#rare paper currency

[fandomsimagined]

Don't Go Dark - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Title: Don't Go Dark

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Female!Reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker realizes that he has feelings for his healer.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: What you could expect from Six of Crows

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kaz, so if it's out of character, I apologize. I kind of gave up and phoned it in at the end so if you can tell, I'm sorry. Very loosely inspired by the song Don't Go Dark by Bleachers.

For most of his life, Kaz Brekker called the Barrel home–despite the fact that there was really nothing homey about it–and there was one thing that he knew for certain about the dreadful place: that it always had a tendency to contort even the purest of things into something nasty. No one was good-natured for the sake of it. If someone was kind, it was usually a ploy, as he very well knew. That was one of his first lessons in survival. Love was a weakness that oftentimes had disastrous consequences. The only thing to come from the Barrel was carnage. The currency was blood, and he’d paid his share and then some with his own, and with others. Only the most ruthless and ungodly people prospered, and prosper he did. 

Believe it or not, he did remember the short life he had before the Barrel. He remembered his father and their farm, and he remembered after his father died when Jordie sold the farm with the promise that they would find fortune in Ketterdam. That was when he’d learned the most valuable lesson that there was to learn. That the only person he could truly count on was himself. To love nothing and trust no one. If he loved nothing, then there was nothing to be used against him. Nothing that anyone could take from him. It got lonely, but it had kept him alive for this long, a feat not many accomplished, so that was how he lived. 

She was different. She didn’t live under the same guise of violence as the rest of Ketterdam. She didn’t have the same mentality: that things can always–and most likely will–get worse. She didn’t hold grudges. Not like Kaz did. Kaz was fueled by vengeance and spite. He took whatever was thrown at him in stride with the knowledge that he would find vindication by dealing a much harsher punishment. 

The winter chill bit to the bone, an unfortunate truth for Kaz especially, whose bones were already not in well-working order. His limp was more pronounced as he made his way to his office (formerly Haskell’s). The Dregs were still bustling about, doing Saints knