#it just looked clunky at the end

[ganondoodle]

(idk if anyone wants to keep hearing my opinions on totk book stuff but-)

apparently it says that rauru DID have kids, multiple even, which yeah... is kinda necessary for zelda to even be connected to them so much so that sonia can SENSE a blood connection (which, even with all the excuses with magic, is just a little too far for me to suspend my disbelief bc its over, OVER, ten thousand years worth of generations that seperate her from them that one lil touch of the hand can sense that (feels more like an attempt to make you care about them or .. see them as zeldas "better" parents just bc they exchange a few nice words, i never got the feeling they were 'better' parents and its also kinda disrespectful to her actual parents, like sure rhoam wasnt the best but i wouldnt call rauru better just bc he was polite)- i could see maybe the light power of hylia or sth but since its the coolest dude that ever lived rauru now that had it which still doesnt make sense and makes me unreasonably annoyed and she can sense BOTH of their powers in her? nah) the fact theres NOTHING about them in the game itself is just so ... no way they planned any of this

i dont think theres anything they can do or say that wont make be believe they either

are making it up alla 'fix it in post' mentality trying to hastily explain stuff the game never bothers to do to try and appease fans or let it appear as if they thought about it at all

something went really REALLY wrong during development, which kinda seems likely given how the game turned out (im sorry i cannot let go, its not just the writing, the game design too and how little was changed in the map while being so damn expensive, i dont know how people dont feel scammed q_q)

given that they (allegedly) spent the last entire year of development on polish (where??? where????? huh??? like it would make it more understandable (EXCEPT for the price) if there was alot of trouble, which was also bc it got delayed and ... turned out like this, but they dont want to say it, especially given their reputation, with that quote i have heard way too many times 'a delayed game blah blah') i just??

are they just gonna go and do it like they did with kashiwa (kass)? "they uuuh where flying around the whole time ony cool sonau tech maschines, you just dont see or hear from them ooooorrr they were uuuuh out of the country at the time" (sending invitations to other continents to join their glorious kingdom ;) )

(bet they are also gonna say they did all the stuff like ... moving the shrines around (lol?) and lifting the islands up into the sky- which is still weird bc ... didnt they also say they were living in the sky before coming to the surface?? so where?? did they park all their islands on the surface and the mystery kids had the keys so they had to repark them back into the sky after they returned off camera?? xD also why are the islands so different as an environment if they where from the surface? like even the STONE up there is different- and if they were first in the sky then on the surface and the nback in the sky .. why is there not a single yellow tree or grass in the past- you cant really argue that it changed bc they were up there so long bc .. nothing else changed, the suddendly and totally always there sonau buildings are largely in prime condition, only some slightly moldy, and what we see of the glorious past looks barely any different from the present, aside from like ... some standard trees shuffled, no castle yet and that glowy uwu filter DESPITE that stupidly long time frame between it)

[dailypokemoncrochet]

Tapu Fini shell design attempts

Okay so I made Tapu Fini in 2022, but I hadn't done the shell design yet (kept it as a blank purple shell) because I couldn't find a satisfactory way of doing it. Normally I like to crochet everything like color changes and little designs directly in the round instead of adding them on top. The Tapu line is probably going to be one of the few times I opt for adding the details on top because the shell is a flat piece so hiding the color change yarn ends is more of a hassle. However, idk if that means I'm going to get felt or try to yarn felt it or up my embroidery game or what, but I'm putting this back to the side again because it's annoying lol

[youngpettyqueen]

sometimes im forced to remember that the only canon DS9 couple that gets a happy ending at the end of the show is fuckin. Julian/Ezri

[chili-heeler]

I DIDNT READ IT THAT WELL SORRY 😞😞😞

I’ll just do jaswinnzel (sorry if the sentence isn’t that good 💔💔 i was thinking of one and this came to mind)

Sentence: Footsteps ran through the apartment, making such a loud noise that even disturbed the birds resting on the roof of the whole building.

(apartment would be the wells in this case)

Footsteps ran through the apartment, making such a loud noise that even disturbed the birds resting on the roof of the whole building.

Once Hazel found out she had the apartment to herself for the next few days, and Curse Of Gregory just so happened to release that evening, she knew right then and there what she would do and who she should invite that night.

Hazel was preparing the couch, adding whatever blankets and pillows she could find, Winn was trying to connect Hazel's computer - which had the full movie downloaded - to stream it on their TV, and Jasmine was in the kitchen trying not to burn the caramel for their popcorn (it's harder then it looks, Hazel would know).

If you were the Wells' downstairs neighbor, you'd probably think that it was not just the sugar that was burning.

"There we go!" Winn announced, closing the extra gaming console they had on hand to entertain themselves during the process.

Hazel remembered about how she daydreamed about being old enough to go to the movie theater by herself to watch what was then the newest release from the franchise. Now that she turned 15 not too long ago, she could easily do that - but she just wanted to get cozy in her own home, honestly.

As if on cue, Jasmine walked out the kitchen with a large bowl of steaming brown popcorn, she even made extra milkshakes they weren't expecting and cut up some apple slices, sweet!

"Why didn't you open netflix?" Jasmine placed everything she concocted on the small brown table infront of them.

"My family's old fashioned," Hazel got under the blanket placed on top of their couch, like those sheet ghosts you'd see in old cartoons. "We're not paying for a tv subscription we weren't gonna be using." Besides, growing up Antony taught his little sister a thing or two about pirating, it was easier if you knew where to look and what to avoid.

"Have you seen the reviews?" Winn joined Hazel, sitting horizontally right next to her and resting their head on one of her shoulders, taking up most of the couch's space (being the tallest, and all that). "4.1/10. Ouch, Is it really that bad?" Hazel only responded with a shrug.

The franchise's quality had been going down for a while now, that's all Jasmine was talking about to Hazel during class the week before ever since she went on her own movie binge.

Though Hazel resisted to talk about the minimal amount of spoilers and small scenes she saw on dimvid and social media as the two wanted a spoiler free watch, but she could confirm that yes, it was bad, but in an "amusing car crash" sort of way.

Jasmine turned off the lights in the living room, now only dimly lit by the blue screened tv. She also swiftly joined them huddling on the mini pillow fort. Winn left out a small yelp How she managed to fit in between them was beyond the both of them, but they were just too excited as if they were still 10 by this point to care, maybe it was all the soda they drank that morning, who knows. Come to think of it, what time was it?

Winn finally pressed play. The tv flickered from the blue screen, now showing a young girl reciving a package from her front door. Confusily eyeing the doll she pulled out of the cardboard box

Hazel knew she had AP exams to study for. That's what spring break was for her mother told her before they left her.

Studying could wait, though. Sometimes you just want to have a good time and laugh at a really bad movie with your partners well into the night.

[storfulsten]

my silly viera wol alt bc reasons uwu

[ifistayitwillbedouble]

byler canon

woaaaaaaaaah anongate

NOT ANOTHER GATE

[summer-horror-party]

i think this is the most successful ive been in straightening my own hair in a while

[starteas]

You know, it’s kind of funny to think about but with the few asks I’ve gotten about it, it surprised me a lot that people actually missed and liked reading Lumi when it was a webcomic. I ended up developing a complicated relationship with it because I felt really embarrassed about it, but to see a few people want it to be reuploaded or continue definitely tugs at my heartstrings a little. 🥲

[neganium]

While Rockman.EXE has a pretty solid design all around, I've kind of always disliked how his design lacked visible eyebrows 90% of the time. It's not that he doesn't have any, but you just can't see them due to the shape of his helmet. You can't really see his hair, either, other than what little pokes out the back.

[ethereal-feline]

Alright I think that's enough stalling time to get to some fights in this chapter

[evieelyzabethh]

"taste"

☆"you're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin', my body's where they're at"☆ Wearing Arcane characters clothes {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, a bit of fluff, Viktor calls reader a whore, a bit suggestive for all of them

an: this is the case for all my titles, but I feel I should clarify; the songs are not meant to accompany the headcanons, I just get lazy when naming things so I cherry pick song lyrics then use the title lol.

