#i just like these aesthetic crystal weapons

[adragonsfriend]

Having an incredible vision of a world where "igniting a lightsaber" is a bit more literal of a phrase, and lightsabers are like blowtorches, where you turn on the gas and then light it with another flame.

Please just imagine count Dooku with a fancy metal cigarette lighter for this purpose,

Anakin always loses his lighter and has to ask R2-D2 to light his saber with the flamethrower he installed,

Obi-Wan always just pulls a single match out of his pocket and holds it up like it's the last one he has but it never actually is

Qui-Gon and Yoda have both lit their sabers with a blunt at some point (idk if actually possible i am not a cool kid but shhh they are space wizards)

Initiates all have to line up to have an instructor light their training sabers

Going to Ilum to get your kyber crystal is accompanied by (another) lesson on fire safety

Wookies and other furry species have some kind of safety lighter probably

Aquatic species use some other form of weapon i guess? or have like sci-fi greek fire idk

Some Jedi believe that if there is no naturally available source of flame than it's not the will of the Force to light their sabers at all

A common gift from masters to padawans is their first lighter or maybe there would be a pair of beads designed to create sparks (kept on padawan braid/strings as a back up)

Mace always uses the spark beads (shatterpoint imagery you get me)

Depa does the same as Mace, for the aesthetic (she didn't get a purple lightsaber but she can have this ok), and teaches Caleb the same (he keeps his beads into the empire, even though he has to hide them)

Luke also uses R2,

Pre-war Jedi don't even light their sabers that often, and this is why those rumors about Jedi all using death-sticks started, since very few outsiders know why they actually carry lighters

Sidious lights his with lightning (which sounds cool but actually it backfires and blows up in his face at least 50 percent of the time)

Maul just has an actual blowtorch he uses to light his saber, which

If the Jedi try and deny the death stick rumors than new rumors start that they're all pyromaniacs, so they don't really bother.

[sky-scribbles]

Okay, I'm a couple of hours into Veilguard, so I thought I'd share all the things I've really loved so far:

The combat is so much more dynamic and fluid! There were things I liked about the previous games' combat, but I do remember Inquisition often feeling like 'select enemy, then mash buttons until they die.' I love that I can duck and weave around monsters! I love being encouraged to swap between weapons (however much I have to suspend my disbelief about Rook putting away two swords and grabbing a bow in a single second)! It's just really fun!

Maybe I'm imagining it, but I feel like the camera is a bit closer to Rook, and it makes so much difference. Sometimes in Inquisition, and often in Andromeda, I felt really far away from my character, and it creates this sense of distance. It's a tiny thing, but I do genuinely think being that bit closer has made my experience a load better.

I cannot describe how affirming it feels to have an NPC point to my character and casually say 'they.'

Holy shit I love the gang's casual looks. Harding's embroidered florals and Neve's colour scheme?? Also, both of them changing their hairstyles in the field? God I wish I could show this to my 16-year-old self as they stewed in frustration over the women in Mass Effect having to go into battle with their long hair down.

The aesthetics of Arlathan! I made such a delighted noise when I realised they ancient elves had power crystals and magitech-looking devices; sci-fi like elements being introduced into fantasy is my jam, and it works so well to make clear how advanced Elvhenan really was. It reminds me of how cool it was in Critical Role when the characters went to the ruins of Aeor and found a bunch of advanced magitech: that same feeling of 'holy shit, this world we've spent so much time in and treated like a normal fantasy world is post-apocalyptic.'

Being able to give my Rook so many freckles.

[internalscream1ng]

Twst as Genshin Elements

Okay, you can point and laugh at me now for this.

I play a lot of Genshin and major fan of twst

I am here to dump my thoughts.

Heartslabyul :

Riddle - Pyro - Listen , he uses fore magic the most part. With being passionate about his studies, I can definitely see him using some type of Pyro magic.... He would be a sword user. If not a Pyro user, then he would be a Hydro user, for being the one to lay down the Queen's Laws and hold the rules and justice.

Trey - Dendro - This one is biased, with his green hair. He would be a bow user, to be honest, I am basing this idea off Tighnari.

Ace - To be honest, this was hard to think of. I kind of wanted to say pyro off my head, but I didn't want to make it seem like I was making the whole Heartslabyul a Pyro based dorm. But thinking more I think he could have an Ameno after his out burst towards Riddle in chapter one, standing up and fighting for "freedoms" or against the Queen's Rules. A sword user 100%

Deuce - Pyro, he works too hard , he seems like a hard worker like a Geo user. I might lean more onto being a Geo than Pyro, but I am throwing these off the top of my head. He seems like to use some sort of polearm!

Cater - Definitely Electro do I need to go into detail? He is a polearm user fully.

Savanaclaw:

Leona - Cryo - His mood swings towards being Cryo. But he could also be Electro. He could he a claymore user.

Ruggie - Geo for his hard working personality. Because if he was a Pyro user, he would be a pyromaniac! Ruggie is a sword user, have you seen those arms, he has tried to lift a claymore, but he fell backwards.

Jack - Geo or Hydro, I am not sure how to explain this. So just, trust me bro. He too will be claymore.

Octavinelle:

So I am biased, and I am going to keep in one paragraph or two. The three are Hydro users! I could say Jade as some sort of Dendro user for being in a Mountain Club ( I forgot what his club was called and too lazy to look up) same with Floyd being Electro , his whole mood swings can be seen as misunderstood by other students as violent. But I am biased and since all three comes from the sea, they are Hydro users.

Azul would be a catalyst user, Jade would have a sword, and so will Floyd too as a sword user.

Scarabia :

Kalim - Pyro user, gives off Bennett personality vibes but instead of using a sword, I want him to use a catalyst. Only because I don't think he has good aim with a bow and also with a sword and polearm I think he would do decent, but it isn't his first weapon choice, claymore is for buff Kalim. And we don't have buff Kalim.

Jamil - Cryo ONLY because I want to make both his and Kalim's opposite elements and have more angst for chapter 4 ! Jamil is polearm user.

Pomefiore:

Vil - I am going to say Electro for the aesthetic purpose, he is a catalyst user.

Rook - From Savanaclaw to Pomefiore his element transfer over and he is a Dendro user. I believe he could use that power to help with his hunts...... He is a bow user, I am biased.

Epel - He seems more into Electro , but after seeing his unique magic, it's going to be Cryo only due to the fact he has little ice crystals. He could be a catalyst user like Vil.

Ignihyde :

Idia - He wouldn't be Pyro because of his fire hair - I am more into Cryo Idia myself . You think he would lift something light, nah, he be lifting a claymore.

Ortho - Eletcro would be his element since he is the only robot person we know in Twst! He is a catalyst user throwing beams of Electro from his hands.

Diasomnia :

Malleus - I'm a die hard Cryo for him.

Sebek - He would have Electro from his one card chapter 7 ( if you know, you know) . Or he could be a Geo????

Silver - Anemo would be his, only because I can see him wanting to be like his father.

Lilia - He would have an Anemo element, this man literally has fought in a war and even probably lost a lot of people in the battles too. He seems like the type of person who would have knowledge too, but not Dendro, like an Anemo type.

As for weapons for them

All of the would have a sword as their weapons, except for Lilia who would have a claymore. He could carry it, his weapon in battle was probably heavy.

Now some bonus here for staff, RSA, and Roll.

Crowley - Anemo - Polearm

Trien - Hydro - Sword

Crewel - Pyro - Catalyst

Sam - Electro - Catalyst

Vargas - Pyro - Claymore

Neige - Hydro - Catalyst + Healer, negative crit rate Kokomi style

Chenya - Electro - Bow

Rollo - Pyro - Polearm

Now this is an Extra EXTRA, Grim + the Yuus

Grim - Pyro for his flames, definitely, catalyst

Yuuken ( Heartslabyul) - Pyro - Sword

Yuuka ( Savanaclaw) - Hydro - Polearm

Yuuta ( Octavinelle) - Pyro - Polearm - I am basing him off Xiangling lol

[nugromancer]

Do you think Qunari* have like. Dentistry for Horns. Like if a kid's horn starts growing in towards the head they make a corrective brace for it so it curves back out.

Do you think there's Qunari that do this but to change the shape of their horns for aesthetic or for more deadly horn usage. Not bc they're going around headbutting their enemies or each other (I think that'd be discouraged bc it's kind of stupid and close-range compared to swords/easy for them to get stuck, etc) but as a back-up weapon/defence sorta deal.

That said it'd probably make more sense for them to just cut it off and replace it kind of like how Taash has that crystal horn going on.

But I like the idea of Qunari manipulating their horns to be slimmer/wider/have a cool shape. I wonder how painful it'd be to carve designs into the horns.

*Qunari as in People With Horns including but no limited to: The Qun, Tal-Vashoth, and Vashoth.

[confessioncivilization]

hi im here with some pvpciv headcanons, regarding the sword designs :3 uhh idk how to format this

wooden sword: pretty much just a wooden toy sword, but with sharper edges? when it breaks its usually splintery and would make a good weapon still, but since its broken theres not enough time for it to be useful (before the person dies).

stone sword: relatively basic, the blade is pretty wide. new stone swords are often surprised by how heavy it is compared to wood. breaking is when it cracks or gets super dull. sometimes stone swords customize a little, but since their lives are still pretty short its really not much.

iron sword: they have a ton of customization!!! since iron swords have long lives, they have their swords long enough to decorate them. there are different shapes of blades (my primary "default" shapes are fencing and longswords), like different widths and types of points. i think that a lot of other weapons that disguise as swords would make their iron sword reminiscent of their original weapon, usually by handles and cross guards. (for tridents, the cross guard curves in, parallel to the blade, making up the other 2 prongs of a trident. for bows, the cross guard curves back, making the shape of the bow's limbs, there may be a string connecting them, but it solely for aesthetic reasons and may make holding uncomfortable. for axes, the cross guard flares out into a shape kind of like an axe on either side.) not all other weapons will do this though, depending on how secretive they are trying to be, as well as the fact it may be annoying in a practical sense. i hc that evbo customized his sword a ton when he first ranked up, but during/after his time being "farmed" by the other iron swords, he stopped since it kept getting reset every time he died. when iron swords break, they usually get misshapen/bent, cracked, chipped, etc.

gold sword: gold swords have no customization (not even as an option). this is because they have very low durability, so it would be a waste to customize it (since the gold sword level is a trial/test, everyone has to have the same sword to assess their skill level equally). gold swords can break in a LOT of ways, including but not limited to: bending/warping, snapping, cracking/shattering, the sword kinda just falling apart.

diamond sword: once again, pretty customized. usually has to do with the person's skills (in pvp). most customization is limited to the grip and cross guard, as the blade is made out of crystal (diamond). the base of the grip/cross guard is either gold (coated, interior is a stronger material) or a dark metal (i don't know specifically what it would be). the blade has a pretty rough shape, similar in texture to an arrowhead. when they break they usually completely shatter (kinda representing something in a way idk. hhh)

eternal/netherite sword: the diamond swords were really confused by the fact the eternal sword was still usable, due to it pretty clearly being broken. the blade is, well, broken, and has some fragments floating around despite not being connected. its magical oooooooooooo i dont know enough about the other netherite sword to say anything about it :(

thats pretty much it? idk, might follow this up later if i come up with/remember anything else.

(yes, i did learn sword (and various other weapons) anatomy because of pvp civ. i am very normal about pvp civ. totally.)

-pvp civ lunch person :)

completely forgot to post this sobs

gwuh.. so much detail…. I love it sm

[katyspersonal]

Felicia and Bellclaire knew each other?

