Gonna take my time with you while they're gone, baby, spread you out and play with your beautiful body until you're crying for me. Wanna take you apart and put you back together piece by piece, lovely.”

Steve wants that so bad he almost sobs, and he barely gets out a “Gonna come, Eddie, please-”

By the time their wives stumble through the front door, giggly and relaxed from overpriced mimosas, Steve and Eddie have cleaned up and settled back into their perfect pretense of camaraderie.

“Hi honey,” Jenny says as she moves over and plants a sticky kiss on Steve's cheek. “What have you boys been up to today?”

Steve shrugs and looks over at Eddie, who repeats the motion with an easy smile. “Just guy stuff,” he says, and Steve nods in agreement.

“Yeah, just guy stuff.”

[artsycloudysleepy]

note for followers: I'll stop tagging any UTY spoilers in 2-3 months! i'll say when i do, but just as a (very early) heads-up! :D

as always, please at least watch a playthrough it's too good to pass up on omg

(+ anyone who wants to read the tags dw i don't spoil anything /srs)

[dunmeshistash]

Greetings, Mr. Meshi!

This is perhaps a bit of an unorthodox question, but one that has been bothering me for an unreasonable amount of time.

Now, here's the thing: I OBSESS over Marcille outliving everyone she holds dear. It's a theme very close to me, but even beyond that I just find it to be one of the most interesting elements of Dungeon Meshi's story for me personally. I've written an embarrassing amount of lengthy essays on it that will never see the light of day - that's how obsessed I am over this specific element of her character. But, there's something that bothers me...

A lot of poignant stories and artworks that tackle this topic get comments on 'em whenever Falin is the subject of aging, each one some variation of "Everything points to Falin having an extended lifespan after her revival!" which... Seems weird to me?

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but setting aside my personal annoyances, I don't remember anything pointing to this at all. At least, nothing concrete.

I don't know if this is a question you'd want to answer or not, but since your blog is a hub for all sorts of opinions and headcanons, I'd love to know where this line of thought could originate from.

I really wouldn't blame you if you didn't answer this question, though. Part of me feels I'm just asking this because I want to see if others share in my confusion or not.

Rrrregardless, though! Lemme take the opportunity to say that your blog is delighful. Love it! Also, that mushroom man with the funny face that sometimes responds to you with lengthy essays is also really cool. Everyone is cool. At least here on the northern hemisphere! It is smack dab in the middle of fall, after all! Coolness all around! Stay frosty! Or don't! Maybe warm up at a fireplace. I don't know!

Hi there! Thank you for the kind words, I love reading other's opinions on what I post so I also love the additions by the mushroom <3

It's quite hot over here in northeast Brazil, send some coolness my way please I'm dying.

Your question isn't strange at all! And I don't mind answering anything (unless it's rude or sounds like shipping war bait) so don't worry.

(Decided to put the rest under a readmore, TLDR: Kui said "maybe so, right?" about Falin having a longer lifespan but I have arguments why I don't think this actually confirms it. Anyway if you're someone who likes the headcanon you might want to skip this post)

To be honest those type of comments bother me too because I also LOVE Marcille's struggle with mortality and sometimes "Falin will live much longer!" feels undermining of the lesson she had to learn. I don't mind it in the headcanon sphere where everything is allowed and happy endings grow on trees but when it becomes intertwined with canon it starts to make me a little disappointed.

Just a reminder of the lesson she has to learn

She has to come to terms with the cycle of life and death, that something she wants (everyone to live longer) shouldn't be forced upon others just because it causes her grief. So, to me at least, Falin being made into something that will end up outliving other tallmen would undermine the message? In a canon sense ofc, if you're writing a wish fulfillment story then her living longer would have a different meaning, I just wanna be clear I have nothing against it in that sense, it all depends on what story you're trying to tell.

Anyway, actually answering your question that idea comes from the fact she was fused to a Red Dragon, and the fact her body has been affected by it, her sight was fixed and she grows feathers for example, so people theorize maybe her lifespan has been affected too. But we don't really know how long dragon's live so it's hard to say how much it would have been affected if at all.

It also comes from this answer Kui gave in a QnA

Q: Would Falin have an extended lifespan after the whole chimera thing? A: Maybe so, right?

To me this reads as the usual non-answers Kui gives, like, "I'll leave it up to your imagination" but for other people this read as a confirmation of the headcanon, in another questions she answers "I hope so" about Thistle leading a happy life after having his desires eaten and it's even debatable if Thistle survived at all so I don't think those comments indicate much of canon (I'm that way about most QnA answers tbh, unless it's something inconsequential like confirming Mithrun's Brother's name or stuff about very minor characters)

Another argument I have against her having a different lifespan is Izutsumi, Izu has been mixed with a monster but continues to age at the same rate a Tallmen would, even tho she also has different biology because of the Great Cat she's fused with (ears, reflexes, eyes etc etc) she is still a tallman

Falin isn't really the same thing as Izutsumi tho, I understand, but it's the closest example we have, if we believe the AB descriptions and demi-humans are really mixes between humans and monsters that's also another argument about it not affecting lifespan, since all of them are short lived and have an average lifespan of 55.

All of this *can* be dissmissed tho, the other demi-humans and beastmen are all mixed with mammal monsters and nothing nearly as powerful as a Dragon, so there is arguments to be made that Falin is different and that she *might* have an extended lifespan, all I'm saying is that there's no solid confirmation of it, it's fine to believe it but going around "correcting" other people saying it's a fact wouldn't be right I don't think, especially if you're saying that in a conversation about Marcille journey of death acceptance.

Death is a touchy subject and everyone is at different stages of their own journeys with it so I really don't want to judge those who would rather have Falin or even Laios live longer. I'm not really sure how to talk about this in the proper way, but I hope I didn't make anyone upset!

[mod-jazzy]

I was asked so! Here are my silly lil prompts for my personal month challenge thing!!!

NOTE: This is not a official thing or what have you, I was just asked to share the prompts for my lil self challenge, so I am! This is my own personal little challenge because I've had these prompts since 2019 and I want to use them

