#i feel like i may be on the list too but....

[treatmelikeasmut]

The Artist and the Engineer//Part 3 Pose Reference

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Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader

Series Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.

Chapter Synopsis: Viktor and the artist are back for their second session. He's being far more cooperative this time. But it seems the artist may have something to hide.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I'm still debating how I want to flip-flop between Viktor and reader. If it's going to be every other chapter, or if it's just going to be however the flow feels right.

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~*~*~

You were late.

Super, incredibly late.

You’d gotten in the zone; playing music, working on a commissioned painting. You’d completely lost track of time. It was so easy for it to slip away like that. When you finally decided to take a break, the clock on the wall read five after two. Your apartment was ten minutes from campus if you ran like your life depended on it.

People clogged up the roads and sidewalks, which definitely didn’t help your situation. Some people yelled after you as you shoved through the crowd. You knew all too well the consequences of being late to appointments. You were just glad the spring thaw had finally seemed to be staying. The breeze no longer held its icy bite.

Still, sweat trickled down your spine as you finally made your way through the entry arch of the academy. You paused briefly, shielding your eyes as they hunted for the clock tower. It read 20 after. Cursing under your breath, you hustled towards the main door.

Standing just outside was a familiar face, Fallon, one of your friends who was still working through her undergraduate studies. Usually recognizable by her sizable stack of long, dark curls. She smiled, waving as she called you over. You returned the greeting.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you rushed.

“I just got out of of class, I have a before hours before my next one starts. You want to get lunch?”

“I would, but I have an appointment to keep and I’m running super behind!” You were already halfway through the door. “I’m so sorry, I swear, we’ll catch up soon! I’ll see you later"!”

Fallon called something after you, but it was lost when the door shut. You speed walked down the main corridor, and then turned into the hall that would take you towards the art wing. When you were sure there was no one around, you broke into a jog. You knew Heimerdinger’s assistant didn’t want to be doing this as it was. Being late was not going to help your case any.

Taking a moment, you caught your breath and wiped your sweaty forehead with a clean rag. You could only hope you weren’t too disheveled. Regardless of the paint stains on your clothes, you still had to appear somewhat professional. Running in soaked with sweat and panting was not the way to do that.

You were surprised to see Viktor already in the studio. Well at home on the chaise and deeply engrossed in his book. His long legs were stretched across the cushion, one cross over the other. He didn’t look up as you shuffled passed.

“You’re late,” Viktor observed, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” you panted, “Sorry - give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

You hurried into the side room, and barely caught his words, “Take your time.”

In the side room, there was a wall of cubies. Each about as wide as your wing span and stretched about a foot over your head. They all had a wide shelf at the top and drawer in the bottom. Some of them were filled to the brim with covered canvases, others held only a sketch pad or an easel, most of them were empty. You were grateful the academy even had a reserved space for alumni artists. Not everyone had the space or the money to have a studio. You had a small corner where you kept your easel and paints in your own apartment. The entrance to your balcony was there, so it offered the best light. Just not the best view, since it over looked one of Piltover’s side roads.

You made your way to the one with a scrap of paper reading your name that had been stapled to the wooden surface. Tossing your bag into the bottom drawer, you dragged out your sketch pad, along with the pouch that held erasers, pencils, and a sharpener. Quickly double checking that no sticky fingers had made off with your extra supplies. Double counted your rolls of paper. Made sure your spare easel and the canvas you’d be using was all accounted for. That canvas was going to need prepped soon. That mental note got tacked to the back of your mind.

“Alright!” you sighed loudly, rounding back into the main studio. “Are we ready to start?”

Viktor looked up at you then, slotting a place holder into his book. His sharp eyes didn’t miss a beat, immediately zeroing in on your non-dominate hand. Narrowing as he studied it.

“Rough day yesterday?” he asked plainly.

You glanced down at the splint bound to your hand with white cloth. It held your ring finger and pinky straight. In the back of your mind, you could still hear the sickening sound of them breaking. Hastily, you shoved your hand in the big pocket of your overalls. You tried very hard not to wince at the pain.

“Something like that,” you told him. You tried to laugh, but it came out strained.

Viktor continued to watch you, as if he were waiting for you to elaborate. It left you feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope. When you offered nothing he opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Finally, his gaze moved elsewhere.

It didn’t keep the shadows of the Alumni Studio from being oppressive, however. They sat heavy on your shoulder. Squeezed your lungs far too tightly. Making you itch for more than the dusty light coming in the high windows.

“Would you be too terribly opposed to sitting outside today?” you asked, then gestured behind you. “There’s a door not far that takes us to one of the inner court yards. It’s nice enough today.”

“Wherever you will have me.” Viktor shrugged, bringing his gaze back to you. Then he seemed to realize just how his wording came out. Clearing his throat, his ears reddened. Quickly, he corrected, “That is, wherever you wish me to sit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was kind of cute when he was embarrassed. You swiftly erased that thought. “This way.”

Viktor trailed after you as you lead him out the side door and into another long hall lined on one side with windows. It was quiet between you, just the clink of his cane on the floor to let you know he hadn’t run off. A chill chased from the nape of your neck down your spine.

Finally, you came across the door to the court yard. The entire thing was relatively bare. Just a large circle carved from the same white stone as the rest of the building. There were a few low benches with arms, along with a sprinkle of large basins full of shrubs and moss. A couple trees grew from well maintained raised beds. You lead Viktor to your favorite one.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a bench backed by neat bushes.

Viktor sat, then you went to the edge of the low planter wall opposite him. You were both covered by the shade of a tall tree. It was just starting to sprout lively green leaves. You flipped to a new page in the pad. Then rifled through your pouch until your found your favorite pencil.

“I thought we would figure out your pose today,” you said, tapping the end of the pencil against the paper.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “My pose?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I want to do sketches of potential ones. It’ll help us figure out what will look best. - We also have to consider how comfortable it will be for you. I know what I’m thinking of, but did you have anything in mind?”

“I wouldn’t know -” Viktor awkwardly folded his hands in his lap.

“Try this.” You laughed a little, then moved to the edge of the wall, setting your stuff beside you. You adjusted your posture to be ramrod straight, your body set at an angle with your hands at waist height, cradling air. “Obviously you’ll be holding your book.”

Viktor tried his best to mirror your posture. Glancing at you, eyes flickering over your body. You knew it could be awkward. It was never easy posing people, it often felt too staged.

“Like this?” he asked.

You relaxed, taking a moment to check. Your mind was already doing a preliminary painting. But something wasn’t quite right. You stood, going to him.

��Almost, do you mind if I - ?”

Viktor looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, no - go right ahead.”

You nodded, then carefully covered the backs of his hands with your own palms. Applying just enough pressure with your fingers to guide him. His hands were smooth and chilled under your touch. You pulled the book a bit farther away from his chest, giving the pose some breathing room. “Hold that there. - Now this is going to feel unnatural, but I’m going to adjust your elbow. Now tilt the book itself back a little bit. We need a nice silhouette.”

You stepped away, looking him over one more time. Still just almost. You hummed, tapping a finger on your chin with the other resting on your hip. Viktor pursed his lips as you took his chin between the knuckle of your forefinger and your thumb. Guiding it to where it needed to be to follow the lines of his body.

“Now turn your hips out just a bit more,” you uttered. He followed suit without a word.

Once more, you stepped away to check composition. Perfect, except for his expression. His brows were furrowed as he stared very intensely at the pages. Without thinking, you placed your thumb between his brows. Trying to get him to relax. You’d done this before, many times, trying to get people’s expressions just right. You felt him go still under your touch, but the creased immediately went away in his surprise.

“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away. “I should’ve asked if it was fine to touch your face.”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor muttered, glancing at your very briefly. “You simply me caught me by surprise. That is all.”

You were surprised that he was being far more cooperative today. You wondered what had changed in the last two days. Maybe Heimerdinger had said something. As long as it wasn’t about your deal, you’d be fine with whatever he had to say to get Viktor to sit until the portrait was complete. You needed this. Desperately.

“Hold this pose for a minute.”

You returned to your seat, pulling the drawing pad into your lap. You did a quick gesture drawing. Getting the lines right, carving out the silhouette with the side of your pencil. A few places needed smudged with the pad of your finger, blending until it felt right. You saw his hands begin to shake.

“Okay, you can relax,” you told him.

Viktor’s entire body slumped, then he stretched with his arms over his head. You had to admit, he was nice to look at. Long and lithe, the light carved out his features in a way you hoped you could recreate and highlighted the warm undertones in his hair. You looked back down at your sketch. You definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when you told Heimerdinger Viktor had nice features that you couldn’t wait to put on canvas. You laughed to yourself, thinking of your conversation with the professor.

“What is so funny?” Viktor asked lightly. “I most certainly hope my posing wasn’t that horrid.”

You looked up, surprised to see him bent slightly over you. Eyes on what you’d drawn. The intensity of them almost made you bashful about your work.

You shook your head. “Not you, just thinking of something I’d told Heimerdinger.”

Viktor hummed. “Nothing too awful, I hope.”

You chuckled again. “Only that I was glad you didn’t have fur.”

“Really?” Viktor asked, clearly amused.

“It took much longer to paint him because of it. He got a good laugh out of it, though.” You shrugged. “I forgot to ask - how was your day yesterday?”

Viktor straightened up, leaning on his cane. You would have to remember to sketch it. It was a nice cane, finely crafted. You wanted to make sure you got it right when you painted it.

“Eehhh…” Viktor’s eyes bounced as he searched for the right word. “Productive.”

You smiled at him. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to get too behind in your work.”

“Worry not, my partner is seeing to things in my absence.” Viktor hovered, hand readjusting on his cane. His gaze had settled on the branches over head. “I also had some time to reflect. I want to apologize for my behavior - I must not have made a good first impression.”

“It’s fine, really. I know how Heimerdinger can be. I thought he told you. I can’t really blame you for acting the way you did. So, no apology needed.” You stood, if only for something to do.

“Then let us begin anew. On the proper foot, this time.” He held out his hand. “I am Viktor, assistant to the Dean of the Academy and Hextech researcher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You found the effort endearing. You took his hand in yours, shaking it as you reintroduced yourself. “Recent University of Piltover graduate. Semi-professional in portraiture. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I look forward to painting you, I’m very glad that you are not furry.”

Viktor gave you a real smile this time. It was nice to see. It suited him, opened up his face. Making you feel warm inside. You tried to shut that feeling down immediately. But you couldn’t help admiring the boyish charm in it.

“Now, shall we continue?” he asked.

You nodded towards the bench. “Be my guest.”

You walked him through a few more poses. A couple were an immediate ‘no.’ Either they just didn’t look natural on him, or he said it would be too difficult to maintain for long periods. By the end of it, you had settled for something simple. He would sit reclined against the back cushion, one arm resting on the arm of the lounge, the other holding his book. His legs would be crossed, with his left ankle resting on his right knee. Carefully keeping his brace from digging into his skin.

You considered this session a success.

When the clock announced three, you stood to stretch out your back. You were expecting Viktor to take his leave like a rabbit sprung from a trap. Instead, he sat and observed as you began to pack your things.

“Well, that’s the hour,” you announced. Wondering if he was waiting for a proper dismissal. “I figure I won’t keep you longer, I was the one who was late after all.”

“Actually,” started Viktor, “I find I have some spare time. I can stay another hour, if it’s needed.”

You paused. “Are you sure? You don't have to do that.”

He nodded. “Jayce can suffice another hour without me.”

“Alright then.” You couldn’t help but grin. “Since we've figured out your pose, I was wondering if it was okay to sketch your cane?”

Viktor glanced at where it laid next to him on the bench. “My cane?”

“For the painting.”

His expression was unreadable. “You want to include it?”

“Yes?” You cocked your head. “Why wouldn't I? Unless you don’t want it to be? - It’s your picture, at the end of the day. Heimerdinger is just sponsoring it. We don’t have to include anything you don’t want..”

“I -” Viktor frowned a touch, as if the idea had never occurred to him. He sighed. “That is perfectly fine.”

You sat on the ground in front of the bench. Viktor held the cane upright, turning it when you asked. You made little notes about colors, and where it was dullest from being held. All while being under his sharp gaze. You wondered what he was thinking. If he resented you at all, even though you were just hired to do a job.

“So…” Viktor cleared his throat. “Your fingers - what happened?”

Your whole body went rigid, freezing mid-sketch. You carefully avoided his eyes. Shaking your head, your forced yourself to keep drawing. “Nothing. I was clumsy. Tripped, landed on my hand wrong.”

A moment of silence, then a small hum. “At least it was not your other one.”

You muttered to the paper, “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you stated louder, “will you tilt that to right a bit?”

Viktor obliged, though the movement was hesitant. You studied the cane intently. Trying not to meet his eyes. He had to know you were lying. That excuse hadn’t even sounded convincing to you. A few more minutes ticked by in silence.

“Tell me,” Viktor started again, “do you have a preference for coffee or tea?”