WAKE UP GIRL NEW DARK SOULS YURI DROPPED ok ok ok one second let me elaborate hfhhvbhnf

So, basically, their summon locations are connected; one of them they are sharing (Lost Bastille), and their other ones (Amana for Felicia and Drangleic Castle for Bellclaire) are connected throgh their items lore!

Bellclaire is one of the Hollowed Mages from Tseldora, this robe is otherwise exclusively worn by the dudes who kept shooting you near the sand pit lmao. And it is further confirmed by the fact one of her spells is Crystal Soul Spear, a spell that can be created in NG+ from the Soul of Paledrake (Seath) and lorewise originating from Seath.. who kinda possessed the Duke of Tseldora to become cringe so it only makes more sense!

Her other set pieces are Rogue Leggins (clothes of Hollowed thiefs), Lion Warrior Helm (makes sense she put it on, Lion Warriors would be on her way upon leaving Tseldora) and Creighton's Chain Glowes (assume just Mirrah stuff, but this particular one should be ignored I think, feels same as Sceptical Old Man wearing Gehrman's pants aka just aesthetic item)! I think the robe should be THE focus here, all things considered

^^^ Another thing about her is that she has this Chime, but doesn't use a single Miracle, nor even has it just unused in her data! This coincides with how Vendrick kept clerics just for ceremonial purposes and not for actually doing the cleric stuff, and Tseldora was in service of Vendrick as part of Drangleic, so that further points Bellclaire towards just being in his service 🤔

Possibly, she went on her pilgrimage after becoming cursed, rather than staying back and waiting for the curse to take its toll like fellow mages, but wasn't able to run far enough; her summon sign in Lost Bastille is in the cell (with broken bars), seems like she was captured and imprisoned.

Another thing is.. she is not a Hollow! I know the invaders and summons in Dark Souls 2 use like the same 7 preset faces, but there IS a data for Hollow character (annoying three characters fought in Shulva as bosses use it for example)! The thing is, her weapon is Staff of Amana, a weapon that has nothing to do with Drangleic/Vendrick/Tseldora/etc!

But you know what IS interesting about Amana? Right, it has an Altar with a Milfanito at it that allows to restore humanity even without a Human Effigy! It exists for this purpose, and it is possible that THIS is how Bellclaire healed from Hollowing! This staff might have been something she picked on her way! Though this particular staff also scales when you are a human and gives penalty when you are Hollow, so maybe it gives her additional motivation to hold onto her humanity!

At the same time, Felicia's summon signs are in Amana and in Lost Bastille, not far away from Bellclaire but outside of jail cells! Okay, so about her now:

She is wearing a Knight Set (all pieces have the same description), and appears that she is not an Undead since she seeks "official" Knightship in Drangleic!

I need to also clarify about her shield, because it is actually a mistake; the descriptions of Greatshield of Glory and Tower Shield are clearly mixed upon development and it was never corrected:

You can clearly see it is a mistake as the Knights serving Vendrick, who are modeled after his knight Syan, use this shield too:

Her weapon is also Heide Greatlance! (Sorry I don't have a screenshot copied) So, she has a Heide Greatlance, but also a shield she uses is found IN Heide after Old Dragonslayer battle near Targray (the Blue Sentinels guy), and the set she uses is found in the path that connects Heide and No-Man's Wharf!

Note I don't necessarily take it as her dying around, especially with how in Dark Souls 2 every other NPC just conveniently has exact replica of their set and weapon to reward the player with XD (looking at YOU, Elden CRING killing Ansbach and Thiollier to give us their sets!!!). Just more like telling the story through items locations and environment. So, perhaps she tried to become a Blue Sentinel in her pursuit for knightship, but failed.... or maybe, rather, got sidetracked!

No-Man's Wharf got under control of Vendrick, and now they are the ones responsible for capturing Undead and sending them into Lost Bastille! So how about this idea: Felicia found, maybe by accident, path to No-Man's Wharf and by effect the Lost Bastille, and was NOT having what she found out there! If we assume she wanted to join Blue Sentinels, she must have had strong sense of justice or wish to help people.. and, well, Undeads captured and locked away is not nice. Her title is also literally Felicia the Brave, she would not sympathize with peoples fear of the Undead much if at all! Especially since even becoming Hollow doesn't automatically mean being a danger to society, across the trilogy we meet some characters who are Hollow but harmless and even still having their wits and memories, just weird at worst!

So, Felicia was the one to crash Bellclaire's cell open to free her, and accompanied her into Amana to seek restoration of her humanity since Felicia has a summon sign in Amana and Bellclaire has the Staff of Amana and isn't Hollow despite she should be!!! She was not giving up the hope for Undeads and encouraged her to seek help, seeing she yet had wits and deserved a chance instead of rotting in the jailcell! Maybe not even just Bellclaire? Maybe Felicia released every imprisoned Undead that was not yet completely beyond help and put them in the boat away from here, believing they could be helped. There is hope for the Undead (The Pursuer disapproves of THE naivety and optimism sooooOOOO hard lol).

I just think this is so nice tbh hfhruybf. Though Bellclaire is a summon in Drangleic Castle too. I wonder if Hollowing did erode some of her memories still, and she was looking for familiarity like Lucatiel ;-; Or Millicent in ER, actually. Though Felicia might have been looking for Drangleic Castle too because of the Greatshield of Glory, as true knight calling.... until she didn't. Or could have picked a fight with people there? In either case, hers and Bellclaire's paths might cross even beyond their shared adventure (that has no business being as cute as it is)

I also wonder if Targray still wonders where did she go. Maybe worries about her since she isn't an Undead; if she dies then she DIES. He doesn't know she simply has 5 seconds timespan gdhtjhgjh XD

_________________

P.S.: AKTYALY Bellclaire is one of those Fromsoft's trademark GNC characters! The thing is, she is wearing a MALE robe; female variant of this clothing is black!

^^^ White (male)

^^^ Black (female). @val-of-the-north Iirc Dark Souls 2 also has a male character wearing the black variant, right? Based and valid tbh. Common Dark Souls 2 W

P.P.S.: Literally no one asked about this but have this too anyways I g:

[mollysunder]

How Viktor and Ekko are Stuck in the Wrong Genre for Zaun

I've been meaning to say this for a while but Viktor as the Machine Herald and Ekko as characters are out of place in Zaun. I don't necessarily mean their motivations don't fit Zaun, I mean the execution of their character concepts don't fit Zaun's genre.

What's that supposed to mean? It means that one of the key differences that sets Zaun and Piltover apart is that Zaun takes on the biopunk genre, while Piltover occupies the steampunk genre. While the two concepts have some room for interchangeability, steampunk relies purely on machinery while biopunk is very clearly defined by a focus on the advancement of biological, biochemical, genetic experimentation. It's the reason why the early roster of Zaun's champions are mutants, plus the guy who made them mutants. We can even see that Arcane's writers decided to integrate more champions better into the genre by officially turning Jinx into a Shimmer mutant, enhanced strength and all.

Champions like the Machine Herald fit awkwardly into Zaun because his character utilizes elements that better fit Piltover. The Machine Herald advocates that for humans to transition their flesh into machine augments as a means to erase human flaws caused by the dysfunction of biology. That's all well and good, Zaun can take in another mad scientist but the way he brings his ideology to Zaun is incompatible with the way Zaun operates.

Viktor asks the people of Zaun to change but they already change themselves (with augmentations) through chemtech! In Zaun, chemtech is their accessible alternative to hextech that anyone can use to not just power their machines, but their bodies as well. The process of change in Zaun is a dual experience for flesh and metal to become more similar in function together rather than abandon one mode for the other. Shimmer in Arcane is a new extension of what chemtech is capable for Zaun's biopunk horizons. Meanwhile Viktor's Glorious Evolution doesn't incorporate any of these key aspects of Zaun society, which more closely embodies the steampunk aesthetic and ideology of Piltover. It's no surprise the only other champions that experiment with transhumanism with pure machinery, Orianna and Camille, are both from Piltover.

With Ekko his motivations are once again very Zaun oriented, but the means by which he uses to help other is very out of place for Zaun. I'm specifically talking about his weapons. None of Ekko's weapons incorporate chemtech into them, in fact his signature power as a champion, time travel, is largely divorced from Zaun. Ekko's Z-Drive is powered by a shattered hex crystal which serves to power his other time based abilities. Even Ekko's melee weapon is a clock hand from Piltover, making his color scheme powered by hextech blue clash with Zaun's chemtech green. At least in Arcane they've given him chemtech in the form of his hoverboard.

It's just do odd that these two characters defined by their explicit desire to help Zaun are also given traits that alienate them from the region.

[llunar-wing]

⚣ Choice 💎

⚣💎 A/N → New original post on Patreon. This will be a three-part series. Little fun fact, I use a random picker wheel to help me decide what I should write my stories about and where I should set them. The choices for this one were the tropes of a Playboy paired with a Fake Relationship set in a Big City. You'd think something like that would be easy, but I went through so many drafts of this, it was crazy. Anyways, hope you all enjoy! Also a reminder! The full story will be released exclusively on my Patreon first and will remain exclusive until my next story comes out, which means...Karma will officially be released in full publicly! You'll be able to find it on my Wattpad and Patreon! WARNINGS: | Forced Touching & Light Sexual Harassment | Possessive/Jealous Behavior | Class/Economic Disparity | Emotional Angst | Sexual Angst | Sexual Themes |

⚣💎 Summary → An Omega faking romance with an Alpha who’s one part charm, two parts ego, and a dash of possessiveness? What could go wrong? Oh, just everything—including a will that demands a wedding. Cue the drama, awkward slow dancing, and a lot of “I swear this is just for show” moments. Welcome to the chaos, where love might just sneak in—if one doesn’t kill the other first!

⚣💎 Words → 33.3K

⚣ ENJOY 💎

Tres Bellamonté, one of the world’s most luxurious and exclusive hotels, sat high on a hillside, overlooking the glittering cityscape below. Its castle-like architecture glowed against the evening sky, a beacon of wealth and privilege. The hotel’s secluded location only added to its allure, accessible to those whose wealth placed them in a tax bracket most could only dream of. Tonight, it played host to the illustrious Sinclair family—practically royalty among the upper echelons of society—for their annual charity gala, an event so exclusive it made the Met Gala look like a neighborhood potluck. Even the Kardashians had to pull strings just to snag an invite.

Inside, the ballroom was a spectacle of extravagance. Crystal chandeliers hung from gilded ceilings, casting a warm, radiant light over the polished marble floors. Every surface seemed to glisten, from the delicate gold accents on the walls to the glassware that sparkled beneath the ambient glow. Guests moved about with graceful ease, the soft murmur of refined conversation mingling with the delicate strains of live classical music.

If anything, the funds spent on hosting this evening alone could probably cover donations to every charity they claimed to support—enough to last each one a decade, at least.

Waitstaff glided through the crowd, offering trays of delicately arranged canapés—caviar on blinis, truffled foie gras, and delicate lobster medallions—paired with flutes of the finest champagne. The scent of these gourmet delights mixed with the subtle fragrance of fresh floral arrangements, creating an ambiance that was both decadent and refined.

Guests moved through the space with practiced ease, as if events like these were nothing but a day job to them. They walked around in heels that could pay the rent of ten people, wore earrings that could be classified as weapons, and flashed smiles as real as Jennifer Lopez's humility. Flowing gowns adorned with intricate beadwork and shimmering sequins, and tailored tuxedos that spoke of bespoke craftsmanship would be tucked into garment bags and hidden in closets, never to see the light of day again after tonight.