♞Vi♞

♞Vi never thought she would have to worry about her clothes going missing. They're all tattered and torn, holey from all the times she's been cut or stabbed, blood stained from all her injuries throughout the years, and absolutely falling apart at the seams. Hell, her own shirts are so ruined she usually just walks around in chest binding bandages. Granted, stealing Vi's clothes started from an accident of convenience.

You didn't think anything of it as you slipped on the old thing, the writing so faded you could no longer make out the outlines of the letters and the color so sun-bleached it just looked a dull beige. There were holes along the shoulder blade, rib cage, and chest, the hems had long since unraveled, and the neckline had been cut. It Vi wasn't so averse to throwing things out, it's home would've been the garbage can ages ago. But still, it was comfy and clean and something of hers, so you pulled it over your head and carried on into the laundry room where you sat on top of your washing unit, vibrating along with the clunky machine beneath you. You decided to read as you wait, eventually become so engrossed with your book, you miss the sounds of Vi trudging her heavy feet across the floor as she returns from her most recent bout of getting her ass kicked. She hums her way around the space, painfully shrugging her jacket over her aching shoulders, enroute to the laundry room where she finds you, ankles crossed with some old mystery book in your hands. She gawks at you for a moment, not quite knowing what to say at the sight of you in her clothing. It looked good on you. Well, everything looked good on you, but this looked right. "Did you get all dressed up for me, pretty? You jump a bit at the sudden intrusion of her slightly gravelly voice, but eventually relax into her warm, musky presence. She knows how you feel about her smearing her bloody lips across your freshly showered skin, so she bites her lip to swallow her urges. "Depends, did you get yourself all battered just so I could patch you up?" She snickers, wiping the remnants of dried blood from her top lip. "Will my honest earn me a pre-shower kiss?" Of course, you nod your head. You have a very hard time denying her, not even bothered by the feeling of her gauze bound hands grip on your thighs and your skin beneath her shirt. She whimpers, leaning heavily onto the washer, her fingers likely leaving marks from how desperately she grabs at you for stability and her own sanity. She doesn't realize until the adrenaline wears off how much tonight did a toll on her, pulling away from the kiss to rest her head on your shoulder. "You need help to the shower?" "Yeah", she murmurs, hardly louder than a whisper, holding onto your waist as you hop down and sling your arm over her shoulder. "No more pit fighting for a while?", you question lightly, to which she responds by pulling a hefty bag of coins from her pants pocket. "Not for a few months."

★Ekko★

★Ekko has a commune, he is absolutely no stranger to sharing, especially when it comes to clothes. As many times as you have snuck a few of his jackets over the years, he has taken his fair share of your tops, liking the way they constrict and show the definition of his biceps and show off his sculpted lower abdomen. You swap rings, hair ties, and all sorts of accessories, it's another way that you two are visually all over each other. I also wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to buy things knowing they would eventually end up in your closet.

★This being said, you would have better luck getting a reaction out of him showing up wearing nothing rather than in his clothes, at least clothes that aren't important to him. He's so desensitized to the idea of sharing; a regular hoodie wouldn't get him going. Wearing something of his though, his jacket, his mask, replicating how he does his face paint, that would certainly get him. It's the explicit connection to him that gets him, it's you proudly wearing an echo of Ekko.

It was cold and wet and dreary. The sky was grey, and murky puddles formed in the innumerable cracks and crevasses in the dirty floor of the Undercity that the ground began to look like a muddy sea of water. It was the perfect day to be inside, maybe make some warm soup, put on a vinyl and pretend the crackley sound bites are early lightning bolts, and bundle up beside Ekko and call it a day before the sun went down. This was not the case as Ekko was out covering the gardens so they wouldn't be flooded by impure water and preparing for any potential storm surge, leaving you home alone, wrapped in his favorite jacket. You doubted it would be a big deal, it's not like he's ever been upset about borrowing his clothes without asking before, but his reaction when he returns home scares you for a moment. His eyes are closed as he walks through the door, carelessly toeing off his shoes, lifting up his already soaked shirt to wipe the running face paint before it gets into his eyes. From your place on the couch, you look out the window for the first time in hours to see it pouring down, the droplets pelting on your windows and the wind sending the occasional pebble flying at the glass. "I'm telling Scar to do this shit next time, it's too damn w- oh." He freezes, midway through yanking off his raincoat, eye's slightly irritated as they stare at you. oh? "Is that my jacket?" You falter a bit. "Yeah...is that ok?" You had no plans of going out in it, wearing only some old cotton shorts whose elastic waistband snapped years ago and a thin tank top. You didn't even have a bra on. He collects himself though, smirking as he looks you up and down, how good the color compliments your complexion, drinking in the slivers of skin, the sight of your nipples through your top. Of course it's ok, in what fucking world would it not be? "Yea, baby, it's fine." His mumbles, his voice lower and his eyes a bit wide. "You look good in it, too. C'mere, do a spin for me."

❂Jayce❂

❂This man is 6'7 and built like a brick shithouse, his clothes absolutely swallow you and he thinks it's adorable. He gets a fit of cuteness aggression, he just wants to squeeze and hug and kiss you until you pop. It speaks to that part of him that is quite aware of his sheer size, his biceps are the size of your head, you have to look up just to make eye contact with him, his clothes practically fall right off you. He's just so...big.

He awakes slightly startled and feeling empty, immediately feeling your lack of warmth in his arms and slightly panicking. It's too early in the morning to be rational and his frequent nightmares are doing him no favors. He hates waking up alone and cold, he feels like he's waking up in that cave again. His senses calm his rapidly beating heart, the comforting smell of coffee and something syrupy sweet, the sound of something sizzling on the stove. He throws the comforter off him, cringing at the feel of the cold floor on his feet before he throws on some socks and sweatpants to wander around half-asleep in. His brain short circuits when he sees you, his large shirt practically hanging off your shoulders, flowing around your bruised and kiss-bitten thighs. You moved lithely around the kitchen, going back from chopping strawberries for the waffles, stirring the eggs, flipping the bacon, and he's man enough to admit he's blushing a bit. You made breakfast for him! That's so cute. He slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, bending down to plant kisses on your neck. "My shirt looks really good on you, gorgeous." You giggle, turning around to face the big man behind you who picks you up by your hips to set you on the countertop, settling in between your thighs. "You think?" He hums. "Maybe a few sizes too big, but it's endearing. You look like a little fairy, like I could carry you around in my pocket all day." And his eyes are big and out of focus, that charming gap-toothed smile on display as his hands rub over your smooth skin, pushing his shirt higher and higher. Too big is certainly a familiar sentiment, how desperately you were crying that out just last night is still looping in his brain as he says it. "Maybe I'm normal sized, and you're just a giant. Have you ever thought of it that way?" He chuckles. More times than you can imagine.

☽Viktor☾

☽Hard immediately, next question. His work outfits look completely normal on him, but the buttons pop at your chest and the vests accentuate them in a way that's pornographic. Even his ties only serve to enhance the fantasy, even though they are the exact garments he wears to his lab every day. There is nothing innately sexual about it at all, but that's the fun of it. The fact thar you chose to wear that black lacy bra that you knew would show through the top, the way you wear his reading glasses low on your nose, the red bottom heels that you wear, which in any other context could be seen as perfectly appropriate work attire. It's the performance of it that he appreciates.

He knows exactly what game you are trying to play with him, no matter how hard you try and play coy. There is no way that you accidently shrunk your blouse in the wash, hell, he knows that's not your blouse because the buttons are on the wrong side for it to be female attire. He knows that's his tie, he is one thousand percent sure that if he was to yank you by it and check the underside, he would see his initials embroidered. He knows you left it loose on purpose, you have requested for the entire relationship to pick out and tie his ties for him, he knows you can make it tighter. Everything is utterly loose, for lack of a better word. The top button is undone, the tie isn't completely tucked under the collar, the slit of your skirt is not where it should be. It's a play at looking professional that you and him both know is just a test to see how long it takes for him to crack and rush you both home. At first, he's willing to play ball because you always crack first, but today, however, you decided to be serious about your productivity. He tries to focus, he really does, but after a while the clicking of your heels becomes too hypnotic, the fake attempts at adjusting your tie begin to pile onto the sexual frustration, and you lean over one too many times, giving him a good whiff of your perfume and oh you went with a red bra to match his red tie. He waits for Jayce to leave the room, slamming the book he was 'reading' shut as he lets out a very aggravated breath. "I want my shirt back." Cut and dry, his hand flipping the tie you're wearing to confirm that is indeed his. You smirk, and he would feel the need to wipe it off your face had it not been for the fact that he swallowed his pride hours ago after his hard on became too much to ignore. "You want it back now? Right here." And you're already slipping off the other buttons and he contemplates whether it's worth it to barricade the door with the table to buy you more time or be rational and tell you to stop. "Had I known you planned on being a whore today, I wouldn't have invited you over." You pout as he pulls the knot of his tie, grabbing your hands to bind your hands. "But don't I look pretty, Vik?" He rolls his eyes. "You look magnificent, love."