That one did make you look up. He ran a finger along the rail of the stone bench, watching you from the corner of his eye. The amber of them burning in a patch of sun. You told him your preference, to which he hummed. You searched your mind for something to ask him.

“So,” you started, “what all do you do for Heimerdinger?”

“Many things.” Viktor shrugged, as if it was the most uninteresting question in the world. “I do anything he asks.”

“I’ve heard you and Jayce Talis are the founders of Hextech. All the revolutionary stuff that’s appeared the last few years has been because of you. Is that true?”

Slowly, Viktor nodded. “He took the first steps, then together we built.”

“Then it’s no wonder that Heimerdinger wants your portrait done,” you started, a bit awestruck. “It’s not everyday this sort of thing comes along. - We’ll have to include something of it in your painting. Make sure everyone knows your face, too.”

“Right.” Viktor shifted in his seat. You pretended not to notice the pink blotches staining his neck. “Ah - I’m not well versed in art. Out of curiosity, how long does this sort of thing usually take? Professor Heimerdinger said this could take months, but surely not…”

“It could - it took me most of the four year graduate program to paint Professor Heimerdinger. The third and fourth year especially since I had to make a presentation to go along with it, but it was also hard to meet with him. Yours shouldn’t take nearly as long,” you told him. Your eyes traced the curves on the cane’s handle, your hand trying to follow along on the paper. “If I can focus, a painting this size takes…80 or 90 hours to complete. That isn’t including color matching and sketching, which could take it well over 100 -”

“100 hours?” Viktor repeated, jaw tight. Any openness that was once there now gone. “That is nearly four months of my time. More if one of us is not available!”

You nodded slowly. “I can try and speed up the process, but there’s no promises with this sort of thing. Some of it, I may not even need you there for.”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “No, no - it’s fine. I will just have to accommodate accordingly.”

Your name echoed across the courtyard then and you both flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught sight of Fallon. How had she even seen you? That ever present smile was on her face. She waved, curls bouncing as she jogged over to you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she laughed. Her eyes turned to Viktor. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not really a friend, more of an acquiantance. This is Viktor, the Dean’s assistant,” you said, “I’ve been commissioned. Sorry - Viktor, this is my good friend Fallon. She’s in her second year of her undergraduate studies.”

He nodded at her. “A pleasure.”

Fallon gasped, gripping your bad hand by the wrist. You hissed softly at the pain, grimacing. She turned your hand palm up, then back over.

“What did you do?” In a second the sweet Fallon was gone, a dark cloud sweeping over her features. She asked in a low voice, “He didn’t do this, did he?”

You tried to pull your wrist away, laughing awkwardly. “No, no, no - nothing like that. This is my own fault. Viktor is…sweet. He’s been very patient with me today.”

Just as quick as it appeared, the storm cloud passed and Fallon was back to her grinning self. Her gold skin practically glowed under the late afternoon sun. The light threading through her dark curls to highlight the red understones. Her eyes danced briefly over your face, then narrowed.

“I know how you can get,” Fallon scolded, releasing your wrist. “Have you eaten today?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly. She put her hands on her hips, foot tapping against the stones. You gave her sheepish smile. “I got in late then was up early. I had some work to do.”

Fallon flicked your forehead. “How many times have I told you -”

“Yes, I know - take care of myself.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve just…been busy.”

“You are never too busy to care for yourself. - I’ve decided I’m taking you to lunch.” Fallon pulled your arm, hauling you off the ground. Small but mighty, it seemed. “C’mon -”

“But I have to -” you argued, barely keeping a grip on your pencil and pad as you stumbled after her. “Uh - I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Viktor!”

You glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. That sent a wave of embarrassment through you. You had the strongest urge to stick out your tongue or flick him off. But you didn’t. Just allowing yourself to be pulled out the door, barely being able to waylay her long enough to put your things away and grab your bag.

Fallon found a resturant close to academy for you both. The entire time she gave you a scathing review of your poor habits. But you knew it came from a place of concern. You’d done the same for her a few times. Especially around midterms and finals.

“So, anyway,” Fallon said, the stern tone fading. A mischievous grin took over. “That guy, huh?”

“Viktor?” you asked, taking a bite of your food. “What about him?”

“He was a cutie, wasn’t he?”

“Okay, first off - he’s way too old for you.” You rolled your eyes. Fallon had been unstoppable since she started at the academy. Constantly chasing one guy after the next. “You’re not even twenty yet. He’s like, 26 or 27.”

“As if that would stop me. Besides - I wasn’t thinking about me…” Fallon chuckled. Then licked her finger and rubbed at your cheek. “Hey, did anyone tell you there’s graphite on your face.”

You looked down at where your shiney, grey fingers held your fork. Then scrubbed at your cheek with your shirt sleeve. “Secondly, I haven’t really thought about it.”

She hummed, eyebrows raising briefly. “Liar.”

“I’m not!” You truly hadn’t, whether she believed you or not. “His has some nice lines. His eyes are a nice color -”

“So you’ve just been looking at him like an art project.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your face felt hot, so you swallowed down some ice water. “I can objectively observe someone’s beauty, ya know. You literally have to take an entire class about it.”

“All I’m saying,” Fallon pushed, “is that maybe you should stop looking at him as just a subject.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You’re trying to set me up, and you don’t even know him.”

She held her palms up. “There’s more to life than work, that’s all I’m saying. And if you just happen to be able to be in the presence of a cute guy who’s stuck with you until the commission is done…”

“I don't want to make our sessions weird. Also, I already told you that I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

Fallon pouted. “But why?! There are so many cuties on campus. You’re just going to ignore them all?”

“I -” There were so many things you wanted to tell her. So many things that were safer if you didn’t. You just wished you at least one person to confide in. “I’m just not looking. I’m so busy with commissions and making sure that I can pay rent. It just wouldn’t be fair to try and balance a relationship. I wouldn’t be able to dedicate enough time. It would end badly. So it’s better off that I don’t.”

Fallon’s gold eyes watched you. They reminded you of Viktor’s a bit, but hers were missing the honey tones. Either way, they didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“You’re hiding something,” she said plainly, “what is it?”

You shook your head. “I’m not involving anyone in my life drama.”

“I’m your friend, you can trust me. I want to help if I can.”

“I know exactly the kind of help I need. - Trust me, I’m already dealing with it.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Fallon reached over and touched your arm, staring at you with nauseatingly intense sincerity.

Finally, you sighed, leaned forward in the booth - and whispered to her the whole dirty truth.

____________________________________________________

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[the-stellaron-hunters]

things you said prompt list

Aventurine

things you said over the phone

Aventurine figured you would call.

It’s definitely because of the gift that he sent your way. He is fully expecting you to ask him what’s with the sudden goodwill coming from him, and he has a response prepared in case that happens — something casual enough that you might believe that everything is still alright between the both of you, convenient enough that you may not ask him any other questions. But that doesn’t mean he has full control of how he truly feels, and that certainly doesn’t mean he has a handle of how the rest of the conversation goes, at least not when the both of you haven’t talked properly in months.

This would be far easier to deal with if you were both at fault. The problem with Aventurine is that he gets attached to someone, and he has a habit of showering them with all the attention he could give, and suddenly he feels too vulnerable and he needs to put his guard up and he’s gone and it’s as if he is out of their life, and just when there’s this reasonable assumption that he has completely cut ties, he is back again like nothing happened, and he does it again and again and again.

And this is not the first time he’s done this to you. It’s probably not the last time, either. Meanwhile you update him every now and then about what’s going on in your life, mostly in the form of texts, sometimes in handwritten letters when you feel like it. And there are a lot of times when he would just never answer, and you never seem to point it out even when your message logs become one-sided.

Aventurine answers your call and you both exchange pleasantries. He talks about anything and you talk about everything — how are you doing, I’ve missed you, I hope you are well. And for a while it feels like all is right in the world and everything is back to what you both used to be. But it doesn’t last long because after a while you fall quiet, and then he inevitably goes silent, and then he is dreading what comes next because he has an inkling of what you’re about to bring up, and for all the time he has contemplated what he did, he’s still not sure how to handle it.

You break the silence.

“…So.”

“So.”

“We haven’t talked in a while.”

Regret stabs in his chest and his breath splits into two. He feels his mouth twist as he tries to come up with something to say, but you don’t even give him enough time to think of a response.

“Hey, I’m not angry. You do know that I never hold it against you, right? I mean, you always do this with everyone. Not just me. I’m used to it.”

And you say that like you’re worried that he is going to hate you if you accidentally push one of his buttons, too cautious of what lines to cross even though you’ve both never really talked about boundaries. You say he does this to everyone and you’re not wrong. Everyone has grown used to it so he thought the more he did the same thing to you, the easier it would get.

The problem is you’re not everyone else. 

That’s the worst part. He knows you meant every word you just said. The bigger, more realistic part of him thinks that he should be grateful you’ve grown used to his habits, but the small, battered, vulnerable part of him thinks that you deserve better than this. He thinks you should be angrier, that you should hold it against him. Maybe he might keep doing the same thing to other people because he needs to protect himself, but that shouldn’t apply to you.

He is not about to tell you all that, though. Not when he’s not completely certain of how you feel about him anymore, and especially not when he has never given you a good reason to expect more than what he has shown you. So he gathers all those thoughts together and he ties them into a neat bow, hoping he doesn’t have to unpack it anytime soon. “Of course I know that. I appreciate it as always.”

“And I haven’t opened your gift yet,” you say. He couldn’t tell if you’re changing the topic on purpose, but the excited lilt in your voice says otherwise. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but it’s not my birthday. What’s the occasion? What made you want to give this to me?”

I just didn’t know how to approach you again after ignoring you for so long, Aventurine thinks to himself. He expected you to ask that, but it doesn’t make the conversation any easier. He hasn’t forgotten all the excuses he has come up with, but they no longer feel right. Because I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it if I tried to call you and you never picked up. It’s far easier to give you things that you might like than to start a conversation just to see how you’re doing. “I saw it and I thought you would like it,” he settles on saying instead, “so I thought to myself, why not send you a gift? I’ve been busy, after all. It’s the least I could do.”

You hum. “Huh. I thought this was a peace offering after ignoring me all this time. You know. Like usual.”

Your tone is light and your words are teasing. You want him to not take your words seriously, but the truth in your words is too heavy to ignore. “It could be,” he tries to say it like he’s fooling around as much as you are, ignoring the way the words burn in his throat. “Why, did you want it to be one?”

You fall very, very, quiet. There’s something contemplative, something pained in your silence that he can’t quite pin down.

“Maybe I do.”

Your voice is tinged with an emotion that’s difficult to judge. And he would’ve dwelled on that if he could, but maybe you didn’t want him to have the upper hand in the conversation because you immediately change topics; you open the gift and you tell him you like it, he says he’s glad, and you both continue talking like nothing happened.

As soon as the phone call ends, Aventurine receives a text from you, a simple thank you with an image of the scenery in your place attached to the message. As he snaps a picture of the sundusk through his window, he thinks about the hope and uncertainty and the faintest spark of expectation in your voice. He doesn’t know how he is going to do it — he is going to worry about the consequences later — but he needs to find a way to free up his schedule in a short notice.

[yuurei20]

alright, I feel like letting this consume my mind for a really good while so... is there a list or something with all the content that's out? I know there's manga, novels, 4-koma, anthology,, but I'm not sure about all the events of the game besides the main story.

I'll search for fan translations myself but there's too many content and I'm a little lost where to start jsjskd I need a little help to know how many things are of and also, I have another question: where do you all know when there's something coming out, like new manga chapter or a 4-koma one? any updates page I should know of? I'll follow any recommended blogs of translations if you have any more.

and I'm really sorry I know it's a lot 😭

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🐦‍⬛

By "content" do you mean the supplemental media, like manga and novels? 👀 You then mention "all the events of the game" so maybe an event list would be better? Or past real-life events, like cafes and concerts?