Everyone's outfits, a spectrum of colors that complemented the event’s white-and-gold theme, came in second only to those of the gala's hosts and guests of honor. Members of the Sinclair family and their partners for the evening were adorned in the striking combination of white and gold. The rest of the attendees, while no less elegant, wore hues that played off the aesthetic of the evening, creating a visual feast that matched the grandeur of the setting.

Standing near the grand entrance, Jethro Thorne shifted uncomfortably, surveying the opulent ballroom through narrowed eyes. Dark curls framed his face, softening the lines of his jaw, while a carefully groomed beard added a hint of ruggedness to his otherwise smooth features. His rich, warm brown skin glowed subtly under the light, accentuating his toned arms and the fullness of his frame—rounded and firm shoulders tapering to a defined waist. Jethro’s lean build leaned more toward athletic than delicate, but tonight’s outfit—a white and gold ensemble chosen by one of the many stylists he had assigned to him—seemed intent on emphasizing his curves over his muscles. 

The fitted vest hugged his torso snugly, the gold accents drawing attention to the cinched waist and the contrasting fabric that wrapped around his hips. His slacks, while sharply tailored, clung almost too tightly around his thighs and backside, accentuating his rounded, shapely figure in a way that felt distinctly revealing. The gold-and-white design, while elegant, seemed to catch the gaze of more than a few guests as they lingered, curiosity barely masked by politeness.

He held a glass of sparkling water, gripping it like a lifeline, though he hated the stuff. But in a place like this, it was the only beverage he could stomach—the kind of event where everything had to bubble or come in a shiny bottle, because, apparently, drinking anything flat might as well have been the equivalent of drinking tap water.

And this was why he wasn’t meant for these kinds of events.

His deep brown eyes scanned the sea of well-dressed Alphas, Betas, and the occasional Omega, all moving effortlessly within a world built on old money and inherited privilege. The kind of privilege that didn’t just open doors—it built new ones, entirely out of reach for most. Compared to the life he’d known, the ease and excess these people exuded was almost grotesque. The more he observed, the harder it was to contain the growing disdain simmering within him.

For someone like Jethro, raised by a father and grandfather who instilled the values of hard work, discipline, and resilience, seeing these people live with lives spoon-fed to them—often on literal silver spoons, probably encrusted with diamonds—was sickening. He remembered every hand-me-down from his older brother Jorge and the way they’d shared everything growing up: the TV, the family computer, even the few video games they could afford as long as the bills were paid. And while he knew his life wasn’t the hardest out there, it made this gilded world feel even more absurd by comparison.

Weekend "outings" were limited to public parks, going to the movies and the local Applebee’s or Chili’s for dinner. Here, though? A weekend for these people meant a last-minute private jet to the coast, reservations at places where a glass of sparkling water could run you $25 and wouldn’t even blink if you ordered a $500 bottle of wine for breakfast, along with childhoods raised on horseback riding lessons and designer nurseries.

He thought back to his grandfather and father doing whatever they could to make sure he and his brother each had at least three gifts for Christmas—most likely from the clearance section, but given with love all the same. Meanwhile, he’d overhear these privileged brats bragging about their endless wardrobes from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, and whatever other brands they dropped with their veneer-polished smirks. His grandfather had made him and his brother volunteer at shelters every holiday season, where they’d watch parents struggle to explain why there was only one, or sometimes no, gift to unwrap. And here he was, surrounded by spoiled pests whining about how their parents didn’t buy them the exact custom sports car they wanted. Hard life indeed.

It made him bristle, seeing the glistening diamonds and custom-made shoes that these guests wore as effortlessly. And for what? Just another evening of excess, where they could show off to each other and feel a little more special than they had yesterday. The whole scene was a spectacle that felt foreign, like he’d somehow wandered onto the set of someone else’s life.

He adjusted the collar of his tailored suit, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on him like that five-tier cake that looked ready to tip over with even the slightest nudge. This party, this crowd, this whole world—it all felt foreign to him, like an outsider looking in.

The opulence, the pretension, the constant undercurrent of judgment—it all conflicted with everything he knew. He had to stand a certain way because he slouched too much, and he had to make sure he knew the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork.

They were both forks! Seriously, what’s the big deal? You pick it up, stab the food, and chew. Either way, it ends in murder committed by teeth. But, of course, that’s not how these prissy snobs saw it.

But, it wasn’t just the champagne that seemed to flow like water to these people, or the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns. It was the constant undercurrent of judgment, the subtle way people glanced his way—curious, assessing. It was one thing for Jethro to feel like he didn’t belong here, these people seemed to go extra hard out of their way to make sure he knew he didn’t belong here with their subtle but shady comments and questions.

They might call it “intrigue” or “curiosity,” but Jethro’s bullshit detector had been finely tuned since childhood, and he’d lost count of how many times he felt the urge to remind these people what curiosity did to the cat. Yet, as much as these pompous peacocks and their holier-than-thou airs grated on him, they weren’t the biggest sources of his irritation tonight—though that didn’t make the temptation to slap half of them into next week any less appealing. Especially that Greenburg guy who felt the need to comment on his ‘shapely’ figure…

The true recipient of Jethro's simmering ire tonight wasn’t one of these overdressed socialites or self-important moguls—but rather, the man at the center of it all, the name everyone in the room had come to see, the reason for this ostentatious display of wealth and power. No, the honor of being the prime source of Jethro's aggravation belonged to none other than the heir to the Sinclair empire, the man whose presence commanded attention and whispered scandal in the same breath: Sebastian Sinclair.

Epitome of wealth and charm, known to the tabloids and general public as America’s Favorite Playboy, Sebastian Sinclair stood by Jethro’s side with a tall, commanding presence, olive-toned skin, and chiseled features sharp enough to make even a nun murmur a soft and breathy “Holy Jesus.” He watched the crowd with detached amusement, his alluring green eyes flicking to Jethro with a faint smirk, clearly entertained by the Omega’s discomfort.

Every time Jethro shifted, trying to put a few more inches of space between them, Sebastian’s hand found its way to the small of his back, pulling him right back into place, as though he were reeling in a wandering puppy. Every shift, every attempt to create a bit of space between them, Sebastian never failed to force him right back to where he was, if not, closer with a firm grip, guiding him seamlessly through the room as if to say, This one’s with me.

Jethro tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the growing discomfort as Sebastian’s hand remained firmly on him, an unyielding presence that left him with little choice but to move in sync with the Alpha’s guidance. Each touch felt heavier than it needed to be, lingering just a second longer, drawing him closer in a way that felt far more intimate than necessary. As they navigated the room, Sebastian’s fingers pressed subtly yet deliberately into his back, their warmth almost daring Jethro to pull away—if he even could. Every subtle pull, every guiding nudge, seemed to blur the line between mere performance and something more unsettlingly real.

Leaning in close, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear, he murmured, “Would you relax?” his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air between them. “You’re acting like you haven’t done this before.”

Jethro raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right, because I’m totally in my element here, mingling with the high and mighty. But hey, I guess some of us just haven’t mastered the art of the smug smile and firm handshake.” He cast a pointed look at Sebastian. “Then again, this is your world, isn’t it?”

Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed on him, amusement sparking in his glimmering green eyes as his lips curved into that maddening, self-assured smirk. “And tonight, it’s yours too,” he murmured, his hand slipping down to rest at the small of Jethro’s back. The touch was warm and undeniably possessive which was strange and confusing for the Omega, but also a gentle yet unyielding reminder of the part they were both playing—a part Sebastian seemed to relish far too much and that Jethro was getting sick of.

“Would you cut it out?!” Jethro hissed under his breath, slapping the Alpha’s wandering hand that had grazed his backside one too many times tonight.

Sebastian’s smirk only deepened when Jethro slapped his hand away, his full lips curving into a grin that radiated a mixture of mischief and unapologetic confidence. His light, piercing eyes—somewhere between hazel and green—held a glint of amusement, an almost predatory gleam beneath thick, dark brows and long lashes that gave his gaze an intensity impossible to ignore. His curls framed his face, adding to his allure and highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the boldness of his mustache—a feature that, along with his high cheekbones and naturally sun-kissed skin, completed a look that effortlessly commanded any room he walked into.

The Alpha’s hand didn’t stray far; it drifted down again, this time lingering on the smooth lines of Jethro’s fitted vest, his fingers tracing along the structured seams that hugged Jethro's silhouette with a bold elegance. The vest’s gold accents glinted under the chandelier lights, emphasizing the shapely curves it sculpted against Jethro’s frame. Sebastian’s fingers finally settled with a possessive grip at Jethro’s waist, his touch firm and teasing, pressing into the tailored fabric as if staking a tacit mark. Each calculated caress was a reminder of Sebastian's authority—one the Alpha seemed all too pleased to assert, leaving Jethro fighting to keep his frustration in check, even as a confusing warmth blossomed within him.

“Would you stop that?” Jethro hissed, his voice low but tense with irritation. The way Sebastian’s touch lingered, just barely restrained, made his skin prickle with an uneasy thrill he didn’t want to admit. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Sebastian’s gaze sparkled with quiet authority as he leaned in, his lips hovering so close that Jethro could feel the warmth of his breath. “Relax,” he murmured—a gentle word cloaked in an unmistakable command, the kind of soft-spoken order that left little room for defiance. His fingers pressed a bit more firmly at Jethro's waist, a subtle yet undeniable claim, one that didn’t go unnoticed by the lingering gazes around the room. For their benefit, Sebastian offered a polite, indifferent smile, his expression as effortless as if this display of dominance were the most natural thing in the world.

Jethro’s breath hitched, his immediate impulse to push back clashing with his body’s instinctive urge to submit, a primal response embedded deep within him as an Omega. The unyielding pressure of Sebastian’s touch awakened something unsettling, a strange pull to yield, to soften under the Alpha’s dominance. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his body responded, didn’t want to admit that some maddening part of him craved the firm steadiness of that grip. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet Sebastian’s gaze for just a second before looking away, struggling to conceal the simmering frustration—and the faint, unbidden confusion now tangled with it.

As they moved deeper into the crowd, the Alpha’s hand remained at the small of Jethro’s back, exerting a barely-there pressure that nonetheless managed to steer him effortlessly. It was light, almost delicate, but every brush of Sebastian’s fingers sent a ripple of awareness down Jethro’s spine, reminding him of the part they were playing tonight. 

Sebastian was in the midst of entertaining a small crowd of admirers, his deep voice smoothly recounting a story that blended their shared past with exaggerated romanticism. “It all started when we were just kids,” Sebastian said, flashing a charming smile at the group. “Our grandparents were the best of friends—my grandmother adored the jewelry Jethro’s grandfather crafted. We practically grew up together, and years later, we reconnected after my grandmother's unfortunate passing when I had to pick up something she left at his shop, which Jethro now runs. Seeing him again and how tirelessly he works to keep his grandfather's legacy alive resonated deeply with me, and I knew right then that he was the one.”

The admiring crowd hung on to Sebastian’s every word, their eyes flicking between him and Jethro with a mixture of envy and fascination, as though they were witnessing a romance worthy of legends. 

Truthfully, he was surprised he’d managed to keep up this act as long as he had, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out—especially with the subtle looks and veiled comments certain guests kept throwing his way, their smiles tight and eyes assessing even as they laughed along to Sebastian’s romantic tale.

“Oh, that’s so like Sebastian, investing in our less fortunate communities.”