☼Mel☼

☼Like Ekko, she isn't a stranger to sharing clothes with you. Even if it's not hers, she has an exact replica tailored just for you. This being said, she loves playing dress up with you with her clothes. Anytime she needs to clear out her closet or has an article of clothing she doesn't know how to feel about or just gets bored, she'll call you to wherever she is and request you be her doll for a little bit.

Though you had been in Mel's closet for what had to have been hours at this point, you couldn't really complain. Never had you felt more pampered in your life, tens of gowns, trousers, and blouses gracing your skin as you twirled on the platform in Mel's closet as she analyzed the garment from every angle. Now you stood in something white and flowy, the sleeves long, the bodice double lined for winter weather, the hemline off the shoulders and trimmed with fur, the bottom thick and heavy. "What do you think lovey? Do you think it's too on the nose, you know I've never been the biggest fan of fur." Her hand feels across your chest, dusting off where some of the fluff had fallen and rubbing the soft material in her hands. "I don't see you in fur, it's too much of your mother's thing, but I do think it's nice. The lining is really nice on the skin, sorta has a fleece feel to it." She nods, moving her hands along your waist to connect with the silver zipper. She clucks her tongue. "Would I be silly to not wear it because the zipper isn't gold. I know it's a miniscule detail, but I really don't do silver." You chuckle as you look around her closet, a room larger than the bedroom you grew up in filled with racks of clothes that had some sort of golden sheen, be it from the color of the fabric, some sort of metallic accent, or a reflection from the general vibe of the room. "My love, you have so many clothes in here I doubt you would wear it regardless." She smiles. "Are you getting tired of this." You hesitate, which is plenty answer enough for her. You had been standing for hours at this point, and your back was starting to ache from how straight your back had been. "Do you have it in you for just one more. I promise, it'll be quick." She already has it out of the box, a very small party dress that you had never seen her wear before. "I bought it months ago but have been going back and forth between whether or not it would look better on me or you." Of course, you oblige, and she giggles as she zips you out of the dress, carefully sliding it off until the fabric pools around your nearly naked body. Her tunnel vision is briefly abandoned as her movements slow, lingering over the curves of her body, her fingernail tracing tiny hearts on the skin of your chest. "I know I say this every time, but you truly do look beautiful out of everything. Undressing you may be my favorite part of this." You playfully roll your eyes. "Stop being a flirt and just zip me into the dress, I want lunch."

[jadevine]

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

--

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

[iceunhie]

— out of this world (and into another) : genshin impact

premise: you could've sworn the transmigration curse didn't have an effect on you... so what exactly are you doing here?! (alternatively, you tumble straight into your favorite video game; and you're kinda fucked)

...or, a genshin manhwa otome game inspired au.

act i: scaramouche, alhaitham, wriothesley.

↳ act ii: lyney, neuvilette, kazuha, kaeya. (next)

warnings. fem!reader but can be imagined as genderless if u'd like hehe, a shit ton of manhwa tropes in one, this is a hot mess aka not proofread all that much, half clunky half decent writing

a/n: as promised via the poll heh,, while i do plan to make this an actual au, im not that sure ^^; just the tip of the iceberg here tho!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST (coming soon)

YOU — unsuspecting civilian turnt transmigrator

you've always been too attached to fictional characters for your own good.

yes, even the ones that are remarkably irredeemable (the power of a backstory is very formidable) and complex (complexity is a virtue!)

villains have always been destined to die, be cursed, or destined to curse others. it was heartbreaking, really. you've wished for a chance to rewrite their fates for them to find even a sliver of happiness, even when the fate of their plot says otherwise.

which is why when you find yourself awake into the game of your dreams, “Teyvat's Seven Stars”, like any lover of cliche novel and manhwa tropes, this is the time you think that maybe life wasn't so shitty on you.

....there's only one tiny, teensy, itty bitty problem here, actually.

you're not the protagonist. you're not even one of the protagonist's faithful friends and underlings that light protagonist's road to conquering the world and its men (and as of the 4.0 update, it's women); no, you're none of those.

you're a no name extra, and not to mention, a character involved with the game's main villain characters who are coincidentally the love interests of the game's black route!

[ unlock transmigration package: ultimate transmigrator's route ( ????? MODE ) ]

[ no ] [ yes ]

( 国崩 ) SCARAMOUCHE — the tyrant

“as of today, you will be engaged to crown prince kunikuzushi, who is her grace the shogun's rightful heir to the throne.”

when given approval to stare at your so-called soon to be husband, you expect the worst, mostly. the multitudes of character dialogue you've played through detailing his rather discourteous personality (which basically meant he was a huge asshole) don't exactly paint a pretty picture.

however...

who was this tender hearted looking scaramouche that ‘obliterated armies in the blink of an eye?’ the t in tyrant stands for tyrannical, not timid!

eyes like lighting framed by the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and an unfairly pretty face, comparable to a fair lotus. after fawning over his otherworldly countenance, a sinking realization of dread pools in your stomach.

oh, you are so screwed.

essentially tied to the indigo-haired ticking time bomb of a future tyrant due to the strong standing of your family for a period of until the main story starts, you're destined to never get crown prince scaramouche's affection, being his fiancée who scaramouche is arranged to for political means only.

not to mention, you're in an even more deadly position; of all the characters you switched souls with, it's the one that essentially dies by their own fiancé's hand because they were horrible to him! what atrocious luck!

frantic, you wrack up about three ways to survive.

plan a) win over the shogun's favor by being an appropriate partner unlike the original flavor of this body, who resorted to bullying the innocent prince and unknowingly digging their own grave or b) be a guiding friend to scaramouche as he learns the ways of the world and c) make sure you don't end up giving the protagonist a bad ending via his twisted personality.

weighing all these options, you decide to do all three in hopes to cement a life instead of a deathflag. prevention is better than the cure (aka: the protagonist) after all!

(you may also just want to spend time with your favorite character. having a time limit and a sign that says ‘i'll die in the future!’ should at least warrant you extra time to show some affection to scaramouche, at least.)

so, you do what anyone in your position would do: give affection! lots of it.

admittedly, it wasn't all flowers and rainbows. scaramouche—ahem, kunikuzushi—was very shy and reserved indeed, with his mother ei even worse off! (besides, who trains and studies all day and has to stop crying every time they were injured?! that was just too much!)

it was rather hard at first, the frigid atmosphere of the usually silent Tenshukaku Palace almost impossible to permeate. but with your amazing charm (read: deathflag radar) and social skills, you manage to let the members of the Royal family open up to you.

speaking words of praise in ei's cooking (a very difficult feat to accomplish), spending afternoons with your fiancé and teaching him ‘how to be a shoujo worthy male lead, name-version’ (very confusing to explain), and the cherry on top, driving away that vile teacher of his—the Doctor—once word got out that he'd been taking advantage of scaramouche as a political puppet king in the future. trauma enabler destroyed! look at your immeasurable powers!

(“you're not a failure.” clasping kunikuzushi's hands in yours as he reels back from you. damn that doctor.

his tears shot a wave of heartache through you. you can't bear to see your favorite in such suffering. “whatever happens in the future, i won't abandon you.

no matter what, i'll always be on your side, okay?”

kunikuzushi looks at you with something in his eyes—something like adoration. “do you promise that?”

“yeah.” you say without hesitation, the glow of the sunlight hitting your face so dazzlingly that kunikuzushi's eyes widen that his mouth hangs agape in awe. “i promise, kuni.”)

to your greatest delight, your efforts worked in your favor.

ei now spends time with her son, and though it's almost always just a tad bit awkward, you and the guuji yae miko get the two to strike up conversation, and overtime, kunikuzushi becomes more open to you.