I'll put under a readmore because it is... like. 30 things lmao

Day 1: First Askblog OC The first blog OC you made! Day 2: Most recent askblog OC Can be a side or main character, just the most recent OC you've made for a blog! Day 3: The Modsona Draw your modsona! Self love n all that Day 4: Redraw a silly/funny askblog panel Find a old silly/funny or shitpost panel from one of your blogs and redraw it! Day 5: Evolution scene Draw your OC evolving! Can be past event, future event or something that already happened for a silly redraw! Day 6: Blog Swap Draw one of your blog OCs as a character on one of your other blogs! If don't have more than one blog, switch up their role with someone else on your current blog! Day 7: Favoritism wins Draw your absolute favorite OC from your blog! Indulge a little Day 8: "Nothing bad happens" What would your OC look like if their plot had nothing bad happen Day 9: Redraw a sad panel Redraw a old sad panel! Last prompt was too cheery, redraw that angst with your updated abilities! Day 10: Favorite Magic Anon Blast from the past, relive that glorious magic anon Day 11: Easiest OC to draw Draw that easy fellow, relax a little! Day 12: Difficult OC to draw Back on that grind, draw that one guy who is the absolute most difficult for you!! Day 13: Redraw your least favorite panel We all have that one panel that just, didn't come out right. Try again! Maybe it'll be nice to see your improvement.. or maybe you'll hate it again. Anyways, chop chop Day 14: Injury Draw that dramatic/important injury your character went through. Past, present or future! Day 15: Beach episode What it says on the tin, we love a filler episode. Can be plot relevant but hey, they deserve to relax too Day 16: Favorite blog Draw some fan art for your favorite blogger! Whether they are a friend, inspiration or what have you! Extra challenge: redraw some old fan art you did for them Day 17: Plot Changer That one moment... the thing that made everything twist. That really hit a hard turn in your storyline! Can be past, present or possible future! Day 18: Scrapped Idea What was that scrapped concept again? Or was it a character.. or even something as silly as a slight design change? Day 19: What's a God to a Blogger Most of us have that one god. That one important guy in the sky... or the ocean.. or under a truck... man pokemon is weird. Day 20: Canon Compliant Stylization is so interesting and unique!... but strip that away. Be close to pokemon canon. Day 21: Shiny Beam A easy one... make that little guy shiny!!... Oh they are already shiny?... well then undo that. Silly. Day 22: Dream interaction What's a interaction with your characters that you would really love to see or are excited for? Can be within your own storyline or a interaction with someone else Day 23: Real World Sighting Draw your OC(s) in a real life photo! Bonus points if its a photo you took. Take this chance to go for a nice walk and take some pretty pictures!.... touch grass. Day 24: A spoiler that.. wouldn't make sense to others That's right. Be vague. Spoil a little bit in the most vague manner. It's always fun to see others speculate. Day 25: In blog ship Draw your favorite ship within your own blog! Friendship/romantic ship/hate ship... Just whatever one makes you smile Day 26: Out of blog ship Same prompt as 25.. But with your OC and someone ELSE'S! again, friendship/romantic ship/etc etc! Day 27: Different Art Medium! That's right. Draw/sculpt/etc your OC in a different art medium than normal. This will either be fun or horrifying for you Day 28: The Inspiration VS the OC Draw your OC with their inspiration! Can be the storyline that inspired them... or the character that desired them! Etc etc Day 29: Song drawing Yeah that's right. Draw your OC/Blog with the song that you associate them with! As a treat Day 30: Redraw first blog post / Thank you Cliche ending alert!! Redraw your first ever askblog panel you have ever made. Not the first post on a more recent blog.. no. THE FIRST ONE. EVER. Or be corny and draw a heartfelt thank you to all of your friends and followers you made Or hell.. maybe even both

[corpupine]

I've been doing a lot of thinking...and I feel like I need to scream this out somehow even though I'm sure it's been talked about before (and I'm putting it under a readmore because it gets long).

No matter what, in any playthrough you do and any timeline you create.

UNDERTALE is a game about guilt.

You have Toriel, so guiltridden she couldn't protect her own children that she devotes herself to never letting another child leave again. And then they do!! over and over again, that guilt compounds until it's the center of her life and every choice she makes!!

And obviously Asgore, so guiltridden that he couldn't protect his own children from humans that he spends the rest of his days trying to get out and get revenge on them--as if that will stop the voices in his head saying, if you had been out there with them you could have stopped it, you could have stopped those humans from killing your children, and maybe he could have!! Or maybe not!! He'll never know and it eats him from the inside out!

Alphys, oh my sweet summer child this fandom does not deserve you!! Alphys, so guiltridden from her own perceived failures as a scientist that she began to try anything, anything to make the King happy, and it seemed to be working at first, and then it was so everlastingly worse, how can you cause something worse than death?? without even trying??

And it shows up in little ways, silly ways, too! Ways you wouldn't even think about as guilt! Undyne! She feels guilty that she won't let Papyrus join the Royal Guard so she gives him cooking lessons instead! Papyrus feels guilty that he's not in love with you after one date so he'll "keep being your cool friend and act like this never happened!"

SANS MY BOI don't even get me started. His guilt isn't as physically obvious but he made a promise to toriel, he promised her he would keep the human safe, and in timelines where you save everyone he follows you pretty much all throughout the Underground (even if he doesn't do anything to help smh) because he'd feel guilty not doing it, and in timelines where you kill everyone he feels guilty for not stopping you, AND in those SAME timelines he feels guilty for stopping you because it means he's breaking his promise to Toriel to keep you safe I!!! This boy can fit so much cosmic guilt in him!!!!

Asriel! FLOWEY!! Do you ever wonder if he feels guilty about being the one to wake up again? The one to survive, when Chara had to die twice?? He sits at their grave and he will do anything, anything to drown out those thoughts so he befriends and kills and torments and it's all the same and it's all useless!!

And their guilt compounds each others'! Toriel makes Sans make that promise because of her own guilt, which increases his! Asgore's guilt is what pushes Alphys so far past the limits of ethical science, because he increases hers!

And all of this, all of this, ALL OF THIS pales in comparison to you!!!

You!! The player! You return to the Underground after maybe accidentally killing Toriel or a few others because you didn't know, you never wanted to hurt them!! You listen to Flowey and you come back and you save them all!

You! The player!!! You cry at the ending and you'd feel guilty, so guilty about letting them all go, wouldn't you? So you ignore Flowey's pleas to let it alone, and you come back again, you say hello to your dear friends but this time it isn't the same, this time you kill them all because you want to see everything this game has to offer, might as well get your money's worth, the fights are cool, right?? And then you get hit with the most unsatisfying atomic bomb of an ending and the only thing left is your own reflection staring back at you from the black screen of your computer as the horror dawns, what have you done???

YOU!!! The player! You go back again even though there is no Flowey left to tell you to, and you save them all again because I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, nobody deserves what I did to all of you, and it's all good, nobody remembers, and then you get to the end. The game knows what you did!!! It never forgot, and it'll make certain you never forget either!! Guilt!! Guilt, guilt!!! It's baked into the code of this game!!

Anyways tl;dr, maybe it actually did make sense to give this game to the pope

[mandiemegatron]

Why kill off the reader in the second part of losing the war? I was expecting Kidd or Killer to get hurt or something but killing the reader? Tell us you don't care about your readers without telling us you don't care about your readers. Who the fuck kills off the READER? Take the L and maybe stop acting like your writing is better than it actually is.

*deep breath*

Okay.

I've received a handful of anons similar to this one and I didn't think I'd have to come on here to break down my ideas and give reasons as to why I wrote something the way I did, but clearly some people are pretty pressed over my choices for Just Come Home. Everything under the readmore so I don't clog up people's dash.

Let's break this down one point at a time. So firstly, my choice to kill off the Reader was actually a last-minute decision while finishing it off. My original idea was reader never forgives Kid and decides to fight Kid and Killer instead, losing and being left for dead (for Law to find), but decided, why not even more hurt? More pain and more anguish, as I was asked to put Kid through via some askers/anons. I found the best way to do that, was to kill off the reader. Have them make amends only to have that ripped from Kids hands and destroyed with a simple flick of the wrist, and honestly, the fact that I had myself in tears while writing it gave me the motivation to continue with that idea.

I also wanted to delve into trying my hand at Law who felt backed into a wall and decided to spill blood, all for the sake of having an upper hand, and if that meant he had to off the reader to keep that upper hand, then so be it. I wanted to write something different from my usual angst, something a little more devastating and I feel like I hit that mark pretty damn close. Truly, I'm sorry you feel differently about it.

Secondly, don't you EVER come into my inbox and point fingers, saying I don't care about my readers. Buddy, I probably care TOO MUCH about my readers, about what they think and about how they feel when reading my writing. This is incredibly hurtful for you to come up here and essentially scream in my face that this isn't good enough. I need you to understand that if you dont enjoy something, that means it wasn't written for YOU. Not everything you come across is going to be to your taste and it's insanely self-centered and entitled of you to come in here and tell me I don't give a fuck about my readers because YOU thought it was stupid. It feels like you're taking this a little personally and I don't understand why.