“I always knew the day would come when Sebastian would settle down, but I pictured him with someone a bit more…fitting to his lifestyle. This must feel like a fairytale for you, doesn’t it?”

“I’m surprised he didn’t choose someone with a touch more femininity. Don’t take it the wrong way, dear; you’re charming and easy on the eyes, but even for an Omega, I’d have thought Sebastian would want someone a bit more delicate–a proper woman, if you will.”

And this was exactly why he wasn’t meant for these kinds of events.

With every dig and backhanded compliment, Jethro forced himself to swallow his irritation, keep on that polite smile, and nod along as though their words didn’t graze him in the slightest. And, mostly, they didn’t. He couldn’t give one fuck, two fucks, blue fucks, or a yellow fuck about what these Botox-pumped snobs thought of him.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to just stand there and let these people take cheap shots without a word in return. He’d love nothing more than to tell them they looked like the unfortunate love child of Voldemort and the Joker, or that no amount of designer wear could mask the lack of personality—or, more likely, the lack of anything in their pants worth bragging about.

The casual touches, the glances, the carefully crafted words—all of it fell perfectly into place, an intricately woven performance that Sebastian handled with ease. Jethro, on the other hand, felt as though he were merely a prop, his role to nod and smile in all the right places, maintaining the facade that he was truly enamored. It was a strange kind of entrapment, a surreal blend of duty and discomfort, made only more bewildering by the faint thrill of being the object of such attention, even if it was just for show.

He was supposed to be the doting partner, after all—loyal, enamored, content in the grasp of the wealthy heir. The whole thing felt absurd, a scene better suited for a play than real life. And yet here he was, a theatre nerd unwittingly cast in a role he was desperate to escape but found himself slipping into all too easily.

Something in the universe is out to get him.

Sebastian led Jethro seamlessly through the glittering ballroom, pausing here and there to introduce him to various guests. His arm remained snug around Jethro's waist, the warm, muscular hold both guiding and binding him to the Alpha’s side. It was as though Sebastian wanted to make his presence unmistakable, silently declaring to the room that the Omega was his—even if just for show. Jethro could feel the weight of each stare that followed them, every curious and envious gaze making him even more conscious of the Alpha’s touch.

As they stopped to greet another circle of admirers, Jethro took a moment to steal a glance at Sebastian’s suit. Tonight, the Alpha wore a custom-tailored masterpiece that left nothing to subtlety. A lavish gold and cream ensemble, it practically shimmered under the warm light, drawing the eye with intricate baroque patterns woven across the fabric. The high-lapel jacket was a work of art in itself, embroidered with elaborate gold designs that wrapped around his frame like delicate vines. Each swirl and embellishment seemed to be crafted to highlight Sebastian’s broad shoulders and tapered waist, the jacket hugging his powerful build in a way that looked almost painted on. The polished fabric reflected hints of the ballroom's ambient glow, casting a soft sheen as he moved with the grace of someone who owned the space—and probably everyone in it.

The vest beneath the jacket matched the decadence, with gold piping that traced down the sculpted lines of his torso, creating a striking contrast against the crisp white shirt underneath. A champagne-colored bow tie completed the look, adding a touch of playful elegance to an otherwise commanding outfit. Every detail was designed to perfection, from the slight shimmer of his pocket square to the subtle glint of the watch on his wrist. Sebastian’s attire radiated both wealth and authority, reinforcing his position at the pinnacle of this social sphere.

One of the guests, a silver-haired Alpha with a sharply tailored suit and a smile that barely touched his eyes, stepped forward, exuding an air of restrained authority. “Sebastian,” he greeted smoothly, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, as though he’d been waiting for just the right moment to make his presence known. “It’s been too long. And who is this?”

Sebastian’s arm tightened ever so slightly around Jethro’s waist, a subtle but unmistakable display of possession. With that easy, practiced smile that seemed to put everyone around him at ease—or, more accurately, on edge—he turned his attention fully to the silver-haired Alpha. “Always a pleasure, Charles,” he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. He gestured toward Jethro with a casual elegance, his expression unreadable save for a faint glimmer of amusement in his light, piercing eyes. “This is Jethro Thorne, my partner.”

Sebastian’s arm tightened ever so slightly around Jethro’s waist, a subtle but unmistakable display of possession. With that easy, practiced smile that seemed to put everyone around him at ease—or, more accurately, on edge—he turned his attention fully to the silver-haired Alpha. “Always a pleasure, Charles,” he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. He gestured toward Jethro with a casual elegance, his expression unreadable save for a faint glimmer of amusement in his light, piercing eyes. “This is Jethro Thorne, my partner.”

The word hung in the air with calculated weight, its meaning leaving little room for misinterpretation. Jethro stiffened, his polite smile wavering for a brief second as he felt every gaze shift to him, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism. The Omega met Charles’s assessing stare with a practiced calm, hoping it hid the simmering irritation he felt at being so pointedly scrutinized.

Charles inclined his head, the sharp smile never quite reaching his eyes. “A pleasure, Mr. Thorne,” he drawled, though his tone held an edge that made it clear he was evaluating every inch of him. “Sebastian certainly knows how to pick his company.”

Jethro’s polite smile tightened, his fingers subtly digging into the glass he held, resisting the urge to say something that would surely shatter this meticulously cultivated image Sebastian wanted him to maintain. “Likewise,” he replied, his voice even but with a hint of frost that he hoped conveyed his disinterest in this thinly veiled appraisal.

The conversation continued, with Sebastian deftly guiding it away from anything too personal, smoothly deflecting Charles’s intrusive questions with the ease of someone who had long mastered the art of charming deflection. Jethro couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the Alpha’s skill; Sebastian was clearly in his element here, navigating the conversation with practiced precision, his responses polished and effortless.

Later in the evening, Jethro found himself standing alone on one of the grand balconies connected to the ballroom, overlooking the sweeping view of the cityscape below. The cool night air brushed against his face, offering a brief reprieve from the stifling opulence inside. Far below, the city lights sparkled like scattered jewels, winding rivers of headlights tracing through the darkened streets, while the towering presence of Tres Bellamonté loomed over the hillside, glowing against the night sky. The hotel’s turrets and castle-like architecture only enhanced the feeling of being high above it all, isolated from the world in a gilded fortress.

Jethro inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp night air as he tried to release the tension coiled tight in his shoulders. It was rare to find a moment alone in this gilded world, where the only thing he could hear was the faint hum of the city below, a world that felt infinitely more real than the one he’d just left inside. But, his moment of quiet didn’t last long as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, he retrieved it, half expecting to see Sebastian’s name, but instead, his store attendant, Isaac’s contact glowed on the screen.

He hesitated, the surprise quickly giving way to concern. Isaac rarely called him outside of work hours unless something was amiss. Stepping further into the shadows, he answered, his voice low. “ Hey, Isaac. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Hey Jethro,” Isaac’s deep, warm tone was a comfort in the sterile, opulent setting around him even despite the undercurrent of tension to it. “Sorry to bother you while you’re out. Do you have a second?”

Definitely. Anything that kept him out of that suffocating room filled with over-perfumed, self-important imbeciles was well worth his attention.

"Yeah, of course. Everything alright, Isaac? Did something happen at the store?” Jethro asked, bracing himself for bad news and hoping it wasn’t about a robbery or something worse. “The store’s fine,” Isaac replied, though his tone held a cautious edge. “But…your brother stopped by.” Jethro sighed. Fantastic. He’d take a robbery over Jorge’s tantrums any day.

Jethro took a steadying breath, already bracing himself for whatever headache Jorge had brought with him this time. “Lovely. What did he want?” he asked, keeping his tone as light as he could manage despite the initial sarcasm in it.

Isaac hesitated on the other end, a pause thick with unspoken words. “Well, he was...looking for you. Seemed a bit irritated when he found out you weren’t here. Tried asking questions about the store’s finances. I didn’t give him anything, obviously, but he wasn’t exactly pleased when I told him his access had been cut off.”

Jethro clenched his jaw. “Sounds like Jorge.” He could practically see his brother’s scowl, the way he’d stand too close, trying to intimidate his way into getting what he wanted. “He didn’t break anything, did he?”

Isaac gave a low chuckle, though there was a hint of irritation beneath it. “No, he was smart enough to keep his fists to himself. But, can’t say the same for his language. He had few choice words about for me getting in his way as he described. Called me everything everything you can think of under the sun from a 'nosy pawn' to your little lapdog.” There was a subtle edge to Isaac’s voice, a hint of restrained annoyance as he recounted Jorge’s scathing remarks.

Jethro raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with dry humor. "Surprised he didn’t reserve some of his vocabulary for me."

“Oh, he had plenty for you, don’t worry,” Isaac replied, his voice carrying a trace of tension masked with humor. “But my mother taught me better than to repeat that kind of language. Especially in the presence of of others.” His tone held a touch of dry amusement, though the tension underneath was unmistakable.

Jethro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He could easily picture the look on Jorge’s face—the narrowed eyes, the tight set of his jaw, his meticulously groomed features twisted into that familiar scowl. With his angular jawline and piercing gaze, Jorge had a striking presence, especially when he turned on that look, the one that said he was used to getting his way. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything back. You know how he gets.”

Ironically, if they’d grown up with a bit more money, Jethro could easily picture his brother fitting right in with these shallow, paper-thin socialites.

Isaac’s voice softened, an almost playful edge slipping in. “Relax, Jethro. I know how to handle a guy like him without stooping to his level. Let’s just say I reminded him that you’re the one who holds the reins now—and that anyone not respecting that should probably reconsider their approach. He didn’t take it well, but he got the message.” Isaac paused, his tone dipping with a hint of warmth. “But, I wouldn’t be surprised if he came back.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Jethro murmured, already hearing the childish insults and tantrums his brother was known for. “Thank you, Isaac. You can lock up the store and head home if you want. I’ll probably be back hopefully within the next couple of hours.”

Isaac’s voice lingered with an easygoing warmth, though there was a trace of reluctance. “I think I’ll stick around a bit longer, just in case your brother decides to make an encore appearance,” he replied, a quiet resolve in his words. After a beat, his tone softened, taking on a note of genuine concern. “How about you, though? Everything alright on your end? Sinclair behaving himself, or do I need to drive up there?”

Jethro let out a huff of amusement, rolling his eyes despite himself. “I can handle him, Isaac… though, if anyone else decides to throw out another backhanded compliment about my outfit, my body, or whatever superficial nonsense they can think of, you might need to bring my bat from behind the counter.”

As he said it, flashes of the evening ran through his mind—Sebastian’s hand lingering at his waist, his fingers drifting down, pressing possessively into his hip or, more brazenly, giving his backside a casual slap and squeeze. Each intimate, uninvited touch felt like it crossed an invisible line, igniting a simmering mix of irritation and embarrassment on the surface. But beneath it, in places he stubbornly refused to acknowledge, was a flicker of excitement, a thrill he wished he could just ignore. Isaac’s voice, warm and steady on the other end, pulled him back to reality—a grounding presence he hadn’t realized he needed tonight.

Of everyone in that room, Sebastian should count himself the luckiest that Jethro hadn’t thought to bring his bat—because, honestly, he wouldn’t have needed even a hint of temptation to start his baseball career right there, with the smug Alpha’s face as his first swing.

Unbeknownst to him, Sebastian had already entered the balcony, the Alpha’s silent steps going unnoticed as he listened to the soft murmur of Jethro’s voice in conversation. He leaned casually against the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught snippets of the exchange, his jaw tightening ever so slightly at the warmth in Jethro’s tone—a warmth he had yet to hear be directed at himself.