(“[name], what kind of man is your type?”

“huh? well...” you think for a while. this was a great opportunity to say it, right? that life changing protagonist quote!

“to me, the only person i'll ever like the most is you, kunikuzushi.”

“do you really, really mean that?” and oh, he looks so cute—flustered and red from your words. worth it.

“yup! now, i made some shimi chazuke, try some—”)

(admittedly, lots of favoritism is involved.)

—and while you reap the fruits of your hard work, you spend warm, sunlit afternoons with ei at tea, even learning about other nations from scaramouche's aunt nahida and even befriended a few of his future affiliates—childe (though for some reason, kunikuzushi always pulls you away from him whenever he spots the two of you together), signora (she tolerates you, you think) and etcetera.

(“then, if i do well, can you kiss me on the cheek, [name]?”

you agree, much to his delight. scaramouche avoids the gaze of a certain pink haired fox eyeing him questionably. unbeknownst to you, he glares at the woman's scrutiny.)

unprecedented things unrelated to the plot happen too; like how your family, which basically only saw you as a political bargaining chip and an unwanted child they could get rid of easily—no longer sent you any demeaning letters demanding money once scaramouche found out....

(“they've been leeching off of you for how long?” so scary... is this was kunikuzushi is like when he's worried?)

(“...kunikuzushi, how long will you keep up that weak-hearted facade of yours? if they find out how.... dishonest you are....”

“i don't need the reminders of a foxy old hag that doesn't know her place. this is fine as it is.”)

(you don't need to know.)

but, you're nothing compared to the inevitable flow of the plot. inazuma is wracked with war, and it just so happened that you'd been unceremoniously kidnapped by a certain resistance leader's trusted general, used as a hostage bargain for approximately the majority of your life. in the worst moments in your dreary cell, there's only one thought in your mind.

....kunikuzushi's face, devastated when he tries to reach for you, before slipping away from him like sand— face morphing into an unbridled state of rage that's too natural, too familiar. when did he learn to make a face like that?

(they say the kingdom was wracked with thunderstorms all night that day.)

afterwards, fate doesn't make it kind for you.

years go by in the blink of an eye, with your capture fervently forgotten in the midst of the growing animosity of the two conflicting forces.

although you did hear that yae sent out a search party for you while at the resistance's base, the shogun's forces never reached you.

eventually, you got released secretly by sympathy of kokomi, the leader of the resistance, who felt pity for you getting caught in the crossfire. letting you go under the condition that you'd likely never meet any of the precious characters you've gotten to know and change was a heavy price to pay, but you didn't have any choice.

indeed, no matter how much you tried to divert the plot, your duty as an extra has ended, and you were even lucky to even be alive. you could only hope that your fiancé—ex-fiancé—took note of your lessons well, bidding farewell to inazuma as you hop on the boat to mondsdat.

by now, you at least hoped that scaramouche and the protagonist met, his true chance at happiness starting now that you were basically dead.

(even if your heart felt like breaking into a million pieces.)

....is what you thought would happen, but why is it that after three years from your supposed capture, inazuma was still at war?

“that crazy prince... he's still working to find his former fiancée... and he's razing almost every village apart looking for them!”

“—didn't the shogunate say that whoever finds her would receive almost 3 million mora?”

“the entire lot of them are lunatics, i tell you. all because of a missing person, too!”

what's more, why was it still going because of you?!

( 艾尔海森 ) AL-HAITHAM: the information guild master

to be fair, normal people don't really run into one of their favorite characters often after transmigrating.

but to be fair, again, you certainly didn't think you'd actually be in your favorite video game franchise caged in bed with essentially one of its main love interests.

eyes wide and unceremoniously looking—definitely not ogling— at the toned body that's currently enveloping you in its arms, the soft tuft of ashy gray hair caressing the crook of your neck, murmuring incoherent mumbles of—is that another language?

???????

you blink, looking down at the bare body currently embracing you. oh. oh.

you're an extra.

you're just an extra, but why are you in bed, currently being served breakfast by the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on, with a pretty view of the rainforests' canopy?

“you should lie down. if i recall, sufficient sleep is required in order for the human body to perform its basic bodily functions. although our partnership is temporary, to let you fall to harm is a situation i'd like to avoid as much as possible.”

“....what?”

“...?”

the guild master, al-haitham, is a character in Teyvat's Seven Stars that is heavily debated on whether he's technically a villain or not. in the game, he's the right hand of sumeru's leader, nahida, working as the overseer of the AKASHA, a guild that gathers information to the nation's leader. he's a pretty shady character—always working behind the scenes and very unfalteringly blunt—and a ‘villain’ for crown prince scaramouche's route, helping the protagonist escape his clutches.

he's often the subject of comedic ire, his banters with a certain broke architect always the highlight of any bonafide al-haitham fan.

“we're expected to work together by lord kusanali's decree in the duration of investigating the hivemind project the lord suspects the baron siraj is partaking in.”

right, that one scene in the game where al-haitham needed to go undercover to infiltrate a coup de etat staged by one of the factions against nahida... right... what.

you were that extra! the one that fell in love with him and pined for his affection!

(“well, i get that part, but does sleeping together really have to play a part in this...?”

al-haitham gives you a mere quirk of the lip, tilting his head. “we do have to play the part of a married couple in dire straights, do we not? this cover is more efficient.

...besides, i don't have anything to complain about. you're certainly better company than kaveh.” )

in truth, al-haitham wasn't bad company. far from it. aside from the internal giggling and fangirling (you) and the incredible stack of books (alhaitham) that you have to see more than the grey haired man on a daily basis, the two of you work out a rapport that stems from memories of the body you transmigrated in.

he's nice to be around, surprisingly considerate when he wants to be—he tells you about the books he always reads....

(who even reads ‘20 Tongues Language Memorization Guidebook: A Basic Overview of Vocabulary and Terms’ for enjoyment?

the content makes your head run in circles because of how complicated it is; but who wouldn't like to listen to an extremely attractive man overexplain to you with a calm and pretty voice?)

...is generous enough to provide meals and cook dinners that have you crying tears of gratitude because you know how awful yours compares (it was either too bland or too seasoned; al-haitham is surprisingly picky when he wants to be)

(you assigned al-haitham the title of “absolute s-tier husband material”— his capabilities are out of this world!)

by chance, you once gave al-haitham a little tidbit of information that proved to be valuable later in the investigation—courtesy of your avid game knowledge—when you two had been lost to the psychological illusion magic cast by siraj when you two finally broke in his estate.

(“whatever happens, if siraj messes with your mind, just make sure to think of me instead of anything else.” al-haitham lets his hand find yours.

“you once asked me if i trusted you, [name].”

“....” you're treated to one of al-haitham's rare smiles, one that warms you up from within. “i do. so don't let yourself get hurt.”)

however, your temporary partner had faltered for once, flinching when siraj took the form of his old grandmother who'd passed to exploit al-haitham's mind, hesitating and frozen in place while siraj inched ever closer to finding out his weakness.

and you couldn't stand it, the character you cared for—the al-haitham that always had a plan, always knew how to stay calm, had looked so unsure and hopeless.

(“wake up, al-haitham!”

with you cradling his face, al-haitham stares back at the only constant in the memories of his grief, eyes meeting yours. “you don't have to do it all alone. i'm right here, aren't i? believe in me.”)

your (fake) husband snaps back to reality, finally allowing enough time to apprehend siraj and put a stop to his malicious project.

(“thank you.” al-haitham tells you solemnly. it hits you that this may be the last time you may ever see him. “i'm grateful that you brought me back to y— to my senses.”

there's a sincerity in your voice that rings from your heart. “anytime, al-haitham.”)

you thought that was the end of it.

defeating siraj meant you two no longer had to associate with each other, but somehow, to your great surprise, al-haitham doesn't stick to the plot at all. you were sure you didn't interfere with the game, though?

for some reason, al-haitham doesn't erase himself from your life, unlike the original route's flow.

in fact, he's become... easy to run into, a constant in your otherwise mundane life. he takes you out to lambad's tavern for an occasional drink, says he's lending you his headphones when you find yourself overwhelmed by the city (you were never good with noises) and even helps you out as you vent your problems to him.