Lastly, i don't sit here and brag about my writing. In fact, I feel like I stay pretty quiet other than some self reblogs of things I've written when I'm feeling that certain blorbo. It's confusing and again, hurtful, for you to come in here and essentially tell me to shut the fuck up... on my own blog. That's some strange activities there, buddy. I think you maybe need to log off for a bit, go sit in nature and do some deep breathing because this is crossing the line over to chronically online. Please go outside for a bit. Please revise your manners and remember the golden rule. You don't have to be religious for you to understand "treat others the way you want to be treated".

Do better.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Fanfiction Etiquette 101

(Things You Didn't Know You Need To Know)

So, I have seen some discussions about these things on my dashboard, and I know some people are new to tumblr and new to fanfiction in general, so I decided to put this list together in case it might help people. And this stuff goes for all fandoms, no matter what type of fanfiction to write and post.

Also fyi, this post is mostly for people who write and post fanfiction.

1: Putting A Readmore/Cut On Fanfiction

So a 'readmore' (also known as a 'cut') is the ability to put the body of your fanfiction under a cut off link so that people's dashboards are not clogged up by long sprawling paragraphs of text. This is also helpful if your fic contains smut and people don't want to be subjected to smut - people have to click through to keep reading sensitive topics.

The button for it looks like this on desktop:

And this bar of options comes up on desktop when you hit 'enter' on a blank line.

And it looks like this on mobile:

Tumblr put it permanently into the hotbar of options so that it's easier for people to put a readmore on their posts on mobile.

Once you have inputted it, it comes up as a light grey jagged line, showing you where your text cuts off in the main post aka what text is visible before the cut and what's not.

And generally, I think it's a good idea to put the readmore after the first paragraph of your fic, or after the description/summary.

I have noticed that some people put it in after several paragraphs for a longer fic, but I think to make fics easier to reblog, you could put it closer to the top. And even if you're writing smut blurbs, you should put it close to the top to keep smut concealed in case people don't want to read or see smut.

If you don't use a readmore, people are less likely to reblog your fic because they don't want to put a long text wall on other people's dashboards.

2: Using (Stolen) Gifs As Fanfiction Covers

I have seen some discussion about using gifs from google, and people putting a gif that they have downloaded and simply writing under it 'this gif is not mine, please DM me if it's your and I will give you credit'.

It's generally established among gif makers that downloading random gifs and putting them on your fanfiction is bad etiquette. Those are considered stolen gifs.

Even if you say it's not yours and offer to give credit, any gif you repost that is not yours is considered a stolen gif.

Fanfiction writers and gif makers need to work together, not against each other. Reblog gif sets you like, and don't download random gifs, no matter what the source is.

The best way to use gifs as fanfiction covers is to make them yourself or to use the tumblr integrated gif search system.

The gif search system is in the same hot bar as the readmore, labelled under 'gif'.

When you pull it up and click on it, you type in the name of the character you are looking for, and then you can scroll through the results. You can click on a gif to add it to your post, and remove it if you don't like it. So you can try out different gifs to find the right fit of what you're looking for.

And when you find what you're looking for and put it on your post, it automatically credits the gifmaker.

And the credit appears like this. And the name of the gifmaker can be clicked and then it takes you to their blog, so you can see who made the gif. This is a much better way to use gifs, because if someone likes a gif they see on your fic post, they can click through to the original gifmaker and reblog it.

Alternatively, using stills from the show/piece of media you're fanfic is about is a great way to avoid using stolen gifs.

2.5: Using Flashing Gifs On Fanfiction

I have noticed that a lot of people use flashing dividers for their fics, and they don't tag it with a flashing warning (#flashing gif or something similar) and they don't see this as a problem.

Using a flashing gif in fanfiction without a warning can negatively affect disabled readers. Not just people with photosensitive seizures, but people with migraines and different types of eye issues.

3: Using Coloured Text For Fanfiction

Speaking of accessibility issues, I have noticed that many people (especially people new to tumblr/new to fanfiction) use Tumblr's coloured text option to differentiate characters in fanfiction - assigning one colour per character with dialogue.

Some people also just use coloured text for the whole body of their fics, just making it straight up unreadable for disabled people.

Using coloured text in fanfiction makes it inaccessible because certain types of colour blindness makes it unreliable to see on a white background, and bright colours can cause eye strain for different types of disabilities.

It is kinder to use the traditional black text for the body of your fic, and any important information (like the content warnings, DNI criteria, etc).

4: Putting Thorough Content Warnings On Fanfiction

Speaking of content warnings - I could (and probably should) make an entire post about this topic alone, because many writers (both new and old) are severely lacking in this department.

Content warnings are supposed to be more for just smut - and if you do have smut in your fic, you should put warnings for that, instead of just releasing for fic into the wild with no warnings at all. Content warnings are supposed to be for anything that could be potentially triggering for a reader - phobias and fears, sensitive topics, uncomfortable or fear-inducing situations, and kinks and nsfw topics.

Tbh I think not enough people put warnings for alcohol and alcohol consumption in their fics, because alcohol is far too normalized to most people, but again - I could probably make a whole post just about content warnings in fanfiction. Basically: if you think your post could be triggering to someone with an addiction or in addiction recovery (or triggering to a sober person who doesn't want to read about drugs or alcohol) - then include those things in the content warnings.

Fanfiction is about informed consent.

People need to be better informed about what the content of your fic is before they consent to reading it. Also, if you're worried about the warnings being too detailed and giving away 'spoilers' for your fic, then you're probably worried about the wrong thing. And you can just put a warning at the very top that says "the content warnings of this fic contain spoilers for the plot of the fic" and let people make their choice if they want to skip the content warnings or not.

Please, write about all the dark or sensitive topics that you want, but just put detailed warnings on your fic so people can be informed about it before reading your fic.

People always appreciate thorough warnings, and they are more likely to read your fic if they are fully informed before clicking into the body of it.

4.5: (Not) Censoring Content Warnings

Tumblr is not tiktok. (Same goes for posting fics on AO3, but this post is mostly about Tumblr fics.) On Tumblr you can say/spell out any word you want without your post being suppressed or taken down - suicide, kill, murder, fuck, abortion, hell, porn, tits, cumshot, etc.

So that means that when you're writing out the content warnings of a fic, you should write them out fully, rather than putting slang or alluding to the topics in a fic. (Again, informed consent.) Rather than saying 'this fic contains SA', say: 'this fic contains sexual assault' or 'this fic contains rape'.

I saw someone using the term 'unalive' in the content warnings of their fic, and tbh, that's what inspired me to make this whole post.

If you're not mature enough to spell out all the topics in the content warnings of the post, you're not mature enough to be writing and posting about those topics.

Also, try not to use terms that need to be looked up/implicit terms. Certain terms for kinks (like dacryphilia or somnophilia) might lead a person to google those terms and find things they don't want to see. So instead of using those terms, just say 'crying kink' or 'sleeping kink' instead, so that everything is spelled out plainly.

...

This is all I can think of for now. Basically, just be kind to others when posting fics. Be kind to gif makers, disabled readers, and anyone from your fandom who might have an interest in your fic! Be safe and have fun writing! <3

[alvfr]

I know you just got an ask about Aaron not wanting more kids (which I totally agree with!! that man is already so tired and stretched thin as is) how do you think he would deal with an unexpected pregnancy??

Okay, there's a lot of nuance to this answer, so let's start with some assumptions, yes? Edit: this got way too long putting it under a readmore sorry.

Hotch is a guarded man and does not strike me as the type to have casual relationships (except I totally started writing a fic where he has an ONS but I digress) and thus, I assume he is in a committed relationship with someone he loves for an unexpected pregnancy to happen.