After another brief exchange of reassurances, Jethro ended the call with a sigh, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he tried to savor just a few more seconds of peace. But the moment didn’t last. The soft sounds of footsteps behind him were almost imperceptible, but the sudden shift in the air sent a chill down his spine. When he turned, Sebastian was already there, standing far closer than he’d expected, his gaze fixed on Jethro with an intensity that made his breath hitch.

Jethro fought to keep his expression steady, masking the flicker of surprise with a carefully measured indifference. But inside, his heart was racing, a conflicted mix of unease and a warmth he stubbornly refused to name, swirling in his chest as he held Sebastian’s gaze. The Alpha’s cool, polished exterior betrayed nothing, but there was something else—a charged intensity in his light eyes, a smoldering watchfulness that lingered a heartbeat too long. The faintest hint of a smirk played at Sebastian’s lips, a playful edge that only deepened the unsettling tension between them, as if he was enjoying whatever unspoken power he knowingly or unknowingly—likely the former—held over Jethro in that moment.

“Important call, was it? Careful, babe,” Sebastian drawled, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “People might start to think you’re sneaking off to take calls from a secret paramour. Scandalous, don’t you think?”

There was an almost imperceptible edge beneath the playful tone, but Sebastian’s control was ironclad, letting only the faintest suggestion of something darker slip through his lighthearted facade.

“Hmm,” Jethro replied with an eye roll. “Something I imagine you’d be quite used to.”

Without waiting for a response, he continued, “The call was just some business back at the shop. Nothing major.” His tone was dismissive, making it clear he didn’t intend to elaborate. They might be playing the part of a couple, but that was all it was—playing. Sebastian didn’t need, nor was he entitled to, any further details about his personal life.

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t falter, but something subtle shifted in his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He maintained his easy, controlled demeanor, yet the idea that someone else, someone like Isaac, having more of Jethro’s attention and trust than he did wasn’t a pleasant thought for the Alpha—yet he masked it with practiced ease, though it lingered, buried just beneath the surface.

Jethro’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting to the side in an attempt to ignore the heat radiating from the Alpha, who now seemed closer than ever. The weight of Sebastian’s attention was like an itch under his skin, one he couldn’t scratch without giving away that he felt it at all. But Sebastian was relentless, his tone dripping with playful mischief as he continued.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, clearly reveling in the way Jethro’s patience frayed at the edges, each comment poking at a nerve he could feel twitching. He leaned in slightly, the casual stance concealing a more deliberate purpose, as though he knew exactly what effect he had on Jethro—and enjoyed every second of it.

“Come on now, babe,” Sebastian murmured, his voice a low, teasing hum. “You’re standing here alone, brooding away from all the excitement. Anyone else might think you’re waiting for someone.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, forcing a dismissive chuckle. “Chill on the pet names, would you? And if I am, they’re taking their sweet time getting here,” he replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t waver, his gaze fixed on Jethro with an almost predatory glint. “Oh, don’t tell me I’m cramping your style,” he teased, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you from… better company.”

Jethro scoffed, crossing his arms. “Trust me, anyone else would be a breath of fresh air right now.”

Sebastian’s smirk deepened as he took a deliberate step forward, his broad frame inching closer. Instinctively, Jethro took a step back, only to feel the solid stone of the balcony’s ledge press against his spine, leaving him effectively pinned in place.

Sebastian took a step closer, invading Jethro’s space in that way only Alphas seemed to know how to do. “It’s not so bad, is it? All of this. I think everyone’s taken a liking to you. Even the skeptics can’t help but be charmed.”

Jethro scoffed. “Charmed. Right. Like a snake is charmed by a flute.”

“You’re not a snake, Jethro. You’re a diamond—beautiful and rare.”

“I’m not a jewel, Sebastian. I’m a person. And I don’t appreciate jewelry metaphors.”

“It’s not a metaphor. You really are one of a kind.”

Jethro rolled his eyes. “And suddenly, I’m wondering if you’re getting a little too into this.”

Sebastian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Jethro’s spine. “Maybe I am,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over Jethro’s figure with an intensity that made Jethro’s pulse quicken. “Or maybe it’s just you… looking so innocent and pristine in that outfit. Makes me wonder if the rest of you is as untouched as you look right now.”

Jethro’s eyes narrowed, an incredulous eyebrow lifting as he shot back, “Is that your attempt at subtlety, or did you think that was actually charming?”

Sebastian smirked, unbothered by Jethro’s glare. “Depends. Is it working?” he asked, a glint of teasing mischief in his eyes that bordered on smug satisfaction.

Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver as he took a slow, deliberate step closer, bridging the space between them on the secluded balcony. Jethro felt his back brush against the cool stone ledge, trapped by the Alpha’s nearness and the simmering, almost possessive glint in Sebastian’s eyes—a look that seemed at odds with his otherwise smooth, controlled demeanor. “Relax, Jethro,” he murmured, his voice infuriatingly casual, as if they were alone and not playing this dangerous game in the middle of a high-society spectacle. “You’re wound tighter than that corset they’ve got you in.”

Jethro’s irritation flared instantly, his jaw tightening as he shot back, “Forgive me if I’m not as comfortable as you in this overpriced parade.” He could feel Sebastian’s gaze sweeping over him, lingering on the way his fitted vest hugged his frame, emphasizing each curve and line he’d rather downplay. The Alpha’s eyes drifted with an almost unrestrained focus, catching on the snug fit of his clothes as if trying to brand the sight into memory.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, though a subtle tension remained beneath it, something unspoken shadowing the amusement in his gaze. “On the contrary,” he replied, voice dropping to a warm, velvety murmur, “you look right at home in all that gold. In fact, you’re the only thing here worth admiring.” His gaze trailed down slowly, like he was savoring every inch, before he added with a slight edge, “And I intend to enjoy the view.”

Jethro’s cheeks flushed, an uncomfortable blend of anger and an unwelcome warmth stirring in his chest. “Keep talking like that,” he muttered, barely restraining his irritation, “and people might start to think you’re actually serious about this little charade.”

Sebastian’s chuckle was low and unapologetic, his breath brushing Jethro’s ear as he leaned in, closer than necessary. “Oh, I am serious,” he whispered, his tone carrying a note that was both a dare and a challenge, layered with something deeper and harder to define. “The question is…are you?”

Jethro held Sebastian's gaze, refusing to let the Alpha’s words unnerve him. “I think you’re confusing commitment with convenience,” he replied, his voice a low murmur edged with challenge. “Let’s not pretend either of us are doing this for any reason other than appearance and financial gain.”

Sebastian’s smirk remained, but his eyes flickered with something darker, an intensity that made Jethro’s pulse quicken. “I don’t know, Jethro,” he murmured, his tone dropping to an intimate whisper as he leaned in even closer. “From where I’m standing, this doesn’t feel like just appearances.” His gaze traveled over Jethro’s face, lingering on his lips with a heat that was impossible to ignore.

Jethro’s breath caught for a fraction of a second before he forced a scoff, tilting his chin up defiantly. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who flirts with half the city. Spare me the fake sentiment.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in the narrow space between them. “Oh, believe me, baby, if I wanted to be fake, I’d be a lot less… explicit.” His gaze turned unabashedly suggestive, trailing down to the tailored vest hugging Jethro’s frame. “You’d be surprised at the things running through my mind right now. For instance…” He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed against Jethro’s ear, his next words a crude, whispered suggestion that left no room for misinterpretation.

Jethro’s eyes widened as the words sank in, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. He shot Sebastian a sharp look, his irritation barely masked by the forced calm in his voice. “You’re really pushing it tonight, you know that?”

Sebastian’s hand moved with a smooth, stealthy confidence, slipping onto Jethro’s waist before his grip tightened, grounding them both in a way that felt more like an unspoken command than a casual touch. His fingers pressed firmly, possessively, as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur with a trace of venom carefully veiled beneath its smoothness.

“Interesting choice, slipping away for that call,” he murmured, his tone deceptively light. “I don’t particularly enjoy competing for your attention—especially not with someone who seems all too eager to imagine himself as anything more than a temporary convenience.” He paused, letting the words settle with just enough weight, his gaze flicking to Jethro’s, unreadable yet quietly, pointedly, unwavering. “But I suppose even the unimportant ones can get ideas… if you indulge them enough.”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked back through the glass doors, where a cluster of guests lingered in muted conversation, though one in particular stood out. Tall, well-dressed, and with an air of effortless charm that drew more than a few glances, Marco Greenburg stood near the doorway, his eyes noticeably fixed on the balcony. Marco was a familiar presence in these circles, an Alpha with a family pedigree that ran close to the Sinclairs. Unlike Sebastian, however, Marco’s ambitions were rooted in outshining others rather than maintaining any real legacy���though lately, it seemed his interest in surpassing Sebastian extended beyond business or social clout.

Sebastian’s lip curled in subtle irritation, his hand tightening just enough at Jethro’s waist to pull him a fraction closer. “Looks like some others have also convinced themselves they stand a chance tonight,” he muttered, his voice holding a casual amusement laced with something sharper. “You haven’e been giving anyone any ideas, have you?” Though his words were light, there was an unmistakable edge beneath them, something cold and unyielding in the way his gaze lingered on Marco, and the way his fingers pressed with unspoken dominance into the smaller male’s waist.

Jethro’s gaze narrowed, catching the barely veiled possessiveness in Sebastian’s tone. “You know, for someone who was clear in the beginning this was all just for show, you’re sounding awfully like you’ve forgotten your own words,” he muttered, unable to mask the bite in his words.

Jethro’s gaze narrowed, his voice laced with a hint of defiance as he caught the underlying possessiveness in Sebastian’s tone. “Funny,” he murmured, a subtle edge sharpening his words. “For someone who was so clear at the start that this is all just an act, you’re starting to sound like you’ve forgotten your own rules.”

Sebastian’s smirk held steady, his tone light and laced with mock amusement. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t be letting anyone get the wrong idea—especially not your attentive little storekeeper, and certainly not Marco.” The playful edge in his words softened the warning, but his gaze told another story. His green eyes held a glint that was anything but casual, a subtle flash beneath the hooded lids and thick lashes that hinted at something unyielding. His mustache twitched as his lips curved into a lazy, almost smug smile, but there was a sharpness in his expression, a hint of tension around his jaw, betraying the playful tone he wore like a mask. For a heartbeat, the air between them crackled with a silent authority before the practiced charm slipped back into place, polished and impenetrable.

Before Jethro could gather a retort, Sebastian’s arm slid around his waist, drawing him in until their bodies were flush against one another, the closeness blurring lines that had been unspoken in their arrangement. Jethro’s spine stiffened, an involuntary rush of heat prickling along his skin as he registered the Alpha’s hand resting low, fingers splayed just above the curve of his backside—territorial, unwavering. Every nerve seemed to spark with awareness, a subtle thrill mingling with his irritation as Sebastian’s grip held him in place, unyielding and far too intimate for mere pretense.

“What are you—?”

Sebastian cut him off with a low, appreciative hum, his hand tracing the curve of Jethro’s waist as if testing the fit. “Remind me to tip the tailor extra at your next fitting,” he remarked, his tone light but his grip firm. “He certainly knows how to keep a guy’s eyes on the prize.”

Jethro felt his cheeks burn, a confusing blend of embarrassment, irritation, and a warmth he couldn’t quite shake settling over him. He shot a glare up at Sebastian, his own brown eyes narrowing. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Sebastian only smirked, clearly savoring the effect he was having. “I’ve been told.”