Here is a list of all these things just in case :D

Supplemental Media List (stories) ・Manga: Episode of Heartslabyul, volumes 1-4, complete The prologue and Book 1 of the Main Story (game) ・Manga: Episode of Savanaclaw, volumes 1-2, ongoing Book 2 of the Main Story (game) ・Manga: Episode of Octavinelle, volumes -1-2, ongoing Book 3 of the Main Story (game) ・Manga: Episode of Scarabia, volume 1, ongoing Book 4 of the Main Story (game) ・Manga: Anthologies, volumes 1-2, complete? Slice-of-life stories independent of the game/game's creators ・Novel: Episode 1, the Rose-Red Tyrant, complete ・Novel: Episode 2, the Usurper of the Wilds, complete (JP only) ・Comic: 4koma, ongoing Slice-of-life stories independent of the game/game's creators

Supplemental Media List (guides/artbooks/etc. Complete? Ongoing? Mysterious) ・Magical Archives Game Guide volumes 1-2 ・Twisted Wonderland Official Fanbook volumes 1-3 ・Visual Book volumes 1-4 ・Design Note ・Twisted Wonderland Art Gallery, volumes 1-2

Event List (non-Main Story), this chart is updated and shared every month and might not be what you are looking for but just in case here is an order of release of all events to both servers, from launch! (does not include reruns)

Real-Life Event List (does not include pop-up shops) ・2021/10/1 - 2021/11/29: Disney Ambassador Hotel Special Room ・2022/3/7 - 2023/9/17: Twisted Wonderland Exhibition ・2022/10/7 - 2022/12/11: Cafe, Scary Monsters ・2022/9/30 - 2022/10/27: School Uniform Exhibition (by Cosplay Essentials) ・2023/8/20: Twisted Wonderland Fes ・2023/10/26 - 2023/12/17: Cafe, Disney 100 ・2024/9/6 - 2024/11/24: Cafe, Glorious Masquerade & Playfulland ・2025/6/24 - TBD: Special Course at Empire Grill ・2025/10/11 - 2025/10/13: 3D Magical Live -Blazing Jewel-

Manga Chapter Release Information Episode of Savanaclaw/Octavinelle/4koma, Monthly on the 18th

New chapters of the Savanaclaw/Octavinelle manga and 4koma are published in G-Fantasy magazine on the 18th of the month (or the 17th when the 18th is a Sunday) 🥳

The Savanaclaw manga and the Octavinelle manga have recently been publishing in an every-other-month schedule in G-Fantasy, but this is not always consistent.

For example, Octavinelle's newest chapter was released a few days ago and the next update has been announced for the June 18th, while Savanaclaw's newest chapter was released in March and the next update has been announced for July, with the added information that it was meant to release in May but it is taking a month off, so maybe only 4koma in May?

This information is from the most recent chapters in each. On the last page of new chapters they always write when it is that the next chapter will be coming 📅

(note: new chapters are counted one month in advance, so the May-release issue is called the "June" issue, the June-release issue is called the "July" issue, etc.)

[ghoulishhx]

PLEASEEEE #5 from the smut list PLEASE im begging. i'm going thru a lot of intense therapy that makes me delve into a lot of my childhood sexual trauma and i have taken up the habit of having compassion for myself (because that's the hardest part) through Frank as silly as that is.

I feel like he's already so attentive and worshipful but like...with a reader who has such a complex relationship with her body that goes past insecurity...idk but i know you'd write it well

5.) body worship

hi my love!! i wanna apologise for this taking me so damn LONG. i started it in my drafts, and i didn't look at my drafts for a couple weeks and here we are. i hope you enjoy this!! i hope you were ok with me making reader plus!size, this request went hand in hand with another one from my wife @carbonfiction so i thought i may as well combine the two! ok ily enjoy!!

MDNI 18+

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x PlusSize!Reader

Contents: SMUTTT!!! very fluffy too, mirror sex, frank talks you through touching yourself, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl please ty), squirting, praise, talking you through it, reader isn't comfortable in her own body, brief oral (F recieving)

Wordcount: 2.2k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ pretty girl

“Babygirl, where are ya?” you hardly hear the lock to your shared apartment being turned, the sound of Frank’s heavy combat boots against the hardwood floor as he approaches your bedroom distant. “There ya are- well fuck me, doll.. ‘S that new?”

Your boyfriend's jaw drops to the floor in a comical fashion at the sight of you. He instantly thought the worst when you didn’t respond to him calling for you as he came home, now he can see how wrong he was. His eyes practically bulge out of his skull as his gaze drags along your barely clothed body, trying on a new set of lingerie. The swell of your large breasts poking over the (slightly too small) thin lace brassiere, a dainty bow resting above the underwire between your tits, paired with a high waisted pair of panties. The view of you from the side instantly rushes blood to his cock, making him impossibly hard from what he’s seeing. The panties accentuate the plush skin of your hips and ass, your love-handles poking out alluringly from the bottom as the fabric clings onto your backside, deliciously enunciating the curves and leaving not much to the imagination. The icing on the cake, above your underwear sits a garter belt, hoisting sheer mesh stockings that sit perfectly around the plush of your thighs. Frank’s surprised he hasn’t come in his jeans already just from the sight.

“Oh hi Frankie, I didn’t hear you come in.” you softly speak, turning to him, blushing at the way he’s looking at you. “Do you like it? I got it today, but I’m not sure..”

“Like it? Shit baby you look fuckin’ gorgeous..” he can’t help but reach out and touch you, shuddering at the feel of the soft fabric against his calloused fingers, gripping slightly at your skin as he traces his hands all over you, toying with the material, stopping at the dips in your hips. “What is there to be not sure about, doll?” 

“Hmm I don’t know, don’t ya think it makes me look.. I dunno.. Big..?” your face flushes as you timidly squeak out your query, feeling so bare and vulnerable in front of Frank. He’s seen every inch of you naked many times by now, but this feels like a whole other territory. 

“Sweetheart..” he begins as he slips himself behind you, hugging tightly around your stomach as you both face the large mirror in front of your bed, you can’t help but gasp at the feeling of his arousal poking into your back. “Too big? You're kiddin’ me right baby? You're just damn right. Damn beautiful..” 

“Frankie..”

“Shh baby.. You look so fuckin’ pretty. Tell me, tell me ‘I’m pretty’ sweet girl.” he whispers into your ear as he begins kissing behind it, trailing down your neck eliciting small moans from you as he tastes and sucks marks into the sensitive skin.

“Frank.. I-I can’t..” you whine, bucking your hips into his crotch, your desperation apparent. He halts the assault on your neck as he grabs your wrist, pulling your arm behind your back and placing your soft hand on his bulge. Fuck was he hard, he felt so hard in your palm you were sure it probably hurt.

"You’re lyin’ to y'self sweetheart. Prettiest fuckin' thing I’ve ever seen.. See what ya do to me? Huh? Feel that?" he starts rubbing your hand up and down his clothed length. His breathing deepens, growling into your ear from the touch of your hand. “All from lookin’ at ya pretty girl, ya drive me insane.”

He spins you around to face him as he captures you in a bruising kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth as you swirl your own against his. Your free hand grasps the side of his face, pulling him closer into the kiss as you touch him through the rough denim with your other hand. Frank’s hands rest on your lower back, moving them downwards to your ass as he deepens the kiss, grabbing at the plush skin, kneading the fleshy dough. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as you rub his cock, needing more of him. He picks up on your neediness, spinning you back around to face the mirror.

“F-Frankie? What are yo-”

“Want ya to show me somethin’, okay? Want ya to show me how pretty you are when ya touch yourself f’me.” His tone is unwavering as he lowers you both to the ground, sitting you in between his large thighs as he rubs his hands up and down your own. “That okay with you, pretty girl?” You desperately nod, your need consuming you.

“Attagirl doll, make y’self feel as good as you look.” He hums appreciatively as you pull your drenched panties to the side, slipping a finger over your slick core, accumulating your wetness as you begin delicately toying with your clit. The view of yourself spread out in front of you makes you bite your lip, looking away as your skin flushes, feeling embarrassed to be witnessing yourself so lewdly.

“No way sweetheart, eyes forward okay?” he firmly grips your jaw, forcing you back face to face with your reflection, catching his own lust blown eyes in the process. “Want ya to see how pretty you look. No shyin’ away.” he tilts your head as he peppers kisses along your jawline. You mewl from the pleasure, eyes on your dripping centre, your flushed chest as your breasts heave with each breath, Frank’s light touches all over your body as he grips at your chest, squeezing and tugging at your pebbled nipples.

“That’s my girl, shit you look so good. Ya feelin’ good doll?” he groans as he runs his hands down your body, stopping at your soft stomach, rubbing comforting circles into the skin.

“Mhm Frankie.. S-so good.. Need you though, please..” you whine as you push your back against his firm chest, reaching behind you to grab at his hair as you meet his eyeline, needing him more than you ever have before.

“You’ll have me soon enough sweet girl, wanna watch ya fall apart f’me first, okay? You’re close, I know you are.” his lips return to your neck, licking stripes along the skin under your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Your pace quickens as you flick at your throbbing clit, thighs trembling from the pleasure as your arousal drips down from your hole to the wooden floor beneath you. His hands move down to your legs, holding them firmly, stabilising you as ecstasy begins to take over you. He can’t help but move his fingers towards your entrance subconsciously, needing to feel you come undone around his digits. You welcome his fingers and sigh at the relief as your gummy walls clench around him.

“Fuck Frank.. I-I’m coming.. Shit” you whimper as your orgasm consumes you. Your hips jerk violently from the sensation, your moans of his name and curse words interrupted by broken sobs as you gush around yours and Frank’s fingers, arousal coating the mirror before you.

“Good fuckin’ girl baby, makin’ such a mess just from watchin’ y’self. That’s it doll, so proud of ya.” he continues fucking you with his hand, selfishly obsessed with the way you writhe from overstimulation. You’re completely sexdrunk, a babbling mess as you whine from his touch. He reluctantly pulls his drenched fingers from your hole as he places them into your mouth. You greedily suck them dry, swirling your tongue as you lap up your juices. You can feel his cock twitch on your back from the action, the hardness even more apparent. 

“I need you Frank.. Please..” you turn around to him as you straddle his legs, pawing at his chest as you grind your soaked hips onto his lap, drowning his jeans.

“Tell me that you think you're pretty, baby, ‘n I’ll give ya what ya want.” he whispers, reaching to your face and brushing the stray hairs behind your ear.

“W-what? Why do I have to-”

“Two simple words, doll, that’s it. Then you can have me.” his eyes bare into you as you flush even more under his gaze. He notices your hesitation, your refusal to say those words. 

“You’re tellin’ me ya still don’t think you’re pretty after watchin’ what I just saw, huh? Shit doll I think we gotta get those eyes tested.” he moves from beneath you, as if to stand up. You grasp at his clothes, holding him in place.

“I’m pretty, Frank. I’m really.. fucking pretty.” you whisper so softly between gritted teeth, the words almost silent as you close your eyes tight. The room falls quiet for a few moments as you peek at him through your eyelids. His face is covered by his iconic, cocky shit-eating grin. You open your eyes fully and smile back as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Damn fuckin’ right, my pretty girl.” he raises you both to your feet as he reaches below your ass, picking you up, instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist as he consumes you with another intense kiss. He places you down on the bed behind you both on your back, as he begins stripping his clothes (fucking finally, you thought.) You spread your legs in front of you, smiling up at him as he begins slowly pumping his cock above you, eyes locked onto your body. Typically you’d shy away from such an action, but tonight you truly felt as beautiful as he told you you were. 

Frank dips his head down to your chest, placing kisses across your breasts, licking stripes along every bit of skin shown to him as he kneels down face to face with your core. 

“Lookin’ like a fuckin’ dream baby, gotta taste ya real quick, alright?” you gasp as he begins devouring you, gripping your thighs with his hands as he pulls them into the side of his head, taking your spent clit between his lips as he suckles on the bundle of nerves. He moves his tongue lower to your entrance, fucking you with his muscle. “Taste like a fuckin’ dream too.. Shit..”

You wrap your fingers in his hair, tangling the strands as you grind your hips into his face.

“Needy fuckin’ girl, ain’t ya?” he coos, the vibrations making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I can’t wait anymore to feel ya.” he pulls his face from your cunt and slams his lips onto yours. The heady taste of him and your arousal makes your head spin as you clench around nothing, aching for him inside of you.

He doesn’t waste anymore time as he rubs the head of his cock along your folds, accumulating your slick as lubricant as he pushes himself inside of you. His thickness always shocks you as he splits you in half with his length. You whine as he sheathes himself fully inside of you, filling you to the brim with his sex. His head instantly touches your cervix, so deep inside of you. He looks to you for any signs of discomfort, and you offer him a desperate nod to start moving. He picks up on your pleas and begins thrusting into you. His pace is both passionate and rough, primal desire taking over him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good sweetheart, so tight f’me, so pretty.” He moans above you as he slams his hips into yours, hands resting on your stomach as he ruins you. “This pussy was fuckin’ made f’me.”

“Mhm Frankie.. Oh god you’re filling me up so good, feels so good” the noises leaving your body are sinfully so beautiful to listen to. Frank’s addicted to you, the way you look, feel, sound. He groans at his view, you arching your back off of the bed as you grasp at the bedsheets white-knuckled. He knows he won’t be able to last much longer, you looking as good as you do, feeling as good as you do clenching around his cock. He knows you are also close, the way your body twitches beneath him shows that much.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Let me have it.” He slams harder into you, moving his thumb down to toy with your clit, revelling in the way your moans have pitched up. It’s not long before you’re milking him dry, silent moans leave your agape jaw as coaxes out your squirt. Your orgasm coats him, soaking the bed sheets beneath you as he growls at the pulse of your cunt. 

His thrusts begin to falter as his own release approaches, One.. Two.. Three more thrusts and he's spilling his hot, sticky seed inside of you, painting your walls white as he drains himself into you. He groans with each pulse of his cock, gripping at your waist, thighs, hip dips to ground himself. He collapses on you with a deep breath, fully spent and pussydrunk. He plants kisses all along your face and chest, pulling you close to him. 