(the day after, said problem conveniently disappears. how strange....)

and most of all, allowing you to enter his personal space... leaving kaveh's jaw dropping when he accuses al-haitham of having a lover.

“you're always going who knows where with them! what else is there to figure out?”

“...we are merely friends.”

“a friend that you let into your personal library? do they know that you still keep the ‘fake’ ring in a box inside the closet?” kaveh laughs. “nice try, al-haitham.”

(after all, kaveh could never unsee the way al-haitham's eyes softened at the feeling of the head on his shoulder lean onto him, with you no doubt asleep. he even took his headphones off! kaveh has never seen him actually take them off in order to keep the person who's sleeping on his shoulder as undisturbed as possible.

in fact, kaveh doesn't think he's ever seen al-haitham be this touchy or considerate with anyone this much before.

.....and most importantly, kaveh would never forget the way al-haitham, a man who found no merit in politeness and preferred bluntness, a man who preferred solitude rather than company—deliberately getting close to someone—pressing a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head.

kaveh blinks. it seems even the throes of love can reach even the most unconquerable of peaks....)

( 莱欧斯利 ) WRIOTHESLEY — the monster duke of the north

“—i need you to gather information on duke wriothesley. serve him undercover as one of the prisoners of the fortress.”

the duke of meropide—a man swamped with terrible rumors. they say he was exiled from the nation due to murdering his entire family. they say he possessed a face worthy of the title of a beast— grotesque, littered in scars. they say that any who end up in his estate, the iron prison of the north, meropide, never saw the light of day again.

(“only criminals of the worst kind are fated to be sentenced there. nobody returns, so we've stopped questioning it...” )

so to say you're not fearing for your life that bad right now is a massive understatement.

“now, mind telling me how you were able to sneak into the most impenetrable prison in all the land, miss prisoner?”

how did it end up like this?

so you wake up and find yourself in jail. lovely.

seriously, of all the places you can transmigrate into, why did it have to be fontaine?! Teyvat's Seven Stars chapter 4's main starting point, the nation of justice is littered with dark themes and high difficulty capture targets.

.... such is the case with the man in front of you. unlike what the rumors of him say, duke wriothesley paints a rugged yet dashing picture of a nobleman, even if he was —if you recall— one of the hardest capture targets to conquer in the game.

a villain character who you played once during one game route, acting as the driving force during one of the love events of one of the protagonist's other love interest, lyney. duke wriothesley almost assassinates lyney's younger brother, freminent, leading lyney to rally up a certain group to bring the nobleman down.... a typical side character villain, who's existence was added as late as 3 patches away from lyney's.

(even inazuma would be better than this! at least the tyrant route could be avoided, and let's not mention the easy sumeru route as well...)

“well, miss prisoner, cat got your tongue?”

in summary: fortunately for you, the body you transmigrated is in the position to spy on the current affairs of the fortress of meropide, with courtesy and with permission of one of Fontaine's leaders, neuvillette. unfortunately for you, it seems our dear monsieur wasn't able to inform wriothesley beforehand, leading to the current situation.

aka, you're pressed dangerously close to wriothesley's chest, with a knife at his throat and his hands pinning you against the wall, noses almost touching. you're not sure if this is even the kind of tension that two people who are trying to kill each other are supposed to have...

(“i'm an ally!” you sputter out. wriothesley raises an eyebrow at you. “monsieur neuvillette sent me.”

“how am i supposed to trust you after i saw you slinking around here, knife at my throat?” he replies, eyes narrowing. “i know that i'm labelled as a beast, but i don't really know what came over that pretty little head of yours when trying to sneak into my chambers.”

what does he take you for?! “...are you accusing me of something indecent?!”

“just saying — i've met lots of prisoners with your excuse, my lady.”

“i'm prepared to use this knife, you know.”

“hah.” wriothesley grins. “how aggressive. more aggressive than most. do you want me that bad?”

“stop twisting my words!”)

in any case, you hate wriothesley. you know he's one of the characters in Teyvat's Seven Stars and is a villain for one of the easy love interest routes in the game, but his personality is... a real piece of work.

you'd rather the protective and kind kazuha, or even the charming and elusive lyney! why did it have to be him?

not only did he not believe you, he even told you to prove your authenticity! you're just glad that his assistant sigewinne had been there to vouch for you — you're not sure if you'd even be on your two feet right now if she didn't.

so now you're stuck constantly on your feet, running to and fro — helping the dark-haired man record new prisoners, establishing trading routes to the main city of Fontaine, and treating other prisoners of the fortress with sigewinne.

your biggest surprise by far, though, is just how... different the duke is from the rumors. his scars were merely battle scars of honor (to which sigewinne rolls her eyes, “your grace, please stop trying to look cool”) he got from various succession fights, not scars to show how he was cursed to turn into a beast. he has a love for tea, but always seems to have a cup of your favorite blend with him when you feel tired after a long day of working (laboring) for him and the estate.

(“your daily report of new convicts, your grace.”

“-this is the tea you like, your grace. i've prepared it in advance.”

“you're very adamant on proving yourself. aren't you sick of such tasks by now, miss prisoner?”

“no.” wriothesley's expression screams 'why not?' on it. “ it's because of my own misjudgement of you.”

“...elaborate.”

“i may have had unnecessary prejudices on your conduct thus far. but you're... not like what the rumors paint you out to be.” you say sincerely. “you're more amazing and incredible than anyone else. i truly do admire you.”

wriothesley's expression; you couldn't decipher it. “i see.”)

he's battered, but caring. sigewinne makes you watch (in horror) as she doodles cartoonish looking characters on his face when he's asleep — wriothesley never fusses, only an exasperated sigh to his assistant. he's harsh with his tasks and duties, but is the first to rush you into sigewinne's infirmary to tend to you after you pass out from overwork.

(“don't worry, [name]. the duke may not look it, but he's very gentle!” sigewinne giggles. humoring the little girl who was the first to show you actual decency in this place, you try to nod. sigewinne doesn't seem convinced.

“i'm serious! after all, compared to other people who've snuck into the fortress, you're the first he's treated this way.” she says cheerily.

“what does that mean?” you can't help but scoff at that. “so he just works someone to the bone from the get go?” you shudder. damn production zone...

sigewinne blinks. “ oh no, not like that. it's just that he's never been so lenient before. in fact, when you fainted, he even gave me the order to prioritize treating you over anything else.”)

well, this wasn't exactly what you thought you would be doing when you transmigrated into your favorite game, but you suppose you can take it.

besides, you'd miss a certain duke otherwise. life truly is full of strange twists....

a/n: thank you for making it this far! if anyone asks why wriothesley's was short, listen, this was completely impulsive and i was out of inspiration LOL, but i do hope you enjoy! look forward to new parts though hehe :3

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[pedge-page]

Will hubby be jelly beans if wifey accidentally meets her ex/ some guy hit on her ????

Joel dealing with Wifey: The Ex

When you had come home with Sarah from a grocery trip, Joel could immediately sense something was … off.

You seemed a little distracted.

“How was the store?” He asks curiously, helping to unload.

You were staring off into the living room, a faint smile still stained on your lips.

“Baby?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You shake your head. “Was good!”

He nods, unconvinced. He continues digging in the bags, unloading the meats and cheeses, veggies, all while you fiddled with the wrapping of a bag.

And then you had the audacity to giggle. Out of no where. And NOT from something he said or did.

That was never a good sign.

“Forgot the potato salad,” he says quietly.

“Oh!” You check the bags again. “Shoot, sorry. I got… carried away at the store.”

He nods again, looking down. Shitshitshit. He needs to know what happened at the store!

When you go upstairs, Joel waits for you to close the bathroom door before fishing in his garage drawer for a sparkly pink device with princesses all over its square body: a walkie talkie set.

“Big Bird to Little Bird. Report in—over."

Sarah, still in her room, rushes to her toy chest, tossing things out until she gets the matching talkie. She flip on her receiver. “oh--Hi Daddy!"

"It’s Big Bird, remember? Code names only on this channel—over."

"Oh sorry. Big Bird."

"Its ok babygirl, tell me—“

"Code names!"