He is also a grown man who knows about contraception and their, eh, rate of success

So if an unexpected pregnancy happens, he knows it's not anyone's fault and since he loves you, he will commit 100% to what you want to do. And he will be oh so frickin' careful not to push you to anything.

And if you decide to go through with it? He will be there for you, every step of the way.

Will he maybe just a little bit be bitter at the universe for this happening?

Maybe. Just a little bit. A pregnancy is a big deal, and an unexpected one is a whole other creature. There's the practical stuff and the emotional stuff and the logistical stuff and just so much stuff that could go wrong. He didn't ask for that, but he knows you didn't either, so he will do his best to keep that resentment directed away from you.

You would have to pry to get him to admit this btw, but your relationship is all the better for it. You weren't prepared for this pregnancy either, after all, and you have a lot of your own emotions connected to it. It's a big deal, all right?

And this is still Hotch so you know he'd fix everything. Everything. From painting the nursery to buying that C-shaped pregnancy pillow to getting whatever craving you have in the middle of the night and he'll schedule time off for a few weeks after the birth (something he always regretted not doing when Jack was born and he saw how much of a toll those weeks were on Haley) and he will be there.

He will book extra sessions with the family therapist to make sure Jack is emotionally prepared for getting a sibling.

He will not book extra sessions for himself to be emotionally prepared though and he might pull away more as your pregnancy becomes obvious and he might struggle with every case that involves children even more than he already did because of Jack.

And leading up to your due date, he spends more time at work than home, subconsciously trying to make up for the time he knows he's taking off after the baby is born.

Maybe he's avoiding you a little bit too. Not you, but the physical evidence of how your life is going to be turned upside down and it's easier to drown himself in work than face his own conflicting emotions about it all. Because he's also feeling guilty that he's excited about this since he does not feel he neither deserves you nor another chance of love.

But he does.

And this would not have happened if he didn't love you and he would not have loved you if you did not know him so well, so you try to give him time and space to deal with his own emotions in addition to your hormonal ones.

And Hotch will, eventually, allow himself to be happy. And he will dote on the baby and on you and feel his heart swell with pride when Jack steps up as a big brother and he will, maybe, finally delegate more at the office to spend more time home.

And he will love you and the baby no matter what.

This got really sappy real fast I'm sorry not sorry. Also super messy, but here are my unbridled thoughts I guess. Totally not influenced by my own experience with unexpected pregnancy.

Peace and love! Thank you for the question!

[rosanna-writer]

Knuckles Bruised Like Violets (1/1)

Summary: Love blooms at the garden expo when Elain witnesses a handsome stranger pick a fight with Tamlin. Pairing: Elriel Warnings: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: ~1.2k

Read on AO3 or under the readmore!

Elain had known they'd cross paths again. She was a florist. He owned a nursery. Running into her sister's ex at some industry event was bound to happen before long.

But even if she'd been able to see the future, Elain would never have guessed that Tamlin would be bold enough to buy a bouquet for his new girlfriend from his ex-fiancée's sister, a few short weeks after they'd called the wedding off.

To make it worse, the new girl was there with him, too. Briar—Elain only remembered her name because Nesta had scoffed it at Feyre during a much-needed girls' night ("Really? Were her parents naming a baby or a rabbit?"). Elain wouldn't forget, not when the eldest Archeron's mean streak had actually made her baby sister crack a smile.

From behind the cash register, Elain tried not to vomit at the sight of Tamlin making eyes at Briar the way he used to do with Feyre. They were browsing what was left of the flower arrangements for sale, and this late on the last day of the expo, there wasn't much. Especially not at Elain's booth. Her arrangements were by far the loveliest, selling out every year she'd been a vendor. If Elain had to guess, Tamlin had only mustered the courage to show his face in her corner of the convention center because he'd wanted to impress Briar with the best roses available.

If she hated conflict a bit less, Elain would have been looking forward to telling him she refused to make the sale.

Instead, dread was already blooming in the pit of her stomach. The whole thing would be horribly uncomfortable, and she wouldn't put it past Tamlin to raise his voice—or spin the narrative and make her look petty in front of other colleagues.

But the dread lessened just a bit when the most beautiful man Elain had ever seen stopped at her booth. He was intently studying the very last bunch of pink roses, and Elain let herself appreciate his classically handsome features, shiny close-cropped black hair, and the cut of the cobalt t-shirt that showed off the powerful muscles of his arms.

She supposed if he caught her staring, she'd just say she was trying to read the word emblazoned on his chest—Rosehall, if she wasn't mistaken. Perhaps another vendor, then. She could ask about it, strike up a conversation, maybe get his number.

Assuming, of course, that Tamlin didn't decide to ruin her day.

It seemed likely that that he would—her sister's ex was already reaching for the bouquet the stranger had been eyeing. Elain steeled herself for an uncomfortable conversation.

The stranger snatched the bouquet before Tamlin had a chance to. The pair exchanged a few tense words that Elain couldn't quite hear over the noise of the crowded garden expo, though she made out the words "here first" and "for my mother."

One sweet smile and a well-timed offer to ring up the purchase would diffuse the tension if Elain pointedly directed them at the stranger. She meant to do it. Really, she did.

But the man's fist had already collided with Tamlin's jaw.

He punched like an expert, with brutal, ruthless economy of movement even as he cradled the bouquet of roses like a sleeping baby in his other arm. Elain should have called for security, but she was too entranced to do anything but stay rooted to the spot.

Tamlin wound up to hit back, but Briar was already cupping his uninjured cheek and fussing. He let his fist drop uselessly to the side, and she led him away as she murmured something about finding an ice pack.

Perhaps that should have been Elain's cue to call security. But she found herself smiling and saying, "I can ring you up if you're finished browsing."

At the sound of her voice, the man turned, his eyes going wide in pure shock. He must not have realized she'd been watching the entire time.

He stepped closer, careful not to crush any of the petals as he handed her the bouquet to scan. "I'm sorry about that," he said.

His voice was midnight-dark, and Elain tried not to shiver as she wondered what it would sound like saying her name. "Don't be," she said brightly. "You saved me the trouble of telling him to leave."

"Has he been giving you problems?"

Elain had the sneaking suspicion that if she said yes, he'd offer to take care of it permanently.

"My sister broke off her engagement to him just a few weeks ago."

The man went still, and there was something preternatural about it, as if he were one the dangerous faeries of myth, something far too otherworldly for a Sunday afternoon in a too-bright event complex full of vendors hawking hedge shears and patio furniture. "You're Feyre's sister?"

Names have power. The thought came to her unbidden, the only fragment from a long-forgotten story that was still rattling around in her brain. A warning. Elain said nothing, just shook her head as if to clear it.

The man wasn't a faerie. Just…strangely magnetic. And hot.

Perhaps he'd realized the sudden outburst of violence—even if it had been directed at someone she hated—might have frightened her. He softened his expression and politely held out a hand. "I'm Azriel. Rhys's brother."

Right. Rhysand—the new boyfriend that they hadn't met yet but Nesta had immediately decided was sketchy. The newfound awareness that she might run into Azriel again jolted her back to reality, and Elain regained her manners and shook his hand.

His skin was rough against hers. Not from callouses, like the hands of hundreds of other gardeners Elain had greeted over the years, but from scars. Out of politeness, she pretended not to notice, as tempted as she was to run her fingers along them slowly.

"I'm Elain. It's very nice to meet you."

"You too," he said, sliding his card into the reader. After a beat of silence, he added, "Feyre sent me, by the way. I mentioned I was getting flowers for my mother's birthday, and she said her sister was the best florist in the business."