With that, Sebastian turned them around, directing them both back to the main event, putting back on his famous smile while keeping that same hand gripping into Jethro’s waist. The Omega looked up at him with an irritated glare, feeling how the hand crept lower, but Sebastian didn’t meet his gaze, keeping his eyes up and ahead of him.

Sebastian’s hand moved with a calculated, possessive ease as he turned them toward the main ballroom, his fingers slipping confidently to rest just above the curve of Jethro’s backside, a touch that sent a ripple of warmth through the snug fabric of his vest. The Alpha’s fingers pressed just below the small of his back, where the tailored slacks hugged Jethro’s rounded shape, their fit intentionally designed to catch the eye.

Sebastian’s grip tightened subtly, an unspoken assertion that felt as much like a warning as it did a reassurance—a mix of dominance and protectiveness that made Jethro’s pulse spike against his will. The Omega could feel each press of Sebastian’s fingers, a possessive warmth grounding him in a way that was both frustrating and oddly comforting. With that confident smile, Sebastian guided them back into the heart of the event, his arm possessively secure around Jethro’s waist, the silent statement to their audience unmistakable: Jethro was his tonight, an alluring prize wrapped in gold and white elegance, and no one was to forget it.

Jethro shot Sebastian a glare, his irritation evident, but Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed ahead, ignoring the heated look from the Omega at his side. “Relax,” Sebastian murmured, low and smooth, his tone somewhere between gentle and commanding. “Just play the part.”

Jethro gritted his teeth, forcing himself to relax beneath the Alpha's commanding touch, even as the firm grip sent an involuntary tingle through his skin, an uneasy thrill he was reluctant to name. Sebastian’s towering frame and powerful shoulders, wrapped in his opulent white suit that drew every eye in the room, exuding both authority and allure. The suit’s golden embellishments caught the light with each movement, emphasizing his broad chest and tapered waist in a way that seemed crafted to perfection.

As they stepped further into the ballroom, Sebastian’s hand shifted lower, his fingers always skimming just inches away from Jethro’s shapely ass but never taking the final stretch—a teasing touch that felt distinctly possessive, even protective. The subtle press of his hand sent an unmistakable message to the onlookers, a blend of dominance and reassurance that had Jethro’s pulse pounding, his mind a flurry of defiant irritation mixed with something inexplicably warmer.

“Care to dance?” Sebastian asked, his tone casual but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes.

Caught off guard, Jethro hesitated but eventually nodded, aware that declining would only raise questions. He allowed Sebastian to lead him onto the dance floor, the Alpha’s hand finding his waist as they moved together in time with the music. For a fleeting moment, Jethro let the room fade away, his focus shifting to the warmth of Sebastian’s hand and the steadiness of his hold.

But as they danced, a series of unwanted thoughts intruded. This was all just an act, wasn’t it? Yet, why did Sebastian’s touch feel so… anchored, as if grounding him in place? And why did the Alpha’s gaze flicker with a spark of something he couldn’t quite identify? Jethro’s mind buzzed with conflicted emotions—resentment, curiosity, and something dangerously close to longing.

Sebastian, however, seemed oblivious to Jethro’s internal turmoil, his gaze locked onto the Omega with an intensity that sent a shiver down Jethro’s spine. As the dance ended, the Alpha didn’t release him right away. Instead, he leaned down, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear as he murmured, “How about we seal the deal?” His voice held a playful lilt, but there was an edge beneath it, something darker glinting in his eyes that hinted this was more than just a casual suggestion.

They stepped off the dance floor, but before Jethro could fully process what was happening, Sebastian turned him slightly, positioning them where every curious gaze could find them. Then, with a boldness that sent a jolt through Jethro, the Alpha leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips—quick but firm, leaving a charged silence in its wake. Sebastian’s hand drifted lower, fully settling on Jethro’s ass in a way that felt deliberate, as if every onlooker needed reminding of exactly who the Omega was leaving with tonight.

Jethro’s mind spun, his heart racing as he registered the weight of Sebastian’s lips against his, the warmth of his hand, the shock from the crowd around them. The kiss was brief, but it left an indelible mark, a mixture of anger and a flutter of something he refused to name roiling within him. His warm brown skin flushed under the gaze of everyone around them, acutely aware of the whispers and speculative glances that spread like wildfire.

Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, a smug pride radiating from him as he straightened and led Jethro through the crowd. He wore that famous smile, looking pleased not only with himself but also with the reaction he’d elicited from the room—and from Jethro. As they moved, Sebastian’s gaze caught Marco’s in the crowd, the other Alpha’s face unreadable but his eyes tracking Jethro with a mix of curiosity and envy.

Without breaking his stride, Sebastian shot Marco a pointed, victorious look, his hand tightening on Jethro’s waist as if to silently reiterate his claim. The thought of Marco—or anyone else, for that matter—thinking they had a chance with Jethro seemed to irk him more than he’d admit. He almost wished that another Alpha who’d been all too attentive to Jethro, someone with a lovestruck, naive air, had witnessed the display as well.

The evening stretched on with Sebastian glued to his side, his hand never straying far from Jethro’s body, a constant reminder of his presence and his unspoken message to anyone who dared look too long at the Omega. By the time Sebastian finally suggested they leave, Jethro’s patience was wearing thin, his emotions a tangled mess of irritation, confusion, and the lingering heat of that kiss.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one night,” Sebastian murmured, his voice low as he leaned in, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear. “Shall we call it a night?”

Jethro barely trusted himself to speak, nodding in agreement, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom and the endless scrutiny of the crowd. Sebastian took his hand without hesitation, leading him through the sea of onlookers with his head held high, his posture exuding pride and confidence. Jethro could feel the weight of their stares, the whispers that followed them like a trail, while Sebastian appeared unfazed, almost as if he thrived on it.

In that moment, a thought surfaced, one that sent Jethro’s stomach twisting in a strange mix of nerves and exhilaration. For a heartbeat, it didn’t feel like Sebastian was playing a part anymore—and the realization left him both unsettled and unexpectedly drawn in, like a flutter of butterflies he couldn’t ignore.

This story concludes on Patreon...

🌙 | Masterlists | 🌙

🌙 | Asks | 🌙

[txttletale]

bundletober #13: blazing hymn

alright i've fallen behind on bundletober (the series of blog posts where i review and talk about a ttrpg i got in a bundle every day) and am hoping to make up the difference by putting out two entries today. this is the first one, and i'm looking at the mecha-piloting, synthetic-armour wearing, blaspheming-against-God-and-his-angels game blazing hymn by peach garden games.

now sadly this game is not a lyric/blackout poetry game about rewriting church hymns to be about gay sex. someone should make that btw. no it's just about wearing highly advanced battlesuits powered by the song of your heart to kill aliens with weapons of pure energy. which is about as cool.

first off, the layout of this game is unique and stylish. there are hexagons everywhere:

the game puts sparse splashes of dreamy pastel colours amid a constantly shifting set of black and white hexagons. it gives the book a visual identity that is at once both visually distinct and also changing massively from page to page. it's a really cool way to mix things up and keep you wanting to turn the page if just to keep seeing what the next one even looks like.

what's the game about? simple. angels have come to earth to destroy it badly. with the power of song, young people can power specially designed battlesuits, called Hymnals, that when not activated collapse down into crystal necklaces. it's a pretty anime concept--the game is pretty open about being inspired by Evangelion and Symphogear, neither of which i've actually seen--but it's cool as hell. the aesthetics of the layout really help bring the aesthetics of the game itself, of technology and ethereal mysticism merged into one thing, to life.

the game uses a pretty simple three-stat system where you build dice pools with a state relevant to an action and can get a full success, mixed success, or failure, depending on what you roll. your characters have two resources, Health, which is what it sounds like, and Gain, which is essentially magical power. because you can swap Health for Gain and Gain for Health at a 1-1 ratio with no restrictions, i'm not really sure why they're separate things--seems like a missed opportunity to not only simplify the mechanics but also create a strong mechanical narrative element by making Gain the only thing that keeps you going--once your song is silenced, you're out.

to create a character, you pick from one of six unit classes--here's where i'd describe the six classes, but honestly, they don't quite feel distinct enough. a lot of the powers you can pick for each hymnal class feel very similar, or are outright overlapping in a lot of cases. this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the descriptions of the hymnals, while trying to clarify their combat roles, all end up seeming to repeat themselves or say contradictory things. i think some direct ties between those descriptions and their mechanics would have helped--i'd find it a lot easier to remember that, for example, the 05 Xyston type "brutal in combat" if that flavour text was followed by a direct reference to one or more of its abilities. they do all have pretty different stats--which, in a game with a very simple and elegant combat system, means i'm confident they play very differently once you hit the table. but just looking at them, as a prospective player, i struggle to tell the difference.

i don't have that problem with the next character creation mechanic, though, which is choosing the songs you sing to power your hymnal. each song, as well as a thematically appropriate set of stat boosts, also prompts a pair of revealing character questions. they're the kind of mechanic that i want to get my hands on because they make it fun to create characters, giving real mechanical expression to the emotional fundamentals of who they are.

the combat system itself seems really, really good. it's astoundingly simple--you're encouraged to use a map, but there's no fiddly grid or distance tracking, just the ability to move between being Close, Near, or Far from an enemy. it keeps the numbers low to keep it getting silly and doesn't bother with any of the unecessary bookkeeping and fiddliness that plagues TTRPG combat as a whole. no initiative, no separate turns--there's a 'player' turn and a GM turn, and during the GM turn the GM picks from enemy's listed actions until they've done two for each player. players can use their abilities on the GM turn, and the game encourages the GM to take enemy actions that wil lforce them to--so nobody's ever standing around twiddling their thumbs waiting for the whole table to rotate back to them, and having a lot of enemies doesn't mean the players listen to the GM talk for fifteen minutes.

there's two unique mechanics that i think are very interesting-- Civilians and Condemnation. Civilians are--well, exactly what they sound like. on their turn, players can use an action to evacutate up to 5 of them. this extremely small and simple mechanic is fucking genius. so many games tell you they're about saving innocent people, but yet the only mechanical verbs you have to interact with anyone are violent ones. as elaine scarry says in the body in pain:

so in a way i think blazing hymn puts its money where its mouth is in a way very few combat rpgs with emancipatory or heroic aspirations bother. angels are said to attack populated areas--you're sent to preserve life as well as destroy the enemy. it makes the game feel fundamentally different, like despite the questionable ethics of hymnals (after all, they only work on young people, who then have to be sent into deadly combat situations) there is something heroic you can do.

the second cool mechanic is condemnation, a reality-warping toxin that angels use to destroy the places they're sent to. this rocks because it adds a ticking timer to the battlefield, a passive threat that forces the player characters to be proactive. if condemnation gets too high, not only is the fight going to get harder, but civilians are going to die en masse. it's a great piece of game design that gives the GM a great lever to pull for pacing and urgency.

i also really like that one of the steps of the GM turn is to 'change the situation', whether that means something happens in the narrative or something on the map changes (a train arriving is the example the book gives) or more angels attack. in general, one of my biggest complaitns about d&d is that unless a DM takes it upon themselves to design additional mechanics and encounters outside of anything the game actually gives them, combat inevitably turns into two lines of people hitting each other with sticks until one of them dies. i love dynamic, progressing combat, combat where the stakes change moment to moment. and blazing hymn delivers.

anything else? oh yeah, the angel designs are cool as fuck.

god damn. anyway despite a few minor issues with the hymnals themselves, the core of blazing hymnal is fucking good, a nice tight and razor-sharp combat system wrapped up in pulsing pastel crystalline aesthetics. if you like cool anime fights and like having the rules to back it up but hate complexity, crunch, and tedium, this might be the perfect game for you. it's certainly given me a lot of cool design ideas to take foreward into my own projects.

blazing hymn is available for purchase as a digital download through itch.io

[moustacherie]

Ope, here we go again.