"Right, Little BIrd. I need ya to report on what happened at the grocery store today. Did something happen to Mommy? Over.”

Her voice comes over muffled. “Mmmm. I don’t remember I was playing with my barbie—Over.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Remember we talked about being observant? Over.”

“Yeah. Um… let’s see…” she puts her finger on her chin. “Oh she met someone!”

Joel narrows his eyes. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy!”

Oh crap. Joel puts his hands on his hips, glancing back up the stairwell. What guy could possibly get you so easily out of sorts like this? “What he look like?”

“Uhhhhh. Tall. He was like. Big. But not too big. But like. Bigger than me? Over.”

“So an adult?”

“Yeah!”

Christ she’s not good at this, he shakes his head.

“What did they talk about? Did he say his name?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I don’t remember what they said. But I think his name was John?”

“John? Repeat.”

“No was it Chris? Uhhh maybe it was uhhhh—“

Joel just stood there, palm on his forehead, waiting for her to settle on that very short memory.

“Oh! Marcus!”

“Marcus,” he repeats. Have you ever mentioned a Marcus? He would remember. right? And it couldn’t have been some distant friend at work either. You wouldn’t be this giddy over someone Joel doesn’t already know.

“Little Bird, I’ve got a new assignment for you--over.”

-

Sarah creeps over to the entrance of the master bathroom, perching herself at the cracked door. “I’m here—Over,” she whispers into the receiver.

“Ok good.” Joel cups his hand over the mic, safely standing at his work bench. “Now Momma’s gonna hop on a call with Auntie Maria pretty soon. Need ya to listen closely. She’ll tell her about what happened today.”

Sarah nods. “Got it. over.”

You’re busy sorting your makeup into your drawers, oblivious to the spying plot outside the room. 

Joel knew you were more likely to share gossip with Maria, especially if it’s something you wouldn’t immediately tell him. But he had to ensure you would feel alone so that he wasn’t going to accidentally eaves drop, and his big clunky shoes trotting up the stairs would have given him away.

So he settled for lighter, smaller steps in the form of the biggest nosey queen: Sarah.

On cue, your phone buzzes on the countertop.

“Hey! Oh my god guess who I ran into today??” You whisper excitedly.

Sarah couldn’t hear Maria’s responses on the other end, but she tries her best to make out your words.

“Marcus!” You exclaim. 

“Dad—Big Bird,” Sarah whispers.

“Yeah? What ya got?”

“His name was definitely Marcus.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ok ok, anything else? Who is he?”

“I’m listening. Over.”

You pace around the room, continuing your chat with Maria. “You didn’t know him at this point. I mean this was a long time ago. Do you remember I told you about him?”

There’s some muffled noise on the other end.

Then, you answer. “You know…”you voice gets as low as possible as you tell her…

Sarah gasps loudly into the walkie talkie receiver.

“What? What is it?” Joel asks fearfully.

"She said Marcus was her—wait can I say a bad word?”

“What? No--yes! go ahead just say—“

“You won’t get mad?”

“I won’t get mad Sarah just tell Daddy what Mommy said.”

“Mommy's...first BOYFRIEND.”

He should feel a little relieved that Sarah has learned “boyfriend” to be a banned word in the house, but the frozen chill that travels from his ear all throughout his nervous system sets him on reset mode.

“Hello? Daddy?”

But he doesn’t reply. 

You go on to tell  Maria: “He looks really good now. All those pimples completely cleared up.  Anyway he asked—“

Sarah whispers urgently over the receiver : “She said he asked to go out to lunch with her!”

You listen to Maria for a second, and Joel can hear your voice carry over faintly:

 “I don’t know. I didn’t tell him. I’m worried. You know how he gets. I don’t know how to tell Joel…”

 The last part came in fuzzy. “Sarah, what’s going on?”

She crackles in. “Oh she’s hanging up now!”

Joel shakes himself. “Abort. Get out of there now!”

Sarah closes the talkie, tucking it into her belt and does a cartwheel out the bedroom door just as you step out the bathroom, none the wiser.

When the little girl rushes down the stairs, she goes straight to the garage, closing the door behind her with heavy breathing.

“Were you seen?” He asks urgently.

She shakes her head, still panting.

Joel just sighs. 

Well. Shit.

-

 His fist clenched the steering wheel even tighter than before. Jaw set in his best attempt to look normal. And failing miserably.

“You okay baby?”

Joel just swallows the bile in his throat. “Everything’s great,” he grunts with a frown.

You nod. He definitely seemed a bit…off—

NO FUCKING SHIT HE’S OFF, he’s saying in his head. 

See, you eventually did approach Joel about the man at the grocery store. But what scared him a little was that you had said, “Marcus, my old friend.”

Friend.

Not ‘first boyfriend.’

not even 'ex boyfriend.'

Friend.

You specifically only told Joel he was your friend. Who invited you both for lunch. As a friend.

So yes, he’s filled with rage and confusion and fear and protectiveness and vulnerability and—

“He’d totally love you. I could see you two being friends.”

Oh Joel’s gonna make sure this Marcus never sees the light of day when he’s through with him.

You arrive at the spot: a little cafe in town. Chipper and bright. Perfect for a lunch date.

Date.

You brought your husband to your date. With another man.

He glances at you, your smiling face looking around, unaware of the bull at your grasp.

He closes his hand around yours tighter.

Then, his heart strains as you call out and wave: “Marcus!”

He’s exactly as Joel pictured: tall and slender, wearing tight and navy washed jeans, clean shoes, a plain top, a good looking but slightly rustic leather jacket, smooth faced and a neatly trimmed haircut. He stood up tall and with a great warm welcoming smile, with great teeth as he spotted you.

The man screamed office worker.

The exact opposite of Joel.

You rush up to him and go for a hug. 

Joel has to remember to not blow out his jaw yet. At least, not in public. He did spot a dumpster around the corner of the previous alleyway. Perhaps if Joel just asked Marcus to help him with his truck there…

“And this is my husband, Joel!”

The high pitched siren ringing in his ears suddenly desist, as he realizes you’re both staring at him expectedly.

“Joel,” he repeats his name with a nod.

You give him a slight confused look, smile faltering only slightly. 

Ever the gentleman, Marcus extends his large meaty hand (ugh shit maybe you do have a type) to Joel. That big smug—what Joel thinks is smug but is genuinely a kind smile—grin waiting on him.

Joel cracks his arm to life, freeing it from its stiffened place at his side and clasping Marcus’s hand—very very very firmly.

“Nice to meet the guy that finally made this one happy,” he teases nicely before slapping a hand on his biceps.

Joel’s eyelid flickered for a moment, a twinge of rage surfacing briefly. He surprises it with an extremely strained smirk. “And you are? Sorry. M’wife never mentioned ya before.”

You giggle, embarrassed. “Joel I totally did.”

“Ya didn’t.”

“I—I did.”

He shakes his head, staring at Marcus. “No, no, think I’d remember someone like this.”

You take a deep breath through your nose. What is with you? You’re shouting through your eyeballs.

He narrows his eyes at you.

Marcus can sense the awkward tension before speaking up. “I have a table if you’d both like to sit down?”

You order some water to start off. Joel a beer.

His hand squeezes yours, buried in his lap. He’d even hooked the legs of your chair so that it scraped a little closer to him, practically sitting on top of him rather than in an even 3 point circular table.

Marcus pressed his lips together. Oh boy…

“So uh…where ya from, Max?”

“It’s Marcus, Joel,” you remind him sternly.

“Sorry baby. Forgive me, Marc, new faces get blurred together when ya never hear bout them.”

He ignores the way you stomp your foot over his boot.

“Um…Yeah I’m from California actually.”

He leans back in his chair a little to cavalier, taking a sip of his bottle. “Yeah? Seems like it.”

You and Marcus turn your heads on Joel.

“Accent. Can’t ya hear it?” He coughs, clearing his name.

“Texas, born and raised, am I right?” Marcus quips. Clearly no longer pretending to fall for Joel’s fake attempts at a kind tone.

“S’right. This town right here. Whole life.”

“Yeah I bet. Let me guess… plumber?”

“Construction, actually,” Joel corrects him with a matter-of-fact snarl. “Huh let me think… college? Got a masters in … business finance?”