“My gorgeous girl, look so damn perfect, did so good f’me.” Frank whispers as he wraps his hand around the side of your head, pulling you back to look at him. “My pretty girl.”

“Your pretty girl, Frankie. All yours.”

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: this was veryy self indulgent so i hope thats ok!!

my inbox is open!

[punkeropercyjackson]

You seem pretty adamant/confident in your perception of Percy as transfem, and seemed pretty against people “detransfeminizing” Percy. Where do you see transfeminity in Percy, and where does this come from in the text?

Not asking to be an ass or anything, just curious, cause it’s not a take I often see.

So disclaimer transfem Percy is approved by actual transfem Pjo fans.Literally every transfem Pjo fan i know says she's definitely an egg and at least a few of them personally relate to her.With that out of the way,i'll be listing points that back up Percy being a trans woman and give it a solid basis.Get ready for a long ass list btw

Dosen't perform masculinity for any reason other than to try to blend in and frequently expresses she feels obliged to do certain things because of being percieved as a man rather than out of desire to do to them on liking them

Her descriptions of and relathionships with other female characters give off she feels them as not only attractive but also a 'forbidden fruit' she's not allowed to equate herself to in 'vibes' or 'coolness status' since she's 'such an oblivious ugly boy who could never understand girls' and in the original series,she had more female friends than male ones,a common experience for eggs growing up.In contrast,she resents manhood not only as a patriarchal oppressive force she was brutalized by but also as something forced upon her like a burden and there's zero indication Percy has reclaimed it or wants to

Insists on being called a gender neutral nickname over her masculine fullname and hates fullnaming even when it's not malicious

Implied/shown to be punk but dosen't wear punk fashion and opts for 'normie' androgynous outfits on thinking herself as unable to pull it off

Looks like a mini version of Poseidon and eldest daughters irl frequently fall under this(including me).This may seem flimsy but i've got another part regarding Percy's looks:Piper's description of her.She said she's not the ultra hunky manly man people at Camp Half-Blood described her as and she borderline calls him feminine looking or 'well......unimpressive' compared to the actual positively masculine Jason.Percy canonically is seen as more masc than she actually is according to a canon butch sapphic.Percy is the butchest girl Pjo fans can handle before they started getting scared and Piper is the real butch girl who DID scare them by *checks glittery notepad* not finding the aggro white masc vision of Percy by fans attractive as a brown native woman

Blue is considered a boy color but Percy's special interest in it was passed down to her by her mom and Percy is also scared of turning into her father yet is the mom friend of all her groups throught the books and accidentally admits this in her narration at one point.The metaphor is almost too easy

Important aspect is she immediately follows it up with 'that wasn't a good sign' and in the same book,she says she dosen't know how to talk to girls.In a scene where she's with Grover,Thalia and Annabeth.Two girls she's been friends with for ages and a goat.Percy you fucking robin blue egg

The Titan's Curse is an accidental trans girl allegory.The Hunters of Artemis are a transfem inclusive woman exclusive group that in the original mythology and irl greek history were used as slang for 'lesbian' that work to protect women from men as a social class and Percy has to prove herself as unlike men to them to gain her hero punchcards in this one and she actually succeeds onpage with solid writing!She's contrasted again Thalia and buts heads with her explicitly because they're so similar they clash so often but work through their problems together to be simply bantering best friends.Thalia herself is transfem-coded but a stud unlike Percy who's femme and that only adds even more layers to their already toptier dynamic and Percy is punk too but punk rock to Thalia's pop punk.She was literally a teenage anarchist(/Against Me! ref)

Nico is introduced in the same installment and he's the one Percy admitted to acting motherly to in her head.It's textual they were only not super close over Nico's crush on 'unachivable older straight boy Percy' and the visceral internalized homophobia it gave him combined with his upbringing pre-Lotus Hotel and it's also textual Percy only was Nico's crush over him idealizing her as a man she never was but that he loves her better platonically and thinks she's cute.Nico's got that tboy swag so they're trans best friends and found siblings soulmates and we were ROBBED of Nico and Percy

In the second Hoo book,there's a moment where a little roman girl says she wants to be Percy Jackson when she grows up in that exact wording and Percy proves herself as unlike men to an ancient greek tfem accepting women only group in The Amazons.This kinda stuff is consistent with her like genuinely

Rachel is widely thought of as lesbian-coded by lesbian Pjo fans and trans women dating their afab lesbian friends back when they thought they were both cishet and their friendship growing stronger than ever after breaking up is a common thing irl too.Rachel is an og art hoe(as in 'black artsy woman',not the gentrified shit)and we love her and her support of her trans bestie

The sea carries a lot of femininity to it in motifs,symbolism,aesthetics and folklore and 'the sea does not like to be restrained' screams tgirl Percy core and this is just my headcanon but Percy feels very moon-coded and the moon also carries mythology around it including femininity mistaken for masculinity due to it's strength.Also she's giving shark so she's a half-blood blahaj gijinka

Streaked hair,loves burgers,read an obscure ass marvel comic before the Mcu adapted it and a gamer /silly(also refering to her 'Groot Speak' joke in Toa when by the timeline,the Gotg movies didn't exist yet and she referenced playing Animal Crossing a lot in Wottg)

And her cycle breaking just clicks into place and is more satisfying and logical from a transfeminine perspective.Good men are good but trans women are the ones in need of rep and they deserve Percy Jackson as it since she's so much like them,she just is one of them.Miss Jackson is for real and she shouldn't apologize for who she is anymore!!She should've never had to but she should've always had self-love and she still can and never look back again

[ask-a-vetblr]

Hi there. I happened upon this public service announcement on YouTube and it’s making me feel a lot of things. On the one hand, I am a firm believer in being honest with (your) children about serious topics, as well as not cheaping out when it comes to vet care just because you don’t feel like paying for proper care. On the other hand, as you may or may not know, I recently lost a cat to flea anemia. Blue was the light of my life, and the vet told us that a blood transfusion could have helped her but that it would be $2,000, and I felt terrible that I couldn’t do it. But what do you think? Are they even talking about situations like mine?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hKD1E4uNqw

hello, Sueanoi here,

firstly, I am sorry for your loss.

Regarding the video, Who do you think that video was supposed to aim at? Who is their target audience?

Clients? Are they saying they shouldn't be stingy and pay up? ...or veterinarians? Are they trying to tell us to charge less? Is it to guilt trip us? Or who? Who are they trying to guilt trip?

While the country where I live, blood transfusion for cat is not that expensive, but it is still the most expensive procedure that we have in the price list. It is not by our decision. The cost of blood transfusion for cats come from :

1. donor cat , if not brought in by client, in-house donor cats / blood bank donor cats need their cost of care

2. blood typing for both donor and recipient cat , if not match, repeat until a matching donor cat is found.

3. blood cross match test. if they are not compatible, repeat 2-3. until one is found.

3. complete blood count for both cats, plus blood chemistry as needed (usually as complete as possible)

4. the donor cat will be anesthetized to collect blood. So that has a cost almost as a small surgery

5. blood bag, blood thinning solution, blood transfusion iv set, iv catheter, infusion pump, etc

6. anti allergic drug to prevent anaphylaxis (that happens sometimes)

7. post transfusion complete blood count.

8. blood medicine for the donor.

... And this is why it is so costly. I don't want to make it a pay-walled procedure that discourage clients either, but it truly IS a costly procedure. I haven't counted my salary yet and that's already through the roof.

I have worked at both settings where we have in-house donor cats, and where we don't, and we just buy from a feline blood bank. With in-house available, the cost goes down a bit. but we actually under-charge the cost of in-house cats care just to make it more affordable to our clients over there, and yet it is still considered very expensive.

I don't know what to do. I already undercharge and it's still too much to some.

I get called names. You know, unsavory names.

...but blood is not free. not even when it's "donated".

My work and time and stress to keep patients alive long enough and to make sure they do not get mismatched blood shouldn't be free either. nor does my assistants' work and time.

Many anemia causes can be prevented like infection/infestation, many can be treated with medication if caught early. Some others, they just couldn't be prevented. Some are just ... the decline of a body as it age (CKD induced anemia, treated with EPO, but EPO is kinda expensive too) , and some are just a sudden accident. Traumatic blood loss. Blood transfusion is still the most effective rescue procedure while we try to find and get rid of the root cause, if possible. It is unfortunate that we can't give our own blood to our animals, right? I have heard many clients expressed this feeling. They'd gladly pay with their blood if it will save their pets. ... but we can't. I'm sure you feel similar to this. I share the same feeling.

Again, I am so sorry for your loss. but you are not alone. This happens a lot. Not that I think it is a good thing the way it is. I wish it's cheaper so I can save more lives too.

To other readers (and to you, if you have more pets in your housing), parasite prevention is a very important regular care that I highly encourage. It is affordable and highly safe when it's done properly (as in, don't overdose it). Unless a vet say don't do it (ex: animal too sick for them), please, please use parasite prevention. And vaccinate them too. Flea drop and annual vaccine is so much cheaper than ... the consequences of foregoing. I do not enjoy charging blood money.

When talking finance at work, I do understand that a decision to not pay doesn't mean any less love. I feel the heartbreak on their faces. But my clients cannot go into bankrupting debt for this, for a procedure that in the end might not even save the animal, if the root cause isn't found. So that price wasn't the end of it. It's just to buy time. I do not find them bad people. Please do not feel like you are at fault for deciding that way.

So yes, to answer your question, I think they are talking about situation like yours, but the target of guilt wasn't you. It's me. The vets.

and it's ... sadly more a common mindset than you think.

[deterioratingpisces]

The Vampire Armand, high school drama teacher from hell.

He always chooses plays that are wildly inappropriate for the age range of his students. "Today we begin rehearsals for A Streetcar Named Desire! What? It’s about family!"

He takes his work way too seriously and expects nothing short of perfection. A forgotten line or missed cue is treated as a personal betrayal.

He refuses to call it “the school play.” No, it’s always referred to as The Production. Like it’s a Broadway masterpiece, and he treats it as such.

His punishments for lateness or lackluster performances are absurdly theatrical. A student misses their mark? "Congratulations, you’re now the understudy for the curtain!"

For every performance, he overdresses like he’s about to win a Tony. Rather than show off high schoolers' work to a room full of parents who’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

Verbal abuse is a daily occurrence. Not modern, explicit insults, but long-winded, theatrical tirades that leave students more confused than hurt. “I can see the potential in you—it’s just buried beneath layers of mediocrity and despair!”

Don’t you EVER, under ANY circumstances, try to leave his rehearsal early. Your doctor’s appointment? Postponed. Your sister's in emergency surgery? Unimportant. A relative is on their deathbed? Armand will tell you, “The true death is the death of your commitment to art.” You’ll leave the rehearsal wondering if your life has any meaning outside of his production.

One time, a group of shunned students tried to start a revolution against him. They made the fatal mistake of trying to get him removed from his position. Rumor has it that, by the end of that semester, none of them were seen on campus again. Some say they transferred to other schools. Others claim they’ve been “reassigned” to a different universe, one where Armand reigns supreme.

Once, he made everyone meditate for an entire rehearsal. In complete silence. The only sound was the soft swish swish of Armand pacing in front of the group, whispering phrases like "Feel the despair of the character. Embody the void." It ended with him dramatically fainting in the center of the circle, causing everyone else to panic.

He tapes every performance and subjects the cast to endless replays to highlight their mistakes. He treats this like he’s coaching a national sports team. "Look at this moment. What’s that on your face? A smile? Was this a comedy? No. Try again."

If a parent tries to intervene in his unorthodox methods, he breaks them too. "Oh, you want this to be a fun experience for your child? Let me show you what happens when mediocrity is allowed to flourish." By the end, the parent is running errands for him alongside their kid.

You want to leave the production? Good luck. Once you're in, there is no turning back. You may think you’ve found a way out, but suddenly you have hooded figures following you at all times, dropping off weird newspaper cutout letters at your house, vandalizing your locker with big red letters that say “TRAITOR.” Eventually, you’ll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness.

His assistant is an eleven-year-old with a clipboard that he simply calls “Boy.” He frequently complains to him:
“Boy, where’s my iPad?”
“Boy, have you seen his delivery of the soliloquy? A piece of bread could convey more emotion.”
“Boy, what’s your opinion on arson?”
“Has anyone seen the boy? I need him to fetch something for me… yes, it’s my iPad.”

Sometimes, during breaks, they play Minecraft or Roblox together. He gets mad whenever the boy beats him at Dress to Impress, though. “There’s no way that shabby look beat my elegant ensemble!” Whenever he’s feeling extra petty, he even sends him to clean his office as punishment.

He makes a massive spectacle out of releasing the cast list: fog machines, backup music, extras in costumes, choreographed performances—an entire Olympian-level ceremony. "And now... THE LEAD! Drumroll, please!"