Thank God for her younger sister; Elain decided she'd thank Feyre by making sure not to mention to Nesta that the mysterious Rhysand had already introduced Feyre to his family.

If all the customers Feyre sent her way were like Azriel, Elain certainly wasn't about to discourage her.

"Did you find everything to your liking?" she said, fluttering her lashes to make sure it was clear she wasn't only talking about the flowers.

"It's perfect."

The receipt printed, and Elain grabbed a pen and jotted her phone number down before sliding the paper across the counter. Azriel's brows flicked up.

"In case Tamlin presses charges and you need a witness to swear you didn't put a hand on him." There were probably security cameras somewhere, but a few seconds of grainy video wouldn't be more convincing than Elain Archeron's doe eyes.

"And if it doesn't get to that point?"

She smiled. "You can still give me a call anyway."

Before Azriel left, he saved the number to his phone—a wordless promise. Elain sold the last of her arrangements with a newfound spring in her step.

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Ichiji and Ace from One Piece. Both are inside rectangle frames, Ace in right up corner and Ichiji in left down corner, their boxes intersect in the middle. Ace is seen from behind, waist up, with his head thrown back. There is crown of alternating golden lines and red spheres around his head. He doesn't have a shirt or whitebeard tatoo. In the background there is Vinsmokes' skull. Ichiji is seen from the front, hips up, slightly from above. He holds a heart in his outsretched hand. He has blood on his hands and shirt. He wears grey shirt, black trousers and white cape with red lining. His eyes are visible, he looks focused. Words '"The first"? Weird name to give a son.' and 'Perfect for a sacrifice though.' fill the remaining corners of the drawing. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 1: First meet / Immortal x mortal

How to get unimaginable power, by Vinsmoke Judge:

capture a fallen star -> try to make a deal with it -> get your favourite son to make a sacrifice in your place -> ??? -> profit

I'm boo boo the fool. I got an idea for au, made illustration first, thought the quote sounded good and filled the empty space. And then I got to writing and realised I have nowhere to put the quote so it would made sense 😗

This was supposed to be one shot for the vinsmoke shipping week but this au grew on me, i might do something with it in the future Not a lot of romance here I'm afraid 👍 maybe next time

🔽Fic under readmore 🔽 Also on Ao3

cw: slight gore, dehumanizing (refering to he/him with it/its)

Heavy basement doors closed with a dull thud behind Ichiji. The fog from his breath danced in the air, looking for any crevice that would let it out of the room.

Deep underground, sealed with runes and cement, only torches illuminating the dark - someone could call the precautions unneeded, but Ichiji knew better. He looked towards their prisoner, trapped on a painted floor.A catch like this was once in a lifetime.

The star didn't show that it noticed him yet. No matter, it wasn't needed for the first part.

Repeating father's instructions, Ichiji took a piece of chalk out of his pocket a got to work. Slender lines began to fill the empty spaces on stone walls and floor; circles, crosses and vines intersecting each other in carefully calculated patterns. The star didn't seem to move, but Ichiji could feel its eyes following him around the room. Good, so it's conscious. Not letting it disrupt him, he came back to the drawings. They needed to be perfect for the barter to work out.

He noticed, Ace thought, peeking from behind his eyelids. Well well, wasn't he an observant bastard. One that knew what he was doing; the symbols, even incomplete, already brimmed with power that made his throat dry and set of ringing in his ears. Ah, so he wantsa deal. A pretty serious one, he added to himself, looking at the size and complexity of the circle. His eyes trailed after the caped man. A few healing sigils, couple time capsules, warding lines - probably a kidney. Ace licked his lips. Maybe an eye or two if he was lucky.

Finally finished, the guy stopped before him.

"I know you are awake," he huffed.

Ace slowly opened his eyes and got better look at the figure before him. Sparse light glistened on red hair and sunglasses, the rest disappearing and reappearing from shadows.

"Why hello there," Ace said with a crooked smile. "What brings you here?"

"The deal."

Ace grimaced. Barely a word. The offering better be worth the drag; at least it'll get him out of this shitty basement.

"Silly me, of course. But, you know, there should be some decorum to this. Usually people start with their name."

Redhead stared down at him. Or at least Ace assumed he did, it was hard to tell with covered eyes. After a few moments of contempt silence the contrarian in him finally won.

"Okay, see, it goes like this:" He pointed at his chest and pronounced with exaggerated care. "My. Name. Ace." He turned the finger on him. "You. Name. What?"

For a second the shape of something like embarrassment appeared on the guy's face before it smoothed over again.

"Vinsmoke Ichiji. The oldest prince of Germa Kingdom, where you currently reside."

Ace widened his eyes. The guy- Ichiji actually responded? That was a new one. He grinned; maybe this won't be a complete waste of time.

"Ichiji... <First>? Weird thing to name a child. Your parents must be something else."

One curly brow went up.

"Is that so, Ace?"

Ace shrugged.

"I said what I said." he looked up. "So, Germa? Can't say I ever heard of it. Eh, it's not like I heard of many human kingdoms."

"You do not find us interesting, I get."

"Oh, the opposite! I find you humans really interesting; it's just your kingdoms that are just so incredible dull. You have a habit of pretending that they matter but truth be told? If you look from the side, they all look exactly the same."

Ichiji tilted his head. "Hm."

"You look less upset than I expected from someone who introduced himself as a prince," Ace inquired.

"Arguing wouldn't do anything, would it? That is not what I'm here to do." He pulled something small from his pocket and knelt next to Ace. "We should proceed."

The clang of iron shackles falling on the floor shot through the room. Ace rubbed his aching wrist.

"Well, it was nice to chat."

But Ichiji wasn't done. With the same key he started scrapping the paint from the stones around Ace. Not enough to free him, but the returning power buzzed under his skin. Ace stared with stunned expression; this deal really was going to be something else.

"Lets begin," Ichiji declared.

The air grew electrified, wind without a source banging between the walls. Ichiji stood up and draw his hands together, quietly chanting the words that made Ace's hair stand up. Ace transfixed on the redhead. His mouth curved into the feral smile, unable to contain excitement singing in his veins at the promised feast.

And then Mr. prince plunged his hand deep into his chest, blood spraying around. Sudden scent hit Ace's nose and he took sharp breath, which just made the aroma travel further his lungs, clouding mind and senses. Ichiji reached towards him with the still-beating muscle in his grip.

Ace seized the heart and bite down, savory juices exploding in his mouth, tender flesh ripping between his teeth. The blood stained his mouth so he tried to lick it off, teared between devouring the treat as fast as possible and not wasting a single drop. He was leaping from joy, fresh meat satiating his ever-present hunger for a moment and filling him with new strength. The flame inside his gut grew with every swallowed morsel; when was the last time he had a treat like this?

Engrossed in the food, Ace for a moment forgot about Ichiji, who dropped on his knees, sunglasses clinking on the floor. The blood on his chest dripped slowly, the sigils doing their job. Breathing heavily, he reached forward and grabbed the closest arm. Ace looked back at him, hastily gulping down last bits of the offering.

"Oh, right, the deal. Sorry about that. But man," He glanced down. "You must be pretty desperate! So, let's hear it."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

His face froze. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I- No-"

"The heart is valuable enough, we did the math. You have no reason to refuse."

"Hold on for a moment!" shouted Ace. "That's why you're doing it?"

Ichiji squinted his eyes. "Just do it. That was the deal."

"I don't care what happens to your silly kingdoms, whatever their compass points at, but you did all this-" He gestured at the growing red spot on his shirt. "-because your father asked you to?"

"Of course," Ichiji mouthed. "He is my father."

Ace saw red.

"Ah." The ice crept in his voice. "I see. The answer is no then."

That seemed to get the reaction. Ichiji jerked his head, fingers clawing harder into Ace's bicep. "You can't just refuse, that's not how it works! I gave you an offering-"

"Yeah, so I'm going to grant your wish. If your father wants something from me, he can offer me his own heart, instead of sending you."

"My wish is for you to grant my father's."

"Nope, not doing it."

"You-" The argument was interrupted with a coughing fit, Ichiji's grip losing some of its strength. Ace caught his spasming body before it hit the floor and swore, suddenly much too aware of how quickly his life was draining away. He was going to keel over the second he was out of the protection circle. But they couldn't stay here, someone will come here sooner or later and then...

An idea struck him with a flash.

"Hold on, stay still for a moment..."

Ace doubted Ichiji heard him, still trying to catch his breath, so he shifted him around and put a hand on his chest. He exhaled and let the warmth flow towards the hole; the magic meandered its way between frayed skin and muscle, healing what it could, and what it couldn't...

The beating returned, it's pulse synchronized to Ace's own, too soft to be human. There was no time to celebrate; he focused, pulled on the strings surrounded them both, stretched them and clenched his teeth. He braced for what was to come and let go.

The furry of light and colours surrounded them, the force beating the air out of his lungs, astral wind blowing the hair all over the place.

And the next second, it was over. Ace knelt on the sandy beach, retching. Crap. He leaped to his feet, already turning towards the body.

Ichiji could breathe again. He opened his eyes and stiffened when he realized where he was. Or rather where he wasn't.

"Oh, so it did work!"

"How?" Ichiji growled.

The star grinned.

"Well, it wasn't easy with your heart missing, but I managed to-"

"How did you escape?"

It pursed its lips.

"Of course that's what you're worried about. You're in luck, because those two things are connected." It pointed one finger up. "First! I used some of my flame to keep you alive. I can't give you your heart back, since I already ate it, but you shouldn't die for some more time." It grimaced. "It's not a permanent solution, so you'll need to find something else."

Ichiji made an annoyed face. It put another finger up.

"Second! Because of the seals I couldn't just disappear myself, but I could send you away. And we're connected now, so I can't be too far from you. So when I pushed you out, you pulled me with you, and that's how we're here." It grinned again, arms outstretching to the sides, as if showing him the beach. "As far from that basement as I could put us!

"And third!" Next finger joined the rest. "Your wish."

Ichiji gritted his teeth.

"I already told you what I wish for. You refused. There should be some punishment for that."

"Oh don't worry, there is! But I hadn't broken our deal yet." Star crossed its arms. "I fully intend to grant your wish. But only yours."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

The vein appeared on its forehead.

"Wrong answer. Let me get this straight." It leaned over him. "With the power I got from your sacrifice I manged to not only put your death on hold, but also get us both out despite all the obstacles. Do you think I would be able to do that if I was going against your heart? The way I see it, on some level, you wanted to leave. And on some level-" he stumbled. "On some level you didn't want to die. So that's how it's going to go. I'll stick around until you can give me your wish, your true wish. I'll grant it and the deal will be finished. And don't try to put any crap like the kingdom stuff."

Ichiji scowled.

"And if I try to come back and tell father about this you will just-"

"I'll just push us as far away as possible! Good, you're learning."

Ichiji glared at Ace. "It does not sound like I have a choice."

"That's something you're used to, isn't it?"

Ichiji didn't answer.

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

I know Jay has a history withDan Cody but I cannot for the life of me remember much about that man other than the fact that he died at see. If that is true, would Jay, after acquiring wealth, make a tombstone for him? Place flowers and such? Or would he bury that part of him. The past of him and Dan Cody?

Putting this under readmore because it's gonna be a doozy. Spoilers for Gatsby as well

Okay so. One thing I will remind you of is that Jay never really intended for anyone to know about Dan. His only remnant of the man is that one photograph and he hung it up on the wall in his bedroom, where I'm sure he never expected anyone to see it, at least not to a point where he'd have to explain. I don't think Jay was exactly bringing home anybody to his bedroom (until he got back with Daisy, of course)

Remember when Jay had Nick and Daisy over, and they noticed the photo of Dan (and the one of Jay from the same time), he brushed over it pretty fast. Told Nick that Dan used to be 'his best friend' and that he was dead now, and the moment Daisy latched on to that, he instantly distracted her with his weird ass scrapbooks. It wasn't until after everything blew up in his face that Jay told Nick, and only Nick, about everything.

Obviously for Gatsby I explore their relationship much further. I personally believe (through my years of research into Jay's characterization through the various drafts of this book and the original version of Absolution where it becomes clear that men of a certain persuasion think very much of Jay's good looks, even when he was too young to be viewed as attractive to any healthy person.

Dan was of course an unhealthy man. We know for a fact that he was an alcoholic, and that he was violent but Jay had put it past him/possibly forgiven him if not simply tucked the trauma away so he didn't have to inspect it (chapter nine, "...only the picture of Dan Cody, a token of forgotten violence, staring down from the wall.") That particular quote could simply refer to the violence of the Old West that Dan brought with him, but given again Absolution and Jay's constant involvement with powerful, violent older men, and his desperate pursuit of a woman like Daisy who he presumed to be soft and sweet and totally unable to hurt him, (thus making the irony of the situation that much worse when she contributes however unintentionally to his death) I believe it also refers to the violence Dan inflicted upon Jay during those five years aboard the Tuolomee.

Obviously I have my own opinions about things like Jay's sexuality and why he was so twisted up and obsessive and desperate. Much of what I believe is taken directly from fact and stretched out through interpolation of those facts, looked through a modern lens to an image of masculinity in the years Fitzgerald wrote the books. I think Jay was gay, slipped himself into a sexuality of convenience to further his ideal of a Perfect American Man, and had his wires crossed by his father's behavior so that he searched out a father that loved him—only to be met with another monster who only saw value in him when he gave up his own humanity.

Dan was, of course, that monster. In Gatsby, once we get to 1922, Jay will be wholeheartedly unable to confront the true nature of his relationship with that man. He spent so long believing it was purely romantic and that he had 'cured' Dan of his alcoholism by being good and loving someone who needed to be loved just like he did (with that notion of reciprocating saviorship following him through every other failed relationship not just through Daisy—trying to save her from having to be married off to someone she doesn't love but really just trying to undo the fact that that had, in a way, been done to him—but even to Nick, who is so unable to face himself until, possibly, when it's too late and Jay is dead) that by then, after so many years of his notion of love being clouded by want of Daisy, he's constantly on the cusp of admitting to himself that Dan abused him and he'd 'submitted to it' but he cannot fully accept that fact because if Dan didn't love him, and Daisy doesn't love him, and Nick never will—why the fuck is he even bothering?

Dan has a monument. A beautiful one, actually. A big marble tomb on the grounds of the home he used to share with Ella Kaye, bounded on each side by young willows and seasonal flowers and a plaque written by the woman who would have been his wife. The woman who killed him. Jay got to visit it just once, and spoke with Ella about what happened and why she took Dan from him, and he doesn't want to understand her reasoning because then he has to admit that he had it infinitely worse than her and never had the guts to admit it to himself. Never did anything about it. That tomb—it's a monument to his cowardice, to every opportunity he passed up in his desperation to find someone who loved him.

The photo is enough. Dan still shares a room with him just like he's still there in every 'old sport' and he's always there with his hands on Jay's shoulders any time he goes out on the hydroplane. Some things never change. Jay never stops being 17 and desperate. Nothing went wrong.

The photo is enough.

...