“Criminology.”

“Oh sure. Crying’ need for that.”

“Does a good job at keeping family’s safe in the city. Women especially.”

“I Keep mine just fine.”

“Yeah? Bet a hammer works real good in defense—“

“You bet it does, want a personal demonstration?” They’re practically standing over the table, faces a mere inches at one another.

“Joel,” you snap loudly. 

He turns down to you, only to instantly get cold feet. Ears burning red, he wipes his nose, breaking the tension and setting back into his chair softly like a scolded puppy. 

-

Joel sits in the passenger seat of the truck, slumped down. He knows he messed up. Looking outside, he sees you talking to Marcus, who’s got his arms folded over his chest. You’re clearly apologizing, cleaning up Joel’s mess. He feels awful that you’ve gotten used to doing that so often. You were right to be worried with Maria. 

You can’t trust him to behave. 

He looks away when Marcus hugs you, his soft smile returning. Something does bubble in Joel’s stomach as he watches him cup your cheek, wiping a stray treat that had fallen. 

It aches in his chest unlike anything he’s ever experienced. 

With a very small kiss to your cheek, you hug him again and wave goodbye, walking back to the truck.

Joel tries to look busy, fiddling with the loose button on his flannel as you slam the creaky door closed, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment.

“I’m…” he clears his throat. “I’m really sorry, baby.”

You just close your eyes. “What did Sarah tell you?”

Joel’s eyes go wide. “I don’t—“

“I know she’s your little sidekick. What did she say.”

“Said…said he was ya first boyfriend…”

Before you could even respond, Joel starts rambling: “I hate it, the way he looks at ya and how clean and good mannered he looks, and ya inviting me to meet your ‘friend’ when you damn well know he’s an ex? do you know how that makes me feel, angel? I’d do anything for ya, but this? I couldn’t keep my head on straight just thinkin’… wonderin’ what else you… you might be hiding from me, behind my back, n I—“

You let out a strained snort, barely contained. When he stops to look at you, you finally cackle.

“This ain’t funny, I—“ he protests.

You silence him by grabbing the back of his head and bringing him close to seal your lips over his.

He breathes in your scent, melting at the soft vanilla taste of your lip moisturizer he just bought you.

When you break, he blinks hazily. “That…I…I’m--“

You put your finger over his plush lips, humming shhhh.

Joel’s puppy eyes, the ones you’ve fallen head over heels in love with since day one, glance back at you expectedly.

“Rule number one: no more asking Sarah to play spy on me.”

He grumbles but nods.

“Rule number two: you ask me directly what’s on your mind.”

“Still don’t explain why ya called him a friend and didn’t tell me we were meetin your ex—“

“Joel.”

“Baby.”

“Joel.”

“Honey.”

“Joel.”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging. “Yes?”

“First of all, I did tell you about Marcus.”

He furls his brows. “Wh--no. No ya didn’t.”

"I did. And you didn’t remember, because you had already dismissed him from being a threat. Yeah. Yeah I know how you assess each guy I’ve ever mentioned.”

He sits back a bit in his chair. “So… Remind me again… Marcus…?”

“Yeah, I told Maria that he was technically my first boyfriend. But I wouldn’t even go as far to call him that, let alone an ex.”

“Oh hell, baby are you about to tell me you been seein’ him this whole time—!?”

You put your finger to his lips again. “As incredible of a husband you are, you’re really bad at listening.”

He nods. “M’sorry. Ya yap a lot. Go on.”

You give him a very warning look before continuing: “Marcus and I were boyfriend and girlfriend for about 8 days in the 3rd grade before he said he’d give me his fruit snacks, but then ditched me to go give them to Lilly instead.”

Joel blinks. “What?”

“You definitely know the Lilly story. Fuckin’ Lilly,” you spat venomously at the mention.

“Fuckin’ Lilly,” he repeated, because yes he absolutely did remember this story, and your life long vendetta against her.

“Maria jokes that he was my ‘first boyfriend’ because I cried in the bathroom until my mom had to pick me up in the middle of the day. I told her this story and she busted out laughing. Said I was a sensitive little bitch back then."

Right. 'Back then', he thinks silently.

“So—“ he doesn’t even know how to process— “So—“

“So… Marcus is genuinely an old friend. We went to 8th grade homecoming together where he gave me crackers and we laughed about it. I haven’t seen him in literal in decades, baby.”

He falls back in his seat completely, looking out the windshield. “Why don’t I remember this?”

“I told you: you didn’t think he was ever gonna be competition, so you didn’t commit this to memory. You just do what a good husband does: nods, rubs my feet, and says ‘girl that’s crazy’ like 5 times.”

“I…I…” his head slams back to the headrest. “I feel like a complete fool.”

“Yeah. You looked like one.”

“He… he was just…”

“Just wanted to get to know you. See the guy who makes me smile every day and has never made me cry.” You caress his gray and brown whiskers on his cheek with a soft smile. “Well, aside from tears of joy. Or hunger.”

He giggles, feeling a little better. You take his fist and press it to your lips, then unfold his burly fingers and kiss his thick palm too.

“Besides, he’s nothing like my type,” you whisper sensually, eye fucking him up and down with your lower lip bit under your teeth.

“Yeah. What’s those city hands gonna do, anyway? Type ya up a report about the new kitchen ya want?” He smirks proudly to himself. Joel always took pride in his handy worked.

Taking a deep breath, he clasps his hand over yours. “I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to let it get out of hand like that.”

You raise your brow.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry for overreacting an bein’ a jealous bastard.”

God, those puppy eyes. He gets ya real good. “Thank you, bubba. Now you gotta go apologize to him.”

Joel cocks his head incredulously. “No I think I’m good. ‘nough embarrassment from me today—“

You’re reaching over his lap and opening the door handle, shoving his body out the truck and closing the door behind him.

You give him two thumbs up.

Joel grunts, rolling his eyes. Marcus is thanking the waiter and gathering his keys when Joel intercepts him.

“Listen I—I uh…”

Marcus folds his arms across his chest, standing up tall to listen to him.

He clears his throat. “I just—look I’m not—she’s…when I’m with…”

But the other man just smirks before putting his hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. She’s worth defending.”

Joel and him both look back to you in the truck: you’re currently unraveling a snickers bar from the glove compartment and swaying your body to the blasting music, using the bar as a mic as you sing along.

The two men gaze upon you fondly. 

But Joel’s head snaps back, eyes narrow. “S’that supposed to mean—“

“Hey man, Its alright. I meant, she’s a good friend. I’ve got nothin goin with her. All good.” 

The two stand there quietly for a moment, and Joel’s about to take his leave when Marcus adds:

“She…used to be shy.”

Joel pauses, thinking hard about it.

Marcus continues, “Like didn’t feel comfortable in her skin when we were still kids. I think she was kinda like a lost puppy. So its—its nice to see her so comfortable with you. Like, genuinely her. Happy. Loved. Cared. She deserves that. I think you’re…I can tell: you’re good for her. In a way I don’t think she’s ever had with someone else. I mean, just look—“

They both look again at you, your tongue swiping chocolate over your lips like a messy toddler.

Joel can feel his heart swoon again. That’s my girl, he thinks warmly.

“Well uh, listen, thank you for meeting up with her again. Meant a lot. If ya wanted…you could come over the house any time. She… we’d love to have you for dinner.”

“I’d like that. Would love to see your home especially. I’m not very handy with … building stuff so…that’d be cool to learn something.”

Joel is absolutely beaming at that. “You got a deal.” 

They shake hands and depart.

You turn down the music as he slides back into the truck. There’s a little bit of a glow to Joel that’s beaming off him, something that had been missing all day.

“I’m so proud of you my little puppy!” You exclaim, ruffling his hair like a dog.

He just stares at you. All of you. Inside and out. He almost forgot, but there was a brief time when he knew you, and you were a bit like Marcus described. Today? You’ve still got chocolate on your cheek as you smile with the biggest teeth, so touchy and loud, unafraid to voice yourself and stand your ground, never take no for an answer, defend and protect, but love and follow dearly.

Did he… do that?

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s go home.” You turn the key in the ignition and back out of the spot.