He regularly fights with other teachers for not prioritizing The Production. “Your physics test? How adorable. The Production is the only education they need.”

The props department hates to see him coming. He demands Broadway-level sets from students working with cardboard and acrylic paint. “What is this? A tree? I’ve seen more realistic trees in The Lorax.”

He forces other art teachers to produce props during their classes. Pottery class? Now they’re making urns for The Production.

If his stars are stuck in other classes, he silently enters the room and glares at the teacher until they release the student. “No, no, don’t interrupt your lecture on photosynthesis. The future of theater can wait.”

He’s got the headmaster under his spell, so don’t even think about complaining to them. You might have a heated argument about his dismissal of your class, but when you storm into the headmaster’s office, guess who's already there, sipping tea and laughing like they’re in on some inside joke? (Spoiler: They are.)

His biggest rival is the drama teacher at the neighboring school, Lestat de Lioncourt. They’ve been sworn enemies since preschool. Their rivalry began when they both applied for the lead role in their school play. Neither of them got the part and blamed the other for it.

He sends his 11-year-old assistant to sabotage Lestat in petty ways—keying his car, putting dark blonde dye in his silver shampoo, or mixing laxatives into his protein powder. Nothing is off-limit.

He does this especially as a stress relief whenever something goes wrong in The Production. If their lead actress breaks her leg, he’ll casually say, “Boy, I need you to go and see to it that Mr. Lioncourt’s car gets towed.”

He and Mr. Lioncourt always attend each other’s plays. Afterwards, they exchange viciously backhanded compliments: “Now this play really was something. You’ve got a way of making the audience think—mostly about leaving during the intermission.” “Your style of directing is so fresh—it's like you’ve never seen a play before.” “You must tell me where you get your costumes tailored. They were so captivating, I almost didn’t notice when half of your cast forgot their lines.”(They’d never admit it, but they are kind of best friends.)

When stressed, Armand retreats into the world of Just Dance. He’ll dash into his office, and before you know it, you’re hearing the unmistakable "Dannnceee" intro blast through the door. On days you hear "Rasputin" pumping from the cracks in the walls, run. Something's gone terribly, terribly wrong.

His idea of rewards for students is... baffling. A lock of his hair? A recitation of an original theatre piece in the school hallway? Or the ultimate honor: an invitation to witness his one-man show. "This, my dear pupil, is your reward: the privilege of experiencing true art."

One day, his students stumbled upon a recording of his one-man show. A surreal spectacle in which Armand, clad in a series of increasingly ridiculous wigs, argued with himself for three hours. The props? A lone chair, which he threw dramatically around, and a crumpled newspaper he swore was "crucial to the plot," but never actually read.

He has personalised, often insulting, nicknames for every student in the cast. If he’s feeling generous, you might get called “The Chosen One” or “The Future of Broadway.” If not... well, "The Prose Butcherer" might be on the docket. Or worse: "The Disappointment," which he says with a lingering stare.

Rehearsal speeches that drag on for hours. By the time he finishes, half the cast has nodded off, and the rest are wishing they had, too. It’s always the same: “The characters are in you, feel their pain... feel it!”

Production posters that look like they cost a fortune. Seriously, how does a high school drama department afford high-quality photo shoots? These posters are so professionally done, people are starting to ask if he’s siphoning funds from somewhere… somewhere.

Absurd warm-up rituals. Don’t even think about going on stage without going through Armand’s hour-long warm-up. This includes screaming into the void, contorting your body into poses inspired by ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, and chanting lines from Macbeth in an attempt to "invoke the spirits of tragedy."

Pre-show pep talks that are mostly threats with a thin layer of encouragement. “I’ve prepared you to the best of my abilities. You’re not just actors... you are vessels for my vision. Fail me, and you will never know peace.” (He says this in the dark, under a single flickering lightbulb, to REALLY set the mood.)

At some point, they get used to his weird antics and emotional tirades. So much so that they get seriously worried for him whenever he doesn’t flip out when something goes wrong. When a prop breaks or someone misses their cue, the cast watches in horrified silence, waiting for the explosion. But when it doesn’t come, they look at each other, unsure whether to feel relieved or more terrified.

They try to figure out what’s wrong with him and find a way to cheer him up. Was he banned from his favourite Minecraft server again? Are things not going well at home? Maybe he’s just overexerted himself? They try to be on their best behaviour, tiptoeing around him like nervous mice to make sure they’re not the ones to make him suddenly implode. Then, just as they’re about to lose hope, Armand looks up from his iPad, elated, and announces that they’ve once again made it to the regionals. The cast collectively exhales in relief, unsure if this moment of joy is worth the emotional rollercoaster that led them here.

Questionable bonding experiences. "To get a better feel of your characters' emotional depth," Armand leads the class on bizarre excursions—abandoned asylums, the red-light district, or a graveyard at midnight. If anyone dares question the appropriateness of this, he dramatically sighs and mutters, "Art is not safe."

Once, they crashed a stranger’s funeral. All in the name of "studying grief and despair." Imagine mourning your beloved grandmother, only to see a group of teenagers with notepads, hovering over the casket and asking intrusive questions like, "How does this make you feel? On a scale of 1 to 10, how raw is the emotion?"

They were, unsurprisingly, kicked out. One attendee threatened to call the police, but Armand was prepared. As soon as the word “police” left their lips, one of the students screamed “SCATTER!” and the entire group fled the scene in an unholy frenzy, leaving the wake with half as many guests as before. They still talk about it as "the performance of a lifetime."

Afterward, they reconvened at a shabby diner to process the experience. Milkshakes and waffles were consumed in abundance (paid for by Armand, naturally, as “rewards” for their "artistic dedication"). The group debated whether true grief could ever truly be captured without disturbing the family, concluding only that they had to do it again, but next time, at a wedding.

Never mind the rough start the theatre group might’ve had at the beginning of the semester. By the end, they are all trauma bonded and have an undeniable soft spot for Armand. He pretends that he’s not affected by this at all because that’s just theatre, but you can still sense it from him. When he’s dressed in all black during the last school assembly of the year and hides his eyes behind sunglasses, you just know that he cares just as much.

A while ago I made this post called Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell, and I had so much fun writing it that I had to do a sequel.

[funpoire]

꒰ ‎﹒Iris Dikaiosyni presentation !!

Feel free to ask questions about her

Inpiration

Intro

Iris is from the Kingdom of Heroes. Before coming to RSA, she was homeschooled and never had a normal education in a public place. Her parents want her to work in the same place as them when she is an adult. They decided to take care of her education alone so she is ready to take the lead. Because of this Iris have never really thought for herself before coming to college. Her interest is mostly flowers. She likes to assign people blossoms and take them very seriously in the art of flower Language. She also has a very strong sense of justice. Something her family always taught her. As much as she is pretty socially awkward considering the fact she had little to no social interaction. She managed to have some friends and work on how to communicate with people. RSA helped her become a new person and discover herself. Changing her hair which was naturally pink now are red, changed the way she dressed, and even tried to find good makeup. She also watches a lot of movies talking about entering school so she understands better how things work. She just thought that part where all the school was singing was maybe too much so erase it on her list of stuff to do for the first day.

Before coming to RSA Iris decided to change completely her look.

The first day there was very hard for her considering the amount of people and the feeling of being lonely. After a few weeks, she managed to insert herself into a group of friends.

Names and Aliases

Full Name: Iris Dikaiosyni

Characteristics

Gender: cis woman

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 16

DoB: 9 May

Sign: Taurus

S.O.: ???

Height: 1m68

Alignment: Lawful good

Occupation: Student

Hometown: Kingdom of Heroes

School

Dorm:?

School Year: Freshman

Class: Class 1-C

Club: Botanic

Best Subject: practical magic

Connexion

Relatives

Unnamed mom

Unnamed dad

Friends

Neige Leblanche (good friends)

Fun-fact

Dominant Hand: Left

Favorite Food: Chocolate cake (Sokolapita) or anything with a lot of chocolate

Least Favorite: Black licorice

Design

Masterlist

It have a long time since i post oc content but i am back !

[iwantmyprizepet]

𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 4/?

Summary: Your doubts started to fight off any hope you had surrounding feelings for Agatha. Then of course…she looked at you. (??? so dumb. did I mention I hate writing these yet?)

Warnings: Just a little..something naughty, 18+, Alcohol.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It’s dawning on me how silly it is to drop a story that takes place around Christmas as summer nears. It’s when I started writing this and I guess it kind of just happened. Oh well, too late to back out now. I promise it’s not super hardcore holiday centered. If it’s not your cup of tea I apologize. Agatha will very much so start to shadow any care about dumb holidays soon. Christmas in May? Here we come? - Mich (I've been dreading posting this I think it's such a boring chapter. I promise the next one is better…I hope lol)

AO3 Previous Part

I felt on edge the rest of the night after Agatha left, unable to place exactly why. 

After closing up, I ran to the grocery store which nearly pushed me into overload from the chaos inside. 

Little visions slipped in here and there as I ran the aisles. Visions of tackling the public mayhem with Agatha by my side.

When I got home, the quiet of my apartment elevated the sound of my thoughts. 

Hateful little things nagging at the back of my mind now as I put groceries away. Not pretty enough. Too young. Not good enough. Not an ounce of a chance.

My flustered state continued into the morning. 

I was already running late to get to my parents and couldn’t find my annual thanksgiving sweater. It wasn’t anything special, just a dark green sweater I wore every year. It was completely ridiculous, but I felt near tears searching for it. 

I hadn’t felt this generally overwhelmed in a long time. 

I debated calling Chloe, but resisted knowing she’d have enough on her plate today. Some of her family members were quite, interesting. Interesting in a concerning political view type of way. I knew she’d be stressed enough on her own by now.

Finally, after digging for a century I found the sweater in a far corner of my closet.

I hurried out the door after finding it nearly sending myself sailing down the stairs.

——————————————————————————

I got swept into cooking as soon as I arrived. It was blazing hot in the kitchen and while they meant no harm by it, my parents were asking too many questions.

I wanted to be present so badly, but a dark pull constantly brought my thoughts to her. 

I felt near a boiling point by the time everyone else started to show up. 

After about twenty minutes after the whole family arrived I excused myself. My kitchen duties were finished and I was in need of a huge distance from the pulsing entertainment of the house.

Mom’s concerned stare followed me until I was out of sight. 

Usually the loudness of my family was endearing, funny and I’d join in. Right now it just felt like being in the middle of a thousand cymbals crashing. 

My mood was probably more obvious to everyone than I let myself realize. 

I shut the door and sunk onto my old bed letting out a long sigh.

 After a mere few seconds Agatha eased into my mind. It was settling and distressing all at once. 

As I stared at the ceiling a thought came over me and I reached for my phone. 

Opening the browser I typed in her name along with our town and state.

My brain consumed the word CEO right away. 

A scroll down led me to an article about her house. Some local news site showing pictures of the listing before she bought it. It was like something out of a movie.

I was spiraling the more I looked. Closing the tab I tossed my phone off the bed. It landed on the carpeted floor with a soft thump. 

The fact that I even allowed myself for a second to think I stood a chance with her. The clear age gap aside, paled in comparison to the wealth she seemed to have. Obviously so with the fifties she threw around like change. 

Shaking my head I brought my hands to my face. I sucked deep slow breaths in and out trying to steady my wobbling chin. How could I have allowed myself to fall so fast for her? 

The search dug it in deep how despite my inner turmoil, I really had let myself form a bit of hope. 

Now I just felt silly with a pang in my chest. 

Every memory I had of myself around her was causing me to cringe. I felt like a blade of grass to her sun.

A little while had passed, my body temperature dropping back to a normal level. I knew I had to get back soon before a search party was sent up.

While I had calmed down, I was laced with constant unwanted thoughts. My mood soured more and more by the minute.

 With force, I made my way back down stairs plastering a smile to my face. 

The usual joy my cousins kids brought me just seemed to wear me down. 

I of course still entertained their games, but even at their young ages they seemed to pick up on my emotional absence. 

Dinner passed in a blur of conversation. I interjected enough to fly under the radar. 

It’s what I told myself anyways. 

Knowing Agatha was alone today was just another lingering plague on my brain.

After we all finished eating I shooed everyone away taking it upon myself to clean everything up. 

The kitchen was spotless when I walked out of it and into the living room. I sunk into a corner half listening to everyone around. 

Finally, just after seven my final aunt left the house. 

I poured myself another glass of bourbon and breezed past my parents as they walked back from the front door.

“I’m gonna shower quick. I’ll be right back.” I called over my shoulder not waiting for a response. 

I grabbed the bag I packed and headed for the bathroom joined to my room. 

I took a long sip of the bourbon I’d poured and placed it down a little too heavily.

Walking to the counter, I took in my appearance. Every little imperfection seemed to be obvious today. I closed my eyes, Agatha’s face dripping into view. 

After my shower, I headed back down with an empty glass. 

Mom and dad were at the kitchen counter laughing at something. They both went quiet upon my entrance. 

I placed the glass on the counter, keeping my eyes away from theirs.