The Battlemaster! Poster child of the A Game of Armored Combat box set, this guy has been in my to-do pile for at least a year, but that Davion Guards scheme is just so satisfying to do.

The keen-eyed may notice that it's not quite 1-to-1 with the original plastic. Despite the longstanding aesthetic tradition of giving mechs huge pistol-like armatures for their weapons, I remain a fan of the integrated approach. So... I very carefully carved the gun off of the fist, chopped off most of the pistol structure, and kitbashed it with some Strato Minis bits I had laying around to give it the vibe of the MWO Battlemaster. That was the easy part. The real flex, however, was carving away the remnants of the gun on the fist -- which is one solid plastic piece -- and etching out the panels and finger lines to match the opposite fist. Also I gave it better looking machine guns and and IWM launcher plate.

Also, Army Painter Highlord Blue speedpaint is top-tier for Davion Guards basecoat. Fuck that canopy, though. Canopy jeweling is a skill that as of yet escapes me, but the crystal acrylic technique came through on this one, especially since gravity helped pool it at the lower edges and give it a soft blending effect.

Ope, what's that? A non-canon mech? The Roughneck is a personal favorite of mine. Technically apocryphal due to being an invention by PGI for Mechwarrior Online, much like the Corsair and Sun Spider, I'm a dead sucker for the aesthetic of industrial machines refurbished into military equipment. Ellen Ripley, eat your heart out.

Check that base, too. Zip ties, window screen, toothpicks, and cardstock.

[dailyadventureprompts]

I was thinking about Duergar after listening to Critical Role S1. I don’t care too much for the blatantly evil brush they used but I still want them to be antagonistic. Reading the Explore D&D article on them I took that and looked for inspiration. I thought a blend of the paranoid police state of Stalinist Russia with the political intrigue and back stabbing of imperial Rome. Vast underground cities of brutalist architecture. A culture of conformity, order and a nihilistic outlook. Atheist philosophy cults of the forge or other practical oriented ideologies. Power by any means is a virtue in this society so mages and warlocks are also prevalent. Holidays and celebrations are scheduled well choreographed events. Individuality is scorned. Even hair styles and clothing are limited and enforced by literal fashion police. Gulags are kept well stocked with routine purges of dissidents and a thriving slave trade. All this keeps their cities nearly impenetrable but also undercuts their expansion. Trade with the outside does exist but it’s extremely bureaucratic. They make FANTASTIC concrete.

Footnotes on Foes: Duergar

The problem with the grey dwarves is that they're a little too close to their surface world counterparts compared to the other underdark Wario fantasy races. There's a literal night and day difference between elves and drow , humans and grimlocks, and to a lesser extent gnomes and svirfneblin, but if you looked at surface dwarves (traditionalist, work in metal and stone, warriror culture) there's really nothing all that different about the Duergar other than a grabbag of magic powers and the Duergar being SUPER assholes all the time, while surface dwarves are only assholes some of the time.

I’ve tried a few different versions of the duergar in my writing including mercenary legions of migratory exiles hunting through the underdark looking to conquer territory, and willing collaborators and footsoldiers for illithid colonies, but I think this ask specifically gave me something cool to work with: A focus on Psionics is what ahould seperate the duergar from regular dwarves, with the totalitarian state described above ramped up to its fantasy world extreme by the fact that the secret police can read your mind, and if they can’t find evidence of thoughtcrime they can use mindfuckery to put it there.  The social conformity is seen as a way of detecting rebellious thoughts as if they were social contagion.

This also gives the grey dwarves a distinct aesthetic that is separate from vanilla dwarves: Crystals, be they shaped into weapons or architecture or floating about the heads of psionic casters, which goes to supplement their already textual psychic powers. As an added means of differentiating them, talk about how duergar metalwork is shit, soldiers wearing slave-foundry pig iron while their commanders wield elegantly carved sceptres of nightmare infused rock.

Also, just to have a bit of fun, have the duergar low-key anxious about the existence of the sky, to the point where many of them believe it's a myth made up to scare them as children.

Hooks:

Despite the draconian control they keep over their own populace, the rigors of living in a realm of ever shifting stone require the Duergar to utilize numerous means to secure the territories around their grim cities: Fortress outposts built to control passage in and out of their cavernous realms, psionicly propelled vessels of iron plate that prowl great tunnels like levitating battleships, treaties and client-state contracts with rival and subjugated creatures set up as buffers. Travelling through underdark controlled by duergar is a different sort of dangerous then normal travel in the below.

Escaping from prison before she could be lobotomized, a powerful psion has made it to the surface world with a gang of fellow thought-criminals, working as mercenaries using their unusual skills and eventually forming a rivalry with the party.

The earth writhes. A series of violent quakes cause damage in several cities across the kingdom, setting off numerous small disasters and the appearance of subterranean monsters that'll keep the party and the powers that be busy for weeks. When the cause is eventually determined, it's discovered that in a hunger for more pisonically charged crystals, a duergar warlord has awoken a primordial which now thrashes against its restraints and shakes the world as its pained excavation continues.

Art

[cerestheinterdimensional]

Winners!!

It's quite scuffed but it took me awhile so I wanted to share it here!

keep reading for alts and explanations of the choices I made!

OK so first, Martyn's role was never an after thought, I always planned him to be "observing" the main picture because he isn't really in any duos, at least none that have made it to the end, also he's the only one in his lore who is being harassed by the Watchers!

Border: the poppies and lilacs are for grian and scar, they were actually the first characters I had in mind when I was first planning out this piece in my head! The snow is because of pearl freezing herself in double life, the crystal's because that just to seem most of people's thing for last life/winner scott.

Pearl: I was going to make her part dog and scott part cat, but cat didn't really fit him and I really liked the moth pearl designs I had seen so I made her a moth. I had decided I wanted to show the astronomical signs for the winners, and so I chose what is supposed to be a weird axe, mainly because I really liked people's moon scythes for her, however I wanted to incorporate her most infamous weapon.

Scott: The main "big" decision for him was to make his sign, the stars, an arrow mainly because I wanted him and pearl to parallel, and because of what might be his most infamous weapon.

Grian: I wanted him and scar to parallel so I decided that they would have poppies and lilac, just in different places. I made him birb because. I got the idea for his shawl mainly because of @cherrifire's thumbnail for the third life compilation and then I thought it would be a great place to put not only a sun reference, but a watcher reference.

Scar: I'm not sure how obvious but I gave him real tears while scott and pearl have fake ones, this is because pearl and scott are supposed to be more stain glass window esq and their tragedy for when they won was, quite obviously, a past season and scar's is from this very season. The reason he is even crying to begin with is because he finally is reunited with grian in the "winner's club". Grian isn't crying mainly because I'd say his character has "moved on" and is putting those days behind him so he can focus more on helping out the life members. decided to give his shawl my favorite of his signs proposed, the earth. Tbh I don't think there is a particular reason except for the fact that a few animatics convinced me and I like the aesthetic of it.

Martyn: while his role and pose in general wasn't an after thought, his sign was. I had gotten to his flat colors and was like "oh. shit.", as to my horror I realized I had forgotten to add any signs of, his sign so I just decided to throw it onto the back, had I not forgotten, it probably would have been an earing. Also I chose mars because that's the only one I've really heard for him, and because of the roman god war.

If anyone has read all this thank you so much 😭😭 overall I'm oddly conflicted with this piece because it was quite a lot for what I usually do and I think a good bit I did really well, at least for me, however I also think I rushed a few bits to much, especially martyn :/ oh well!

[hydropotato]

So I've been playing Warframe for about 100 days.

I think that should be a pretty decent amount of time for me to get a feel for this game, and well? Yes, but actually no. This game is, for lack of clearer initial description, Amazing.

I first heard of Warframe ages ago from friends playing it. Didn't think much about it. Then I heard We All Lift Together, and added it to my Spotify playlist because it rocks. Didn't think much about the game at that point either. And then one day, I saw a group of my friends playing it and streaming on Discord. "Decree"? "Secrets lie deep within the undercroft; the paradox gives us a means to extract them"? Girl with a skirt on a floating skateboard, firing bubbles at enemies and it kills them?

I was sold. I thought this is bonkers, I gotta check that out. But there was more.

I can't begin to really describe my experience starting off. You get to pick from three frames (sorry, not Loki, the future is now old man), and then you get to pick some starter gear. Every option you forgo in favour of the other becomes available later on, but I didn't know that. I was just stealthily nailing baddies to walls with my Paris and clumping hoards together with Mag's Magnetise, trying to learn how to bullet jump. Days became weeks, and I was unlocking new planets like it was no big deal. Well, it was. I had to learn how to make my gear and abilities work together (like using Pull to group enemies at my feet and then whacking them with my Bo), how to avoid Sentients' spinning beam attacks, how to mod my gear so that I wouldn't die immediately. Now and then I'd stumble upon other random players in public lobbies; you'd get the Titanias, the Wukongs, the Mirages, all speeding to the finish line before I knew what was happening. At some point I thought to myself, I should really go for another Warframe just to explore my options. Citrine stood out to me (her rock fires rainbow beams, and she's a solid support that has good damage potential), and she wasn't too difficult to gain access to.

Then came the farming. Getting Citrine's components required you to do waves of a Mirror Defence mission up to multiples of 4. I still remember clearly the dismay upon reaching round 3 for the first time, only for my teammates to all extract. I tried to protect the crystals on my own, only for the second one to get destroyed at the very last second of wave 4. I was distraught. It took me much begging in different friend groups for friends to accompany me to the later rounds, to finally get all her parts. It was then that I discovered how powerful a frame like Frost or Gara could be, but Frost, despite being easier to get, just didn't stand out to me aesthetically. So my next goals were Gara and Garuda. But for now Citrine. And Citrine continues to be my main.

I don't really want to explain every single thing that happened, but I got Garuda, got Yareli, though omg she's so fun lemme get her signature weapon, spent days skating across Orb Vallis for that bubble gun,

At some point I got a Kuva Lich, accidentally made it rank 5, killed it on my own somehow, then got a Sister of Parvos (Sleeping in the Cold Below is such an awesome song by the way), finished The New War, cleared the Star Chart, and unlocked the Steel Path.

I haven't even mentioned The Duviri Paradox, which is what I was referencing at the start of this post. That gamemode is so fun, even if all the premade builds for gear and frames are frankly dogwater that only works if

a. You're running normal mode, or

b. You're playing Rhino so it doesn't matter how he's modded, you just don't die and buff everyone

So yeah. This game rocks. It's massive, it's free to play (you can get the paid-for currency by selling stuff to other players if you want to spend platinum), and it's really worth getting into. No daily obligations, the game just waits for you. That, and there's plenty of time gates, so I felt motivated to take breaks, naps, and just relax. Even the dailies on the Nightwave (a battlepass but 100% free) have this system where once you complete the existing ones, any quests you missed from previous days/weeks reappear for you to complete (marked with the word 'Recovered). I could max out the Nightwave despite having started Warframe halfway into it.

Now, I do have some issues with it, though. Host Migration is probably the most annoying of issues, and I genuinely think that the game should just leave you at the previous host's instance, regardless of ping. Sure, if you were lagging you still will be lagging when they leave, but it'll be uninterrupted, you won't lose all your active abilities, I dunno. I just think it would work more smoothly.

Also.

Can they please rework Wukong? He appears in every mission. It's tiring. Give him a higher skill floor or something. Maybe make him targetable in cloudwalker, I dunno. This game is too much of a sandbox for players to be funnelling into one meta. We gotta encourage people to be more creative.

Also, make Arbitration drones enter the rift when they float into Cataclysm. They're the only thing that annoys me as Limbo in Arbies. Please and thank you.

[lunartearrose]

may you yap..about your..doublevin.. ⁉️

Yippeeee i get to speaketh!!!!!! Hold onto your but this will be a bit long!!!!

OK SO back when they meet like first first met pre rank king. Vintage got his teammates by beating the ink out of them at rank mode! Double didnt think a shrimp and his sister could beat him and honestly had a sort of rider mindset that he could be the only good at rank guy on the team to make things work and like. Bet his whole position as leader of his own team for the fight against vintage. We can even go yugioh villain mode and say he used to like to be an edgelord and break people's main weapons if he won bets against them

Of course double gets his shit absolutely wrecked in a 1v1 and got absorbed into the xblood team. At the point vintage is a power hungry and scorned by skull sort of jerkass so it's not the most comfortable settling. Despite this, he felt because he was so awesome he should get to have times where he could fight alongside his old teammates for non-serious matters

But BECAUSE he sort of surrounded himself with other rude fucks they only humored him so they could mock how hard he fell from grace and be told how little respect they had for him in the first place. Vintage had stopped by to remind double about practice in person while this went on (he forgot to trade numbers) annnd he overheard the bullying and saw double get smacked and grabbed and stuff.

Because he's still very fresh in his own pain at this point he decides to jump these fucks and fistfight them for fucking with his teammate. He's big mad and the old team stands no chance against the both of them so they dip. He helps Double up who is a little shocked Vintage had a caring (???) Side to him and ofc edgelord king just says fuck you i just wanted to beat those hoes not help you now buy me ramen. And i mean - vin did save him so he does

They go through this stage of like half bitching at each other and half respecting one another for a while, especially before blue team but post blue team they start definitely settling into a sort of friendship which is nice! In my mind goggles grew out of pantsing after the first incident with rider (and even then it was a tripping accident but this aint abt him) so while vintage and double were having that heart to heart on stage it was more embarassing clownery than embarassing pantsy

Annnd the more they spend leisure time together the more they start. To notice. Things about one another.

Double jokes to himself about vintage being so warm because he always eats spicy food. He's nice to be close to and he gets shivers easily despite his warmth and oh the little tipped up ends of his bowlcut. Are those trying to be horns? Its cute! They're almost more cat ears than horns!

Vintage will find himself staring for longer and longer at double,slowly getting comfortable and normal brained about it and then- oh my god. Just under his jacket - is that… a tail??? A little puffy sea bunny tail?

He tries to not be weird about it but also as double paces and rants about some jerk shoving him its like. How did he not notice it? Is it soft??? Are the bigger spikes on his spikey hair nudibranch feelers shaped into horns for the team aesthetic? He also definitely notices double talking in less tense tones with him compared to others now and its. Soothing almost.

He almost touches the tail before like smacks himself and catches double's attention doing that.

“You good?”

“No. But you can keep talking”

and just eventually does he ask after figuring out how to and yeah double is half nudibranch because inkfish dna due to liquid crystal bullshit from 2000 years ago is adaptive shit

They develop in this space of good friends and though they mutually like each other SO SO FUCKING BAD vintage is surpressing it because hes afraid of fucking up and Double is like visibly attempting to be romantic and vintage is unfortunately dense because he is trying so hard to give friendefit of the doubt

Things with vintage in agent business heat up in years after the grand festival. They get a lot of reports of illegal modified weapons being used by distinct people, some of them even using them to cause harm outside of turf war. Shit like 30 round in one shot stringers, snipers that have shots that can round bends to hit their targets. It's dangerous stuff being used in both inkfish territories and Vintage is in the market of protecting his city and friends.

Essentially? He does get in an altercation with a modder. He took down a guy with a roller that is not only heavy but burn damaging, and it bashed him hard in the lower back while he was chasing him down as the other agents dealt with putting out the arson.

He did NOT learn from his younger days of seeing rider over exert himself and almost die when he was still a purple teamer and he let the injury fester. The incident and his putting off of getting checked out left him with lifelong damages and the need for limits on everything he does, and it sort of collapsed both his careers for a long while due to how limited he was now. It was either do the fucking PT or lose full use of legs and more and vin didn't want that. Whatever counts as a spine for inkfish in his body is shot! Bad as fuck!

As it turns out though, Double and his other teammates supported vin well through this low. Even when vintage sort of berated himself about how dumb he was for not getting help and that double should probably take over and get a replacement so they didn't stagnate like him, double refused because Vin is his leader, always, and he's done on serious battles because of that he doesn't care. He. He really means it.

It doesn't make everything magically better when they do finally kiss and get together, but it helps! And vin gets two surprises with years between them

1. Double blindfolds and drives him somewhere and when he does get to open his eyes BOOM ITS THE FUCKING TACTICAL WHEEELCHAIR WITH A SPLATTLING EXTENSION AND ALL THE WORKS ITS FIRE AND VINTAGE FUCKING CRIES (HAPPILY) (EVERY ONE OF HIS FRIENDS AND AGENT COWORKERS SAVED UP FOR THIS FOR HIM)

2. this little 14 y/o octoling covered in burn scars on one side of their approaches him and asked to be trained in combat. Eventually vintage learns this is one of the people he helped to save in the incident that crippled him and this little mimic admires him like crazy and struggles in ways he does and. Oh why tears again???

anyways as life settles down between his husband who still loves carrying him despite tactical wheelchair freedom and his ability to walk a liiitttle bit and this youngin that kinda is like adopted by him a bit begrudgingly. And like. Hes feeling purpose and feeling loved and also he and double absolutely do a shop that's piercings and tattoos. People get scared when he comes at them to do their hoops and stuff but they're paying him to injure them and its great 👍 he's good at it

And for sure because he and double are gay like that they have a tattoo that goes together. Something something metaphorical attached at the hip with a sewn looking x design and he and his teammates collectively have matching xblood team tattoos

Anyways thank you for allowing my ranting!!!! These gay fucks lift each other up!!!!! He's never fucking being an agent again and he fucking loves it. Many nights of warm embraces and disabled gay loverness. Double loves his boyfriend so fucking much and he cuddles vin and you can see his stupid little tail wag its great

EDIT: forgot to specify that vintage worked his way up to being a part-time wheelchair user so he can walk around his house and short distances but the pain ebbs and flows so somedays he will need chair and other days its a preventative measure for his wahoo world trips with double :3

[ralith]

HELLO, MORE ON BAY RATCHET EATING ROCKS?!?! Can just imagine someone like Ironhide holding him back like "you're our only medic for Primus's sake! Just make someone disposable do it- like the TWINS!"

Ratchet, who is used to going out digging up crystals, learns of the wonderous world of crystal shops. "You mean to tell me the crystals are already unearthed and polished, ready for consumption?"

Ironhide has to be the one to inform Ratchet that certain minerals are dangerous just to be around, which backfires spectacularly because Ratchet is now very intrigued as to what makes these rocks so dangerous.

(I forget what crystal it was, but last time I was at the store there was a crystal axe, and I think if Ratchet showed Ironhide you could shape crystals into weapons, the soldier would come around to appreciating their aesthetic.)

[bluespider008]

Oc asks>>>

Oc: Mayhem (transformers)

1. [are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?]

Like many other Decepticons she had a mainly purple color palette, though after leaving the 'con army she began to veer into more greys, various purples, 'n some yellow as well in her paint jobs (kinda like a Megatronus color palette)

2. [what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?]

Absolutely LOVES rock 'n rap! 'Keep their heads ringin', 'Rollin', 'X gon give it to ya', 'The choice is yours', 'Till I collapse', 'No sleep till Brooklyn'

3. [weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?]

Prefers blasters that she herself makes (being a weapons specialist/engineer) even if they don't always work the best. She's currently workin' on makin' a blaster that can also change into a sword (likely will never work)

4. [how crafty/resourceful are they?]

She is incredibly crafty 'n can make a weapon out of just about anythin', she specifically loves building weapons or items to make missions more fun for her chaotic self.

5. [how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?]

She has spikes naturally formed on her helm but she added ones to her shoulders. She also likes comic stickers, 'n caution tape, as she heard they looked cool in human culture.

6. [how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?]

No hair, just helm lol

7. [favorite animal? why?]

She likes platypuses.. cause, like- they are mammals but lay eggs? How? HOW???

8. [do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?]

Bullet (from her brother. Y'can probably guess why she's called Bullet)

9. [favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?]

She'll literally eat anythin'- even if she ain't supposed to 💀

10. [if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?]

She likes any yellow stones/crystals as they remind her of her brother's optics

11. [what do they have in common with you?]

Fear of attachment/abandonment (same fam, same..)

12. [how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?]

Birthdays aren't really somthin' she's accustomed to celebratin'.. (also, cybertronian age is pretty confusin' so just think of her as a 17 year old in human standards)

13. [what languages do they speak? how fluently?]

Cybertronian, basic alien dialect, can learn any language by goin' through databases as well as mimickin' accents.

14. [are they any good with numbers?]

Ehh.. so/so

15. [how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?]

The actual size of her family is yet to be known as she was raised by her brother. Neither of them truly never knew their sire or carrier 'n had been on the move constantly throughout their childhood.

16. [do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?]

She isn't allowed to have pets yet until she learns to be more careful with her large frame 💀 (she's already accidentally crushed multiple things)

17. [how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?]

As a sparklin' / young teen she spent most of her time on buildin' random projects, her first successful build bein' a hoverboard like invention (before she learned how to transform properly)

18. [their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?]

All can be reasonable dependin' on the situation you're in.

19. [are they quick to anger? what sets them off?]

She's a bit of a hothead 'n can easily be set off when someone mocks her or her inventions.

20. [if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?]

She definitely drives like a drag racer 'n not so surprisingly becomes very competitive if she's actually challenged to a race. (Her alt mode is a deep purple custom '69 Ford Mustang Mach 1)

21. [their favorite place to be?]

She likes the mountains, she finds the snow beautiful 'n peaceful durin' winter.

22. [do they sleep well at night?]

Depends on the night/ how hard she'd worked prior. Sometimes she'll fall into recharge rather quickly, other times she won't or she'll be jolted awake from dreams.

23. [how would you describe their voice? can they sing?]

She loves to project the voice of the singer she's listenin' to through her own vocalizer, pretendin' that she's the one actually singin'. She often switches through accents often 'n speaks pretty fast, so it can be a bit hard to understand at times.

24. [do they have any creative hobbies? art, writing, music, etc]

Loves art, engineerin', 'n music.

25. [how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?]

She has very sharp hearin' 'n pretty good sight, though one time she'd almost lost her optics in a fight.

26. [how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?]

She's far too strong 'n flexible for her own good which only boosts her already huge ego, often gettin' to her head 'n causin' her to do very reckless things durin' battle, sometimes old Decepticon habits come into play 'n she goes overboard.

27. [if applicable, do they have a favorite sport they play any sports or prefer to watch?]

Boxin' 'n racin'. Gets WAY too competitive.

(Might do the last few questions some other time..)