“Home,” he repeats. But his home is right here, holdin’ your hand in his lap like it’s the most precious piece of him.

Because you are.

- - - -

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[envy-of-the-apple]

speaking of isekai, imagine you live in a world where ppl falling into other universes is pretty common.

ppl get whisked off so much that there's a being who's only job is to retrieve those who fall into other worlds. Accord is really good at her job, the Travelers usually get back by the end of the week.

The Travelers are instantly labeled as celebrities. Everyone wants to know about their adventures. You've heard of world's where people can control elements. Someone else fell through a world where only a certain group of humans can see and fight monsters. There was this other person who apparently went into the Iliad. woof.

So one day, when you wake up in a place that isn't your bed, nor your home, you know to remain calm. Instead, you bide your time. You wander around the world. It's a strange one. You see the evidence of humanity all around, but you haven't see them yet. Every so often, you'd come across decayed clunky-looking robots.

also, you know you've been here for hours and yet...the sun has been in the exact same position as always.

Eventually, you meet a working robot. He's really nice! he seems really excited to meet you too, and you soon learn you're the first human he's ever met. He tells you that all of the other humans have gone to the Moon, and you should talk to the androids if you want to know more.

and so you do. the android's reactions is more or less the same compared to the robot's. you get that they've never seen a human before, but their reactions are throwing you off a little. They never let you lift a finger. You're dressed in their finest clothes and you're given such beautiful jewelry because we've learned that humans love shiny things no? every single thing you do is jotted down and gushed at. one android even fainted out of pure joy when you sneezed. Sure, they were a bit weird, but they meant well. You were fine with it.

At first.

One android guard turns into two then three, then four. Sometimes, you are asked to sit next to the King of androids as the rest celebrate your 'excellence'. The incident that scared you the most was where that one android with a mangled leg broke out of the crowd, begging for your blessing.

....it's starting to feel like they see you as a God.

things just keep getting stranger. whenever you ask about talking to the humans on the moon, the androids keep giving you these strange excuses. going outside happens less and less. The King of Androids starts getting a bit too interested in human marriages and the anatomy of the human body. every time you mention Accord or the prospect of going home, the androids get a very strange look on their face.

You know none of the androids follow the Christian faith, but you can't help but get a sinking feeling in your stomach when you see something that eerily looks like a church being built. Your attendants start asking about ring sizes. When you ask about it to anyone they get a really big smile on their face and say 'it's a surprise'.

You just hope Accord finds you soon.

[jenosbliss]

🍃 nct dream! teaching you how to drive

pairing. gn!reader x nctdream | genre. fluff | wc. 1.4k | warning. none | ml. dream 127 wayv | navi.

MARK. “Wait, WAIT! BRAKE!” he yells, even though your foot hasn’t left the brake pedal. “Are you kidding me?! I’m barely moving!” you yell back, throwing him an incredulous look. “Better safe than sorry!” he defends himself, clutching the door handle like it might save his life. “Relax, it’s an empty parking lot. There’s literally no one here!” You groan, rolling your eyes as you attempt to ease the car forward a couple of inches. “That’s what they want you to think!” he counters, pointing out an imaginary threat. “What if a kid runs out? Or a squirrel? Or a—a runaway shopping cart?”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?!” you ask, exasperated. He gasps when you accelerate—by a whopping three miles per hour. “You’re going too fast! Too fast!” By the end of the lesson, you’re ready to scream. But when you stop the car, he lets out the deepest sigh of relief and pats your hand. “Okay, that wasn’t too bad,” he says shakily. “Same time tomorrow?” “No,” you deadpan. “Never again.”

RENJUN. “Didn’t I just tell you to go into first gear before the speed bump?” He pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s holding himself back from losing it entirely. “I was going to!” you snap back, already regretting asking him to teach you. “You don’t have to keep reminding me every five seconds!” He scoffs. “I wouldn’t have to remind you if you actually listened the first time!” You glare at him, hitting the brakes just a little too hard to spite him. He lurches forward, gripping the dashboard. “What the hell, babe?! Brake gently! GENTLY!”

“Maybe if you weren’t micromanaging me like I’m a toddler—” he cuts you off, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re driving like a toddler!” It’s a full-blown argument by the time you park the car, both of you red-faced. But when you finally sit in silence, you see the tension leave his face. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay… sorry for nagging. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.” You soften, though you still can’t resist muttering, “Could’ve fooled me with all the yelling.”

JENO. “Alright, just take your time,” he says, his voice soft and steady. “There’s no rush. We’re just practicing.” You glance over nervously. “Are you sure? I don’t want to mess this up.” Placing a reassuring hand on your knee, He says. ““Hey, you’ve got this. Everyone starts somewhere.” His calm demeanor helps you relax, and soon you’re moving through an empty lot, following his simple instructions. “Okay, now turn the wheel a little more… perfect. See? You’re a natural.”

When you accidentally brake too hard, he chuckles, but there’s no judgment. “It’s alright. It happens. Just remember to ease into it next time.” By the end of the session, you’re smiling, and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon. “I’m proud of you,” he says, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Next lesson? Parallel parking.” You groan, but he just laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”

HAECHAN. “You’re doing so great, babe. Honestly, better than me when I was learning,” he says, practically glowing with pride. “Thanks,” you mumble, though you’re painfully aware of how clunky your turns are. But the moment someone honks at you for taking too long at a stop sign, he’s out for blood. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” he shouts, leaning halfway out the window. “SHE’S A LEARNING DRIVER, YOU JERK!”

“Oh my god, stop!” you hiss, mortified, pulling him back into his seat. “No, they need to respect you!” He crosses his arms, glaring at the car as it drives away. “Unbelievable. Don’t let them get to you, okay? You’re perfect. You’re amazing. You’re basically a driving prodigy.” You cringe when he starts clapping as you make a slow turn. “Wow, look at you go! That was flawless!”

“Can you not?” you ask, your face hot with embarrassment. “What? I’m just showing my support!” By the end, you’re ready to crawl under the dashboard, but at least he’s smiling like you’ve won a race.

JAEMIN. “Wow. That was amazing,” he says after you manage to turn onto a quiet street. “You’re exaggerating,” you mutter, but he shakes his head. “No, seriously! You’re so good at this. I mean, I knew you’d be great, but this is next level.” When you accidentally swerve too close to the curb, he calmly says, “That’s okay. Just pull back a little. You’re still doing awesome.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” you grumble. “I’m not sugarcoating!” he insists. “I’m being honest. You’re learning super fast.” By the end of the lesson, you’re feeling more confident, even if you know you have a long way to go. “See? I told you you’d be a natural,” he says, grinning. “I’m so proud of you.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling. “Thanks, I guess.”

CHENLE. “Yeah, yeah, just, uh… hit the gas,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. You shoot him an annoyed glare. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” “Of course,” he replies, scrolling through something. “Just keep going straight. You’re fine.” You huff but keep driving, your grip on the wheel tightening when he starts texting someone. “Are you serious right now?!”

“What?” he says, glancing up. “You’re doing great!” “You haven’t even looked at the road!” He finally puts his phone down, giving you a lazy smile. “Babe, you’ve got this. I trust you.” “Then why did I even bother asking you to teach me?!” you snap. By the time you park the car, he’s still nonchalant. “See? Told you didn’t need me.” You glare at him. “Next time, I’m asking literally anyone else.”

JISUNG. “Are you sure you know which pedal is the brake?” he asks, wide-eyed, as you start the car. “Yes!” you reply, exasperated. “I’ve seen people drive before, you know.” He doesn’t look convinced, gripping the door handle like it might fly off. “Okay, just… go slow. Really slow. Like, turtle speed.” You ease forward, and he winces. “Too fast! TOO FAST!”

“We’re going five miles per hour!” you shout, shooting him an annoyed look. “Yeah, and that’s plenty fast! Do you know how much damage a car can do at five miles per hour?!” You sigh, trying to ignore his panicked muttering as you turn a corner. He lets out a yelp when you brake at a stop sign. “Oh my god, we’re going to die,” he says dramatically. “Relax, we’re fine!” you snap. He glances at you, then at the road, then back at you. “I think I need a drink after this.” “Join the club,” you mutter.

a/n. please leave asks or comments about your opinions! let’s talk!!