After a moment dad grabbed the glass, refilling it with a couple of cubes and some more bourbon. I looked up to him with a small smile, nodding and grabbing the glass.

“Something bothering you, honey?” Mom asked quietly. 

I shrugged swirling the ice cubes in the glass.

“Just, overwhelmed the past couple of days. Nothing to worry about.” I responded and finally looked up to her. “Really, work has just been a lot no big deal.”

I was grateful they dropped it there, even though they both clearly didn’t want to. 

The three of us settled into the night. Our annual tradition of watching The Griswold family Christmas commenced. A growing guilt from how distant I was today mixed into everything else.

My moms concerned glances lingered throughout the whole film.

The movie ended and I hugged them both goodnight before slipping off to bed. 

Typical thoughts of Agatha drifted me to sleep. Swirling around me in a grey cloud. 

——————————————————————————

Morning came, the smell of breakfast drifting through the air stirring me. There she was at the forefront again, right off the bat. 

Agatha fucking Harkness.

I pulled myself out of bed and made my way downstairs, desperate for water and distraction.

My parents had Christmas music playing softly, dancing about the kitchen singing along. I laughed shaking my head at them as I walked to the fridge. “Good morning my beautiful daughter.” Dad said brightly as I poured myself a glass of water.

“Morning.” I mumbled draining almost the whole glass in one swig. 

Mom eyed me closely as I finished off the glass. Always worrying.

After breakfast I was coerced into going to tag a tree. 

Sitting in the back of my dad’s truck had me feeling like a kid again. Usually a welcome feeling, now had me only thinking myself inferior to Agatha.

Agatha this, Agatha that I was sick of it at this point. Sick of how bitter it was making me ruining usually enjoyable moments.

The breeze whipped around the tree farm. A woman with her children were searching next to us. Her hair lay dark and wavy. 

I of course thought of Agatha.

My parents chose their usual ten footer. I could foresee it now, dad and I fighting it through the door after picking it up in a week. 

I picked myself a modest five foot tree, full with strong branches. 

We made our way back and I found myself itching to get home. Craving the silence and comfort of my own space. 

With hugs and arm fulls of left overs, finally I got into my car and headed home. 

The strip was empty when I pulled up. It took two trips to drag everything upstairs. 

After a shower and filling up on a plate of leftovers, I sunk into the couch heavily. 

For the first time since meeting her, I found myself dreading seeing Agatha.

——————————————————————————

The overwhelming churn bled into Saturday. 

A demanding, entitled wave of customers rattled through the doors consistently. Even Chloe seemed to feel the weight of it.

“Is it just me, or is everyone being extra rude today?” She asked annoyed, arms crossed.

I groaned elbows dropping to the counter. “I thought it was just me.”

“Must be ass hole convention in town.” Janice chirped into the conversation from the back.

I nodded in agreement with a light chuckle. 

I slumped around more and more as closing time neared, no sight of Agatha. While I was definitely dreading seeing her, it was worse not to. It started to solidify my worries about myself, how I looked to her.

I finished up cleaning twenty minutes to closing. Chloe and Janice left thirty minutes ago. 

The idea of seeing Agatha was slipping away. 

Just after that thought I heard a car door. My head shot up, heart thumping hard seeing a black Maserati.

With a rush, Agatha breezed herself in.

 A tension soaked relief moved through me.

After all this time worrying about seeing her again, now that she was in front of me all I could think about was folding into her. 

“Hey, you.” She said it so casually, like we’d known each other for years. I wondered if she had any clue how much turmoil she was causing me.

“Hi.” I replied steadily trying to calm my nerves.

“Sorry to come in so late.” Her hair fell in it’s usual waviness today, soft and windswept.

“Oh, it’s fine no problem.” I walked myself closer to her. I stopped halfway clasping my hands behind my back, anxiety growing under her gaze. “The usual?” I asked fighting to put a smile on my face.

“No.” She answered stepping right to me, perfume sweeping my senses.

My eyebrows pinched together, head tilting looking up to her. I waited for her to answer my silent question. 

She smiled softly fiddling with a gold ring on her pointer finger. 

“I was in the neighborhood and just wanted to see how your holiday went.” It was the first time she’d said something to me with a hesitation. 

I let out a sigh shoulders dropping. I imagined my forehead falling onto her chest, her arms wrapping me up tightly. Instead, I sat on the nearest stool. “It was alright. Stressful, but good.” I admitted.

She sat on the stool next to me, her knee brushed mine on accident as she did.

“How was your ‘just another day’?” I asked mimicking her explanation of the holiday. 

She laughed looking down, hair falling on either side of her face.

“Takeout and a bottle of wine. Quiet, but okay.” She said smile not reaching her eyes just like the other day.

My heart ached for her. The idea of her being so lonely on a holiday seemed unfathomable. Someone as kind and beautiful as her having nobody. It didn’t seem possible.

“Agatha?” I paused building the courage to ask. “Don’t feel the need to answer, but how is it possible you have no one to spend a holiday with?”

Her lips pursed, finger tapping on the counter as her eyes darted around everywhere but on me. 

“My father was never around. Mother passed away years ago, not that we were ever close. Any other family lives far away and well, I find myself having mostly acquaintances and colleagues. Not so many friends.” She answered me honestly. 

A confidence tried to mask the uneasiness on her face. 

“No great love in your life?” I asked bracing for the answer.

Long distance relationships were a thing, complicated situationships and also me not having a chance either way was a thing. I reminded myself of that over and over again.

She let out a laugh, rings clinking on the counter as she slapped it. 

“It’s always about money or power.” She rested her chin back on her thumb, pointer finger brushing her lips. “I think I’ve given up on it all together.” 

It sent a dark feeling through my chest. Not that I couldn’t agree with her sentiment.

“Yeah, I kind of agree.” I forced a laugh. “Well, not the money or power part but ready to give up on it all together part.”

She nudged my knee. “A pretty young thing like you. Why’s that?”

I fumbled on words, her own sending a mix of dread and want through me. The words young and pretty being side by side felt bittersweet.

Against all of my better judgement, I decided on the truth. 

“Well, I suppose between cheating and manipulation and” I faltered for a second looking over her shoulder. “And disappearing I guess, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem worth the ache.”

I looked back to her, her whole face pinched in anger. My face dropped searching her for any sign of what caused the change.

“Someone did those things to you?” She asked in a gritty tongue.

Uneasily, I laughed waving my hand. “First long relationship cheated, we were young. Second long term well, I suppose I didn’t realize how much control she had until it was over. How much I lost being with her. She just up and left one day, no word.” My light hearted explanation didn’t seem to ease the anger seeping off of her. “But.” I said clapping my hands to my legs. “The past is in the past I suppose.” 

I smiled trying to desperately change the atmosphere around the subject.

Her face softened then, an anger still lingering a presence around her forehead.

“That is despicable that someone would treat you that way.”  There was no joking behind her words, she spoke them seriously.

I shrugged rubbing the back of my neck, regretting even mentioning any of it.

“It’s the reason I’m back here and I am perfectly okay with my little life here so, I suppose it was meant to be. Despite how awful it was in the moment.” She finally smiled then fingers dropping just shy of my arm on the counter.

“Well, I suppose I can even be a little thankful for that.” A smile so soft, aimed right at me and my pattering pulse. “Although, if you need me to track someone down and destroy them, do let me know.”

I leant forward laughing at that, arm pressing into her hand that lay so close a moment ago. She laughed too, fingers pressing up into my arm impossible to ignore. 

It was joking the way she said it, but something in her eye told me she was only half joking.

“My own personal hitman, just what I’ve always wanted.”

We laughed, her fingers flexing into my arm again making my heart nearly stop. Every second felt like slipping on ice around her.

“I do aim to please.” She said it in a devastating tone.

Free hand making a show of flicking her hair behind her shoulder, chest puffed and chin up.

I held back an audible groan looking at her. As if on it’s own wave length, my arm brushed into her hand underneath it. In an instant, as if in reply her fingers moved against me again. 

In this moment with bated breath and a racing heart I thought, how could she possibly not feel it too? I instantly started feeling that annoying budding hope slip in. 

The next thought was the clear age gap. It just couldn’t be possible, her forming an interest in me. 

Stop getting your hopes up stop stop stop.

Her eyes flicked behind me as my thoughts raced. Her face dropped fractionally and looked back to mine.

“I suppose I should get going.” She said quietly, thumb pressing light as a feather against my skin.

My head snapped behind me, the clock reading five past closing.

“Right.” I looked back to her nodding my head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

I pulled my arm away from her hand and stood. I missed the feeling instantly. She stood and I followed, both of us walking to the door.

“See you tomorrow?” She asked shoulder pressed into the door, pausing as she always did.

I nodded smiling. “I’ll be here.”

A push against the door, a nod, a wink and she was gone. 

I stood in my usual daze she left me in, skin still tingling where her hand was. 

——————————————————————————

Sunday was flying by since the start of it. The later the day went on, the more my nerves built up. 

I grew to expect her later in the day now. I let Chloe and Janice go again, the act becoming a regular thing. It was often before, but not like it was now. 

I started pushing holiday storage boxes out after they’d left. I needed something distracting to do. 

Changing the playlist coming through the speakers to one with holiday songs instantly cheered me up.

I’ve always loved the holidays. No matter the drama, it brought people together. Despite the stress, it still seemed to always bring out an extra kindness from most. Made you want to be kinder to someone who looked like they were going through it. 

Now if you asked me before I moved back if I liked the holidays, it would have been a bahumbug.

A young couple sat in a corner table talking and laughing. I did a quick clean before cracking open the totes. The couple left not long after. 

Two stragglers popped in for drinks in the ten minutes that followed and then I was alone. 

It was just shy of an hour until closing when her Maserati pulled up.

I placed the small step ladder I was carrying down in the corner. 

I had just lined up our Christmas mugs on the counter after cleaning them. A mixture of green, white and red mugs. Our logo on either side surrounded by Christmas lights. 

Anne fought me a little on ordering them, arguing it was a waste to get mugs for one month.

My pleading convinced her and we sold so many the first year. Every order that came in sold out near instantly. 

Needless to say I already had a fresh batch on the way for the season.

I watched her as she walked in, unable to help the smile she always put on my face. 

Everything was black apart from her red sweater. As if she somehow knew the occasion she’d be walking in on.

“Hey.” I greeted, the chipper mood decorating had me in obvious.

“Well, hello smiley.” She replied only making it grow.

She peered over the counter at the red and green totes. Her intoxicating scent mingled with the air distracting me as it always did.

“Am I going to be coerced into being a helping hand for decorating?” She asked playfully.

“Oh, you don’t have to help.” I laughed leaning closer to her. “Might have to watch though.” 

One of her inviting hums sounded at that.

“Well, give me something festive for the occasion.” She said placing her purse down and shrugging her coat off. “Not too sweet.” 

A delicate, thin gold chain hung around her neck. Gold rings on random fingers to match. 

Her hands straightened and brushed down her sweater after she got her coat off. A questioning eyebrow raise from her struck me to realize I should be making her requested drink, instead of staring. 

“Festive and not too sweet.” I said a little too loud. “Yes ma’am.”

Another hum sounded from her behind me. I could feel her eyes on me as I grabbed a red and green mug. 

I placed a single squirt of peppermint and mocha into the bottom of both cups. Filling the rest with coffee from the pot I stirred them well. With a finishing touch, I shook them with a light dusting of the peppermint chocolate shavings we kept in a jar. Just enough for the eyes to enjoy. 

I turned to her with both mugs in and took a sip of mine. Nodding with a shrug I accepted it, placing mine down and handing the green one to her. She eyed it smirking, cupped hands warming around the mug. 

“I like the mugs.” She said before taking a light sip. 

Another warm hum came up from her, eyes closed. I wanted to be close enough to feel the vibrations of it. 

“Approved?” I asked softly.

Her hooded blue eyes opened with a nod. 

I took another sip from my mug before turning back. I’d cleared the shelves where we kept our mugs out front for drink orders, storing the usual mugs on shelves in the kitchen. 

I boosted myself up, kneeling on the counter to place the holiday mugs precisely. Red, white and green in that order. Finishing they all sat in an even line ready to be used.

I turned, hopping down just catching the tail end of Agatha looking away from me. I tried not to read into it too much. 

“I’m sorry.” I laughed and took a sip of my coffee. “This must be very boring for you.” 

Her head snapped to me. “I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” 

I almost took it as sarcasm, but the look she gave had me taking it as a serious statement.

“Give me something to do.” She requested fingers flexing as she played with her chain.

“You really don’t have to help.” I felt I needed to make that clear, she didn’t seem too into holidays. The last thing I wanted was her to feel forced into participating.

Agatha clapped her hands to her thighs before standing. 

“I’ll just start putting things out.” She stated heading over to a tote. I held my hands up. “Okay, wait wait wait there’s a place for everything.” She laughed, hand to her stomach. “I knew it.” 

“What?” 

“You just seem very particular about things, I was right.” 