Also, Dan didn't die at sea. He died in Boston, likely either onboard the Tuolomee in the Harbor or, as I assumed, in the city, and Jay wasn't informed because no one knew Dan had left anyone but Ella behind.

[twothpaste]

What are your thoughts on that weird cutscene with Lucas and the magypsy that awakens his PSI? (I forgot their name)

I don't view it as harshly as some folks do, but I do think the game would be better off without it. Or at least if the scene were framed & written differently. Tryin to figure out how to word my thoughts gently… I'll put it under a readmore, since The Mere Implication Of Sexual Assault is a heavy subject, even if it doesn't actually happen in the game. Content Warning for that, and discussion of transphobic bigotry.

Itoi writes the Magifolk about as sympathetically & endearingly as a clueless old cis man could, and has spoken fondly about them in interviews. He didn't do a great job imo, but I get the gist his heart was in the right place. He clearly didn't intend to demonize Ionia in that scene. The angle I suspect Itoi was going for, is like? He knew older players' minds would drift to the worst possible outcome. So he set it up, and deliberately subverted that expectation. You see that Ionia meant no harm to Lucas, and was only helping him awaken his PSI, and you go "oh." Itoi probably hoped older players would take this moment to reconsider their bigoted biases. And while younger players would be confused, he knew it'd make more sense to them later in retrospect. Maybe he hoped that these kids, upon encountering anti-queer propaganda irl, would be able to consider it more critically after experiencing this scene (and the Magifolk in general) in Mother 3. That's, ah. The most generous interpretation I can offer.

Regardless though, it's handled pretty badly. I think it's definitely framed as a joke. The player's expected to taken aback and bewildered and grossed out, and then expel a relieved laugh when it turns out everything's fine. Misleading the player into being suspicious of a trans coded character - in This Particular Way 😬 - is probably not the best method to go about critiquing bigotry & exposing biases. CSA isn't something to joke about or handle flippantly. Neither is the fact a lot of queer folks end up targeted, hurt, and/or killed as a consequence of "groomer" narratives (which conservatives have been pushing for decades). I see & respect what he was going for - but surely there must've been a better way to accomplish it. Dropping "see, our child protagonist didn't get hurt by the weird trans character" like it's a punchline just sucks no matter how I try to slice it.

There's a lot of clumsy handling when it comes to representation of marginalized groups in the Mother series. This scene and Reggie are by far the worst examples imo. I've seen some fans say this scene almost put them off of Mother 3 entirely, and truthfully I can't blame them. It's actually something I think new players probably deserve to be warned about before getting into the game.

If anyone's never seen it before, [ Here's a page from an interview ] where Itoi talks a little about it. I do think his perspective is super interesting, even though I don't like how he executed it.

[elvhenmage]

everything i have to say abt davrin lacks the extra nuance that i assume one gets from his romance scenes, but i still find him fascinating – that drive for Purpose that made him join the gray wardens, and yet, the pursuit of that Purpose often framing him in… sort of insignificant ways? ways that de-center him?

finding and caring for the griffins is important, but his way of speaking about it tends to position him as just The Guy Who This Task Falls To – the bodyguard, not as important as the actual trainers who died. (which shifts a bit over time, but initially……)

and like, being the one to slay the archdemon and die in the process is in no way insignificant, but it's not JUST that – he considers ALL the wardens that died in weisshaupt heroes, and thus, there’s that sense that he failed by not fighting till the bitter end like they did. even if he didn't die to the archdemon, and just fell to the army of darkspawn, he would have Fulfilled That Purpose still.

and he DOES take pride in a lot of the things he’s been able to do since joining the gray wardens, but even then, those sort of heroics seem to often be framed as A Gray Warden Thing (sweeping thru a town beset by darkspawn and saving the townsfolk) rather than… something that he, As Davrin, has done.

(wish i remembered more of the phrasing he uses when talking abt his monster carvings – done for a very noble purpose, and is more obviously something that he can do because of HIS specific experiences with monsters and HIS skills with woodcarving/whittling, but even so, i think what he says still decenteres him from the act a bit)

SO. that sense of loss and failure he has to grapple with… the guilt that comes with LIVING………. thinking you’ve found Your Purpose and then having to grapple with not fulfilling that and eventually finding A New Purpose………. and then facing the possibility of dying nobly anyway OR watching a friend carry out that last noble sacrifice in your place???? much and more could – and likely has – been said about him by those more eloquent that me but even so. even so…

this got so long LOL i'll put it under a readmore. also i hope i managed to stay at least sort of on topic, i kinda got carried away 😭

well as far as i've been able to tell, outside of locking in the romance during the feeding the halla quest, you only get the one extra scene near the end if he's been romanced, so 🤡 but i've only played his romance so far so idk what exactly is exclusive and what isn't. i won't get started on all That though bc i have a whole other set of complaints about his romance

but he absolutely is de-centered in a lot of his own story, which is a huge shame because at the beginning it seemed like it was setting up to BE something. one of the first real convos you have with him at the lighthouse is about how he feels about suddenly being a caretaker and not just a bodyguard. his role has completely shifted from "stand guard while someone else parents the griffons" to "i'm the one who has to make sure assan is properly cared for." and then he applies that logic to assan and the griffons: "these animals live to fight - but i wonder if there's another path for them?" at which point you can say yeah, everyone can find a new path. but then they don't deliver on that For Him specifically, it's just always about the griffons

like it just feels like it wasn't tied together properly. because there is so much to examine wrt how he feels/acts after weisshaupt and how he's had his main purpose in life ripped away from him. and i think you're right in that it is often framed as A Grey Warden Thing but i also think that could've been, like... part of his issue, yk? because he says in one of his journals that basically he felt like he had to prove himself to his clan when he left and he acknowledges that he was being bullheaded and has since chosen to stay distant. so i think him not allowing himself to be The Hero so to speak could be attributed to him trying to make being a warden MEAN something. if that makes sense. it's just that there's no satisfying follow up to any of it because the writing cares primarily for assan/the griffons

he just has so much potential. obvs we've had warden stories before and it's nothing new that a lot of them feel like they have one singular purpose in life, but this is the only one where he tries to fulfill that purpose and fails. the HOF didn't fail because they knew they weren't going to die if they did the dark ritual. but davrin fully expects to die! and there's no weight to it! they bring up the fact that wardens die killing archdemons as party banter for christ's sake - i sat through the first part of weisshaupt going "so is anyone gonna talk about this, or ???" only for him to have like two lines about it that you as the player can't even choose how to respond to iirc. and then he finds a new purpose after weisshaupt where he wants to live because he sees a future for the first time, and that can still be taken away from him. but all anybody ever wants to talk about is oh poor assan!! if davrin dies so does he so i guess i'll save davrin so the poor little baby griffon doesn't die too! and it's like HELLO?? what are you people even talking about. there is so much potential in davrin and his life and thoughts and feelings and how he could be swayed more towards the wardens or the dalish in the exact same way the griffons are but he's consistently ignored by both the narrative and fans.

and actually i will circle back to the romance point in the first paragraph - i don't know if it's romance-specific but during the final check in at the lighthouse after the point of no return, you get this very brief convo:

DAVRIN: wonder what my old dalish clan would think if they could see me now. ROOK: no reason you can't visit them after this is over. DAVRIN: yeah. i could. DAVRIN: (chuckles) and i'd definitely bring assan.

and it's just, like. MADDENING to me. to me, it feels like there's no real moment where you get to further press on the "everyone can find a new path" dialogue and his "was i born a monster hunter, destined to do this job, or did i have a choice?" journal entry to actually dig into how he feels about what he feels like he should be doing. you can't help him through the internal struggle of his warden duties vs his dalish identity even though it is a DIRECT PARALLEL to what do to with the griffons. like i guess the subtext is that whatever you choose with the griffons is also you choosing what his future will be like but they don't SHOW that. his final line isn't even about him!! it's only about the griffons!!

i dunno man. i feel like an insane person sometimes because i don't know if maybe i'm missing something or misunderstanding or not remembering or whatever. it just doesn't feel like he got the respect the rest of the companions did with their personal quests and it sucks because you can see the glimmers of potential in his storyline and how perfectly he parallels the fate of the griffons. they just didn't spotlight him enough for it to feel like his issues were resolved imo. which is exactly what so many people were afraid of as promo material was coming out, and now here we are, having to deal with people saying the final choice is "harding vs assan" and ignoring davrin completely.

but anyway!!! that's all i have time for because my lunch break is over and my boss is already on my case. thanks for the ask and for letting me ramble though <3

[vykker]

Here's part 2 of this ask!