I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond. She was right, I did tend to be a bit precise with everything. I could tell if someone had moved something an inch in my house. 

Chloe regularly informed me of how neurotic I was with making sure everything was in it’s rightful place. I always shot it right back, that I would’t be as neurotic at work if she wasn’t so messy.  She refused to help me decorate for Christmas after the first year she was here. Hence me dragging everything out after she had left.

“Okay.” I started to change the subject. “You can put these on the third shelf down by that table.”

I pointed to where I wanted them and gestured to the four snowmen in one tub.

“Any particular order, sarge?” She asked waiting with a look like she knew I’d say yes.

There was in fact a precise order I put them in every year. Just to prove her wrong I shook my head and turned away.

That’s how the next half hour passed. I had just started to hang the last strip of garland in the back corner. It was the highest spot out of them all, I struggled with it every year.

I usually didn’t have anyone around when I did, so it usually got hung with me in an odd stretch across multiple objects to get to it. It was almost a tradition at this point, risking my life for a string of garland.

I was very aware of Agatha watching me as I reached for the corner, stood up at the very top of the step ladder on my tip toes. 

I could bring my full size ladder in, but that seemed like a lot of effort for a single strip of garland. That’s what I told myself every year and every year I nearly died hanging it.

I nearly fell to the ground when I felt warm hands press to my lower back and left hip. They strongly steadied my fumble. When I did regain balance I remained frozen under her touch. 

“Don’t want you to fall.” She said gently and low. I began to falter for far too long, every second was loudly ticking from the clock. All I could get my brain to focus on was her touch on me. 

Shaking hands finally moved as I reached to hang the garland again. The hand on my hip held a little tighter, the one on my back pushing slightly harder as if to give me an extra boost.

Finally I reached the hook it latched to securing the strip of shimmering gold.

Her hands didn’t leave me until I stepped to the floor. I stilled again when I did, her body dangerously close behind mine. 

She did exactly what I could only think of doing. Stepping closer she pressed ever so lightly against my back. My eyes fluttered closed for a second. “Dangerous maneuver.” She said on a warm peppermint breath. “It does look nice though.”

I knew she could hear my shaky breathing. There was not a possibility it wasn’t audible to her. 

“Yeah.” It was all I could muster in response.

The bell above the door broke the trance. Agatha stepped back in an easy way. 

“Hey bud.” Brooks greeted bustling through the door. Chloe followed smiling sheepishly, like she knew something was disturbed. 

“Hey guys, what are you doing here?” I tried to ask out casually, hands and voice still trembling slightly. 

Nothing felt casual at all. The worst part was how uncomfortable Agatha looked now. I’d never even think she possessed the ability to feel anything but in control of all situations. 

Her head hung down now, hands behind her back a pinching look tracing her face.

“Wanted to see if you would care to join us on a trip to Tempests tonight?��� Brooks asked casually as if he didn’t just shift an entire balance. 

It was a restaurant we regularly went to.

“You should come too.” Chloe said gently towards Agatha, clearly grasping the gravity of the moment with how carefully she said it.

I stepped closer to Agatha just as she moved away. She made a show of looking down at her phone. 

“I actually have to get going.” She picked up her coat and started to slip it on. “Business call in twenty, can’t miss it. Have fun tonight.” Everything about it felt like a lie. Dismissive and hurried, an almost irritation behind her words. 

She finished buttoning her coat and grabbed her purse. Her hand went to, I’m sure fish for her wallet. I took long strides over to her and stopped her hand. “I’ll walk you out.” I said quietly. Her eyes wouldn’t hold mine, but she nodded.

I stepped out first holding the door for her. The cold air fell nicely on my warm face. In a silence, we both stepped to the drivers side door of her car. 

“I had fun.” She said finally meeting my eyes. 

It seemed honest, but an uneasiness hung behind it.

“Are you sure you have to go?” I asked inching a bit closer. 

“Yes.” She nodded and her eyes ghosted over me before looking off to the side. “Yeah, I hadn’t been paying attention to the time.”

I nodded back looking down at my shoes.

Her hand fell to the door handle. In a rush of insanity I reached out placing my hand over the one that held her purse.

“I had fun too.” 

A true smile reached her eyes at my words. The hand that lingered on the door handle reached over, sandwiching my hand between both of hers.

“I’ll be away on business for a few days, I won’t see you until next weekend most likely.” She said it with a slow hesitation.

“I’ll be waiting.” I replied instantly squeezing the hand that was under mine. 

For a second I felt like I might have the high point. Like I somehow, maybe might be effecting her like how she effects me. The voice telling me to keep my hopes down was duller than the rest in the moment.

Her demeanor changed like wiping a chalk board. She held herself to her usual punctual poise. “Good.” With a wink she turned, opened the door and got in. 

I moved behind the car and to the curb, watching her drive away. 

I thought about dramatically running after her car for a few seconds. Making her roll down her window and kissing her. I shook the daydream away.

I walked back in, Chloe wincing and shrinking down as I did. 

“I’m sorry.” She apologized “We really didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I shrugged her off and walked over to the decoration bin. “It’s fine.” 

“We saw what happened.” She paused. “With the ladder.”

I scoffed grabbing the battery candlesticks for the window sills.

“So you’re just spying through windows now?” It came off more irritated than I meant it to.

“Really, it’s not like that.” Brooks chimed in cooly. “We were walking up and just saw it happen through the window. We legit both froze, dude. Then we thought it would be weird if you saw us driving away or turned and saw us staring so we waited a minute then came in. Honestly, we were like two fools outside fumbling with what to do.”

I laughed at the thought and it eased the tension as they joined in.

“Listen, there was nothing to interrupt anyways. It’s all good.” “Lady.” Chloe nearly yelled, her eyes wild and wide. “Don’t give me that bull shit. That was not nothing.”

“Easy tiger.” Brooks said patting her shoulder with a chuckle.

“Yeah, tiger.” I jested placing the last candle in the window with sticky tac. “Now if you wanna get to the restaurant, help me finish up and put these bins away.” 

Luckily, Chloe and Brooks took the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

Dinner was nice and easy as usual. The topic of Agatha Harkness didn’t return. Still, it didn’t displace her from my thoughts.

They pulled away after dropping me off, leaving me to admire the lights and decorations through the cafe window. The view settled a warmth in my chest and I couldn’t help but smile. I’d beaten everyone on the strip to it this year I realized, for the first time. 

The ladder still left in the corner sent a chill down my spine. I pretended it was from the wind and walked up the stairs.

——————————————————————————

Monday came and went nicely. I spent all morning decorating the apartment for the first of the month. 

Chloe and Brooks came over later on in the day. I invited them over for dinner and a movie. 

The rest of the week on the other hand? Passed at an agonizingly slow pace. The memory of Agatha’s touch had a sick twisted way of infiltrating every other thought.

I found myself wondering just as often, if she was thinking about me. 

——————————————————————————

I opened my eyes slowly in bed, the strand of Christmas lights in the kitchen the only thing lighting my apartment. 

A sound from near the window startled me to attention. Slowly a figure inched forward into the light. “Agatha?” I asked confused, sitting up in bed.

A low drawn out hush pushed past her lips. 

As she stepped closer to the bed, her arms crossed over her torso. Slowly, her hands grabbed the hem of her sweater pulling it above her head.

“Agatha?” It came out in a croak this time.

She threw the sweater to the floor, gold necklace and a purple laced bra the only thing covering her upper half. 

Her mouth formed another hushing sound. 

Stopping just a foot shy of the bed, her hands found the button of her pants. In a blink she undid them, bending to drag them down her legs.

“What…”

She cut me off. “Quiet.” 

Smiling a wicked grin, her hands disappeared behind her back. Another quick second had her bra falling to the ground. I let out a whimper heat pooling low inside of me. 

“Good girl.” 

The door bell rang snapping my head like a rubber band breaking. I went to turn back to her, but it rang again. 

        ~~~~           ~~~~           ~~~~           ~~~~ 

I woke with a jumping start to my alarm blaring. My breathing was at a panicking level, heart racing to a concerning degree. An ache between my legs stole almost every ounce of my attention. 

A fucking dream.

“Oh, fuck.” 

I said it out loud just to assure myself, how absolutely screwed I was.

[thana-topsy]

𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊𝖙!

You've discovered my blog! I go by Topsy and I've been obsessively writing and drawing fan content for the Elder Scrolls since 2019. I am eternally at the whims of my muse and at the behest of the voices in my head, so I promise no consistency. I do this for fun and for pleasure, and I intend to keep it that way.

About & Tags & Ramblings under the cut:

Age: 34 Pronouns: He/They I don't have a DNI list, but I block liberally, especially in the TES fandom. If I block you and it's a mistake, you're welcome to reach out (if you can) and I'll unblock. But if the vibes are even remotely off, chop chop. I was too patient for too long with the nonsense. I'm literally just here to have a good time and do the things I enjoy.

When I'm not online, I enjoy a quiet life with my beloved husband of 7 years, my beautiful and wonderful friends, my annoying cat who I love (I named him Ancano, so I reap what I sew), and my various hobbies and interests. I keep coming back to TES, but I'm also very much into: - Baldur's Gate 3 - Dungeons and Dragons - Magic: The Gathering - Disco Elysium - The Occult/Daemonology/Enochian Magick - Vampires (all of them) I used to be a TES-exclusive blog, who has time to be that committed to the bit these days? If you like Disco Elysium, feel free to check out my other tumblr where you can find my art for that fandom: @ssshiversss

𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘:

#topsy draws#topsy writes#topsy's asks

𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕴𝖓-𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘:

"Halfway to the Sky"

Sarel is not like other children. First of all, he was adopted. Second, he is blind. Third, (and while some may argue most importantly, though Sarel disagrees), he is Falmer. -- "Found" by an Altmer researcher and scholar with the College of Winterhold, Sarel's existence has remained a relative secret, hidden behind the stone walls of the college. All of this changes on his eleventh birthday, when a mysterious stranger appears at the college doors asking after him.

"Liminal Bridges" (A sequel to "Breathing Water")

A year has passed since Neloth and Teldryn journeyed to Skyrim in search of the Arms of Chaos. Now, a new threat looms on the horizon -- mercurial and shrouded by ghosts of the past -- forcing Neloth, Teldryn, and Talvas to abandon the life they knew. While trying to keep their wits about them and their feet beneath them, they are reminded of this fundamental truth: that the only constant in life is change.

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖕𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖞!

[trazodone100mg]

I'm about to start reading the light novel version of The Summer Hikaru Died, and before I do I want to get a few questions and thoughts about the series and his character out of my head since it's been nagging me.

When did Hikaru die? I've been thinking about this recently. The start of the story takes place in the summer, six months after the 'real' Hikaru has already died. I'm going off of memory alone so the details are fuzzy, but I'd like to go back and reference the manga at some point to see if any dates are listed or months named. If the summer season spans late June to late September, that would mean Hikaru died in January to April, most likely in the winter, early spring at latest. If I remember right, it was rainy and cold when Yoshiki found Hikaru's body.

The 'summer' Hikaru died could be non-literal, as in Hikaru has been dead all this time, but the person Yoshiki knew didn't begin to fully disappear and be replaced in his heart until his suspicions were confirmed that day outside the convenience store. Hikaru didn't truly die until Yoshiki--the first person to find out--was allowed to properly grieve for him over the summer the story takes place. It gets philosophical from there; what is death, and what does it really mean to 'die' in a situation like this? Etc.

I would have a few questions if the story intends to take a more literal path, however, starting first and foremost with, "If Hikaru dies in the summer, does that mean Hikaru hasn't died yet?"

When we consider the title The Summer Hikaru Died, are we only considering the 'real' Hikaru?

I know the Japanese uses different characters in the spelling of the character's name to differentiate between the 'real' Hikaru and 'Hikaru', and Yoshiki does this in his head. Which spelling does the title of the series use? All genuine questions that may hold no water, but has been interesting to think about.

I also have pretty strong feelings about Hikaru's character, if you couldn't tell. And not just 'Hikaru', but the 'real' Hikaru and how his understated and very grounded characterization and emotions inform the 'Hikaru' we know. I think the author is extremely talented to be able to convey so much about him when we have been shown so little of him so far, and I think I understand him fairly well.

The most important thing to note right off the bat; I believe Yoshiki's feelings for the 'real' Hikaru were mutual. Which, I didn't at first! And Yoshiki certainly thought his feelings were completely one-sided as well. But after contemplating their characters and the dialogue, I've come to believe that their depth makes it easy to misinterpret.