So in regards to baby Interns... What's tough is, when I try to guess what they're like, it leads me down rabbit holes speculating on what Intern society must be like in its non-Vykker-labs state & I get lost in the sauce. Also we have NO information to go off of. So this is 100 percent going off guesswork and vibes. I put it all under readmore because it got long sorry!

In one of the Discoddchats, Lorne was talking about Wolvarks [but lumped Interns in with them] and how their societal structure is different from what we've seen so far in Oddworld. He didn't elaborate beyond this. I'm guessing he means societal structures that do not have a queen at the top of the pyramid. So, I'm going to guess that Interns parallel Vykkers and are asexually reproducing hermaphrodites.

Unlike Vykkers though, I don't think Interns are mammals, simply because Vykkers have nipples and Interns don't. Thus, I postulate that Interns lay eggs. HOWEVER... I don't think they have a lot of real estate for eggs, physically speaking. Interns already have bulbous, taunt abdomens, like all of their organs are crammed into a tiny space. We know that some of this is due to their unhealthy lifestyles, but I find it hard to imagine even a 'skinny' intern. I think they're always bulbous like Cheesecake. Anyway, because of this, I think their eggs are very small- like no larger than their eyes. I think they're also soft-shelled like snake eggs and are only produced in very small quantities, maybe even just one at a time.

With this in mind- I headcanon that Interns are SUPER teeny tiny when they hatch and probably really gangly and bug-eyed and freaky. If you've ever seen baby preying mantises, that's what I'm picturing, looks and behavior and all. These are just some random concepts:

I also think they're 100 % self-reliant. Interns do not strike me as being maternal AT ALL. I have a hard time picturing the average Intern being a good parent. In the Art Book they're described as not giving AF about the Mudokon eggs. Just going off vibes here.

I think that in the wild, Interns frisbee their eggs into the woods or something and either they hatch or don't. If they do hatch, they're tiny and scrawny and immediately mobile. Like insects. Their first year of life is spent purely as animalistic predators. They scamper around on the forest floor and catch bugs, lizards, and other small prey, apex predators of a very small patch of forest. They consume massive amounts of protein and grow very quickly. Once they reach about a foot or two in height- no longer in danger of being stepped on- they instinctively seek out the nearest Intern tribe and integrate with them. They mimic the adult's behavior and pick up on their language and stuff from copying them.

From there we could have a lot of fun speculating on what tribe life must be like for them! And what sort of psychological ramifications come with spending your earliest years being feral in the woods.

As for how they end up in Vykker's Labs, I think there are "Intern Farms" which are companies owned by Vykkers Labs which contract out Interns for labs all across Mudos. Eggs are gathered up and kept in Intern Pens where the babies are fed crickets and cigarette butts until they're big enough to climb out. Once they do, they fall in a pit and are taken to a new area where they start Intern School. What goes on there? idk yet I haven't thought that far ahead

I think they get their foot surgery as soon as they start Intern School and probably spend a lot of time strapped into desks being forced to learn stuff like those bomb sniffing bees

As for how the Farms get the eggs, you know that stereotype about broke college kids being donors for $? I think its like that. I'm picturing a vending machine type deal where you put an egg in and $10 moolah falls out. Someone swings by to empty them once a week and they're sold to the farms for pennies. The rest end up in recycling because eggs are not permitted to go anywhere else. The vykkers don't want an unchecked population of them running around. Interns by nature are not sentimental and largely DO NOT care, but I'd imagine maybe a scant few feel kinda bad for perpetuating their species' shitty circumstance for beer money. Maybe they leave theirs in the Poop Chute? Most get squished but maybe a few would make it. I’m picturing a Mudokon tribe with one random intern now

Anyway I will stop! Thanks for the good question!! Kinda went off topic at the end but I love speculating on things like this lol

[beesmygod]

today is webcomics day. i am bea and i make "A Ghost Story" - part 3: sketch 1

ed note from the future: this got long. its going mostly under a readmore for everyone's sake. and i didnt even finish sketching, just trying to explain what is going through my mind while trying to sketch. look, if i write down my process in exhausting detail people will realize im completely insane. this is a net benefit to anyone trying to interact with me in the future who thinks i can be reasoned with. community service. thank you for allowing me to post this shit lol

hmmm. giving up on the first few panels for right now. here's what i'm thinking about as i sketch this:

too many of my panels were talking heads or constantly relied on one point perspective. i have been trying to work against this for a while with mixed results. sometimes the result is so bad i have to scrap what i did and start over but sometimes it's "good enough for TV"* and i hit publish on it. no risks, no reward after all. can't get better if you don't try.

in this first panel, i have two people having a back and forth conversation through a weird magic hole in the floor/wall. maxine is laying on a couch with hole right above her head. homestar runner will demonstrate what i mean:

however, there are logistical problems with maxine that homestar runner doesnt have. maxine's right shoulder is dislocated, so she can't lay on that side, or any side that would put pressure on the joint. im realizing i don't actually know what position would be most comfortable in her situation or how she would instinctually arrange her body to avoid pain. i start looking up videos from physical therapists on how they recommend patients sleep for some ideas.

also i start looking up what women look like sleeping on couches. how does the human body fold up. because this isn't it.

anyway, this was my first effort with the first panels.

for reference, the last page ends like this:

the top left of the sketch would have been the hopi clown back on the shelf with the "camera" tilting above it to reveal maxine. while this keeps the relevant object from the previous page in frame as a piece of connective tissue between updates....i'm struggling to fit the second character in. the one talking from the hole. maybe there's still hope for this? it's not terrible. initially i nuked it but maybe i can make this work.

fuck! she needs a pillow or two to make this work. this video is right, that DOES look naturally comfortable compared to the standard fetal position that would pull the affected shoulder inward. i didn't draw any pillows into the stupid establishing shot of the office bc its not the kind of couch you are expected to sleep on!!! this is a man's business office!!! i thought i was so smart!!

basically every couch comes with decorative pillows though, and the shot of the room didn't include the wall the "camera" was up against. my 2-point perspective failure might have paid off here lol. if i can establish that the second character is talking through the hole, he can use his rayman hands to reach across the room and get the pillow for her. it can be part of his personal campaign to show maxine he means her no immediate harm. the pillows were just out of frame. lurking. ok let's try it again. uhhhh after i eat some lunch

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*my friend kelly had an anecdote from working in animation that im going to retell badly from memory. her boss would take the work she labored over to meet by deadline and would laugh at it, saying "ah, its terrible! but good enough for TV". and while extremely mean, he had a salient point: it never has to be perfect. it just needs to be good enough to be seen. sometimes i seriously think about this anecdote when im dissatisfied with my own art. it's bad. but it's good enough for tv.