I will once again insert a disclaimer that I am working on memory alone, so feel free to correct me at any point if I am mistaken, but my reasoning is as follows:

In the oneshot pilot that serves as a first draft of the series, 'Hikaru' explains when asked that he likes Yoshiki and believes his new body played a major role in influencing his feelings, since it already liked Yoshiki before he came to occupy it. As the 'real' Hikaru is dying, he regrets that he is unable to tell Yoshiki how he really feels, and asks the entity that possesses him to tell Yoshiki that he likes him, too. 'Hikaru' also mentions the curse; that the Indou's lovers are inevitably stolen away, that it has happened in the past between two men (which, on an only semi-related note, I have a ton of other questions I won't even touch here about the previous generation of Indous and Tsujinakas, and this may be entirely off-base but I can't shake the feeling there was...something similar going on between Yoshiki's emotionally distant father and Hikaru's dad, who was his best friend), and that the 'real' Hikaru saw himself reflected in that and was frightened by it.

But that was all a part of the first draft of the story, and we know not everything carried over to the story we know now. But I do believe we can still use it to gain some insight into the author's intent.

Yoshiki describes the 'real' Hikaru as mature and not oft to show big emotions. He wasn't the type to cry, but I have come to interpret his character as somewhat numbed and depressed, and the type to deflect with humor. Here's what I think did carry over; 'Hikaru' certainly likes Yoshiki (in his own, unique way), but in dialogue expresses that he's unsure if those feelings are entirely his own, and doesn't know what pieces belong to who between the two individuals known as Hikaru. The 'real' Hikaru was scared of his feelings for Yoshiki, for a few reasons. He could become a victim of the Indou family curse, he wouldn't be able to marry Yoshiki to prevent the curse befalling him given that they are both men (Hikaru's father makes it a point to tell him that the only way to stop the curse is to marry the one you love quickly), and growing up in the country, they have witnessed second-hand the consequences of not conforming in a town where everyone knows everyone's business (more than once, but specifically: "He's not sick, he's a homosexual.")

Hikaru's father was dead, he most likely felt that he needed to suppress his feelings of love for his best friend and had no way to move forward (my mind always goes back to how Hikaru, in a flashback at the start of vol. 1, turns away from Yoshiki when telling him he could probably find a girlfriend easily if he only tried), and carried the burden of performing whatever their family ritual entailed. He didn't commit suicide, but he died carelessly and only regretted that he would be leaving Yoshiki alone, as he was the only other person to truly understand how Yoshiki felt. And maybe his death was one means of protecting Yoshiki since he couldn't deny his feelings for him.

[cherribangevent]

Some FAQs for the event!

Some of you might be wondering how it all works - so here is a helpful little guide that should answer any questions burning away in your mind. Don't see you question? Send an ask!

“Is CherriBang specifically for fics about Cherri Bomb?”

Nope! The name is just a play on the character name and the phrase 'big bang', to make it a bit more Helluva/Hazbin related. Fics can be about everyone!

“On that, since 'Bang' is in the name, are all fics explicit?”

Nope! The fics being written have a range of ratings, from gen to explicit – but for the explicit fics, that isn't the main purpose of them (so no complete porn without plots) – artists who pick a NSFW piece will have other scenes to choose from, and indeed if you pick a NSFW piece you will be encouraged to either do a tumblr-safe version of your art, or two pieces – one that is safe for Tumblr and one that... might not be ;)

“Is there an application process? How will I know if I got in?”

That's the neat part – EVERYONE GETS IN! There is no application process or anything to follow – if you can art, you're in the event!

“What characters are the fics about?”

There is an entire, huge range. There are over 40 works being written, some featuring the Vees, some featuring Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, Rosie, Vaggie, Angel, Blitz, Charlie... it would be impossible to list them all. Keep your eyes on the Bsky page for tiny peeks!

“Is this an event for ships/will there be ships?”

There are ships, yes – but there is also a wide range of non-shippy/gen content. Some of the ships that might catch your interest are RadioApple, RadioStatic, PolyVees, RadioRose, Lucilith, Chaggie, RadioDust, HuskerDust, Stolitz, Blitz/Fizzy – and so many more!

If shipping isn't your thing, we have found family, misadventures, QPRs – so many things you could think of!

“Is it all canon characters?”

For this, yes – OCs do not play a heavy part in any fic. However, there are AUs, so there are still lots of varied interpretations of the characters!

“What is the word limit?”

The minimum word limit for fics is 7k. There is no maximum! Some writers are cooking up absolute novels of content!

“Where can I read the entries?”

All entries will be posted on August third, on AO3. The art made for the fic will be linked within the fic, as well as posted on that artists individual social media.

“Is it too late to sign up?”

As a writer, yes – but artist signups are opening May 1st! And for writers, there will be the inverse of this event happening later in the year, where artists sign up first and writers sign up afterwards to write a fic for their chosen art piece!

“How will artists be assigned to writers?”

As an artist, you will have access to reading a synopsis, relevant tags, and an excerpt from each fic. You won't know who wrote it yet – you will be asked to fill in a google form numbering the fics you want to work on in order of preference, from 1-5 – with 1 being your most preferred, 2 being your second most... you know how numbers work. We will endeavour to give everyone one of their top three preferences, with a little bit of decision making only if multiple people have the same top preferences!

“Can artists draw whatever they want?”

The spirit of the event is collaboration – so making art based on something in your writers fic. Whether that's a scene, a comic – multiple spot art pieces if you feel so inspired (and have incredible time management skills). So long as you make at least one fully rendered piece, you can go wild with any extras you feel like.

“Is anything forbidden?”

Creators have been given creative freedom to make what they want, but for fics with darker themes, all appropriate trigger warnings and tags are noted in the fic synopsis.

“What happens if I need to drop out?”

If you're an artist, please reach out to a mod and let them know. We understand life happens, but we really don't want to experience radiosilence on it – you don't have to tell us details, just a quick “I won't be able to complete my piece because of work/family/etc” will be fine. Your writer will be assigned a pinch hitter if you were their only artist!

If you're an artist and your writer drops out, you will be given the chance to pick a different fic to work on, and you will be given additional time to do so. We hope this won't happen as authors have been working on their fics in the lead up!

“How often do I need to check in with mods?”

There are five check ins after artists join – May 30, to confirm you've spoken to your partner, June 13, to confirm you've got sketch/lines done, June 27 to provide an update, July 18 to provide further update, August 1 to confirm everything is ready to go for posting August 3!

“Who can I ask if I have more questions?”

We have several helpful mods. @dizzlypuzzled, who is the creator of this event – as well as @flywolf33, @phoenix-arising, @bonetrix-arts, and @mothballmilkshake. You can reach out to any of them on bsky or tumblr, or the event page on tumblr as well!

“What do I do if my writer/artist isn't communicating with me?”

Reach out to a mod, and we'll step in. If needed, above steps about dropping out may be taken, but we hope it doesn't come to that!

“I'm a writer and I don't like the approach my artist is taking. Can I switch artists?”

This is a collaborative event, and we encourage everyone to discuss with their partner what they want from the fic/art they are working on. If for any reason you find it impossible to come to an agreement, please reach out to a mod as soon as possible as we will discuss shuffling/pinch hitter availability.

“I'm an artist and I don't like the direction the story I chose is going/I think the synopsis was misleading. Can I change writers?”

If you get matched with your writer after choosing from the synopsis/snippet and find out the story is going in a direction that makes you uncomfortable, please reach out to the mods as soon as possible. If it is early enough, we may be able to shuffle a few people around until we find a better fit. All writers are encouraged to be as up front as possible about the direction of their fic, ships, etc, so we hope this won't happen – but understand if something unexpected comes up.

[rivendellwatch]

✨🧸💤 Cozy Cuddles Week is officially coming... and the banner is HERE! 💤🧣✨

We’re officially close to May and from getting all snuggly and soft together — Cozy Cuddles Week kicks off on May 12th, and I’m honestly already mentally wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with hot cocoa in hand!!!!☕💗

I just finished the main event banner (!!!) and a few matching headers — and YES, I am once again working on those little “This person took part in Cozy Cuddles Week” banners like I did for Fluff Week! Y’all seemed to really love them last time (and honestly? so did I. They were ✨adorable✨ and I am nothing if not weak for aesthetics).

It’s so surreal and sweet to see another gentle event coming to life — and I wanted to thank everyone again for voting, sharing ideas, and just being so ridiculously lovely about it all!!! We’re building this together, and it means the world!!!!

And hey — if you’d like to collaborate by making: 📝 prompt lists 🎴 cards or templates 💌 moodboards or inspo kits 🧵 or literally anything cozy themed for the event…

Please feel free to DM me directly! I’d love to include more voices and hands in the process, and make it feel even more community-built like Fluff Week was!!!💕

🧸💭 Also, genuine question for the room — Would you all prefer Cozy Cuddles Week to be TROP-only, or are you open to mixing in general LOTR content too?

Like, same vibes, same cuddles, just with the wider Tolkien fam involved too? 👀🍵 Curious what would feel best for everyone! Let me know 💌✨

Mark your calendars, start mentally assigning your characters into cuddle piles, and let the countdown to soft begin!!!🐑☁️✨

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Honestly? No. Don't do this. Not unless you know what you're doing with a LOOOOOONG list of concerns/risks. Some examples yall may or may not have thought about previously

How will you ensure the video is not destroyed or removed from your possession along with the device used to film it?

What do you intend to DO with the footage (e.g. publish online, submit to a warcrime/human rights abuse org, provide to the abused person upon their request as evidence, etc)

Who is visible in it? The person being abused? The perpetrators of the abuse? Witnesses or potential interventionists who may not be less capable of STOPPING THE ABUSE IN THE MOMENT due to the risks of being filmed while doing so?

Do you know how to remove data from the video such that it can't be used to doxx you later?

Do you know where you can host/upload it without violating TOS and risking it being taken down?

Do you know the person being abused? Have you spoken to them about their comfort being on camera during the experience? Do you know what they may or may be willing to let you do with the video?

Can you film AND maintain your risk-/situational-awareness?

Do you think filming is enough in this moment? What if there are already others filming? Have you checked? Are you doing this for a purpose or because you feel compelled to?

Seriously. When I said don't film unless you have a specific, filming-safety oriented plan for doing so, I meant it. This is not an advisement with wiggle room. Unless you are VERY sure that the footage you create will not do further harm down the road (at least not more than it does good) you simply SHOULD NOT BE FILMING.

Like. I've seen organized direct actions to protect immigrants from being kidnapped by ICE. Something you'll notice is that, when planned, these films will NEVER show the face or image of the person(s) at risk, and will usually only show the faces of consenting adult organizers with media training. There is a REASON for this. Stopping an abuse of human rights does not require a camera, and a camera can in fact EASILY make the moment worse. Your suggestion undermines what I am trying to say by positioning filming for "a good cause" as enough of a reason to be thoughtless and non-strategic in how you take risks during direct action work. Do not suggest this and think you are agreeing with me.

I'm sorry if my tone sounds harsh, I promise that I understand why you thought this was a reasonable caveat, and am not picking on you specifically, but your comment was an opportunity to further clarify as I saw more and more people misunderstanding this message.

Do. Not. Film. Yourself. Or ANYONE. Else. Ever?????? During a direct action. Not unless it was planned, blocked out, and risk assessed ahead of time. Not even if you think "I can always delete it later if it's too risky." No!! That's the devil talking and the video will play at someone's conviction hearing!!!

Stop! Fucking! Filming!

Remember: if you film yourself doing a direct action, the video WILL play in the courtroom when they indict you!

[enemywasp]

I HATE tiktok and the Internet in general rn for the obsession with "oh this person's smellyyy" "Brother it STINKS over here" "BOO 💧🧼🧽🚿" and stuff like that. I wish I could put into words how demeaning and patronising that whole idea is and people implying anyone they don't like doesn't wash.

For one there's something grating about being insulted in a manner like we're in nursery again. But also WHY is that the go to insult. Why do you associate these things? Especially to those you deem "chronically online". Like I don't want to sound pathetic but it feels so nasty to me.

is it extreme to say this feels tied to ableism? And classism too?

[trappedinafantasy37]

We did it guys! Minthara is in the top 100 most mentioned video game characters on Tumblr, sitting comfortably at rank 55!

With Astarion at rank 1 (cause of course), Gale at 5, Shadowheart at 6, Karlach at 8, Lae'zel at 9, Wyll at 12, Halsin at 16, Tav at 19, Gortash at 47, and The Dark Urge at 67. Baldur's Gate 3 is also the most talked about video game on this platform, as well as the 6th most talked about thing on all of Tumblr!

I wish Minthara was higher, but you know what, I'm happy she's on there at all! It is also interesting that she ranks higher than Durge and that Durge is that low on the list. It's also pretty interesting that there is such a discrepancy between Durge and Gortash as Durgetash is also the 67th most talked about ship on the platform. It is quite an achievement that our favorite drow is even on that list at all.

It is all just making me think back to some of the more dejecting AO3 statistics with Minthara almost being a blip, practically a statistical outlier in some ways. Even some insignificant side characters got more attention and adoration than her, or had numbers that would compare to her. But Tumblr is a much bigger platform than AO3, containing a much wider array of topics (including fanfics). So for Baldur's Gate 3 and Minthara to stand out that much is really saying something! Reading these statistics on Tumblr does go to show that one platform does not represent the entire fandom and that AO3 is only a piece of the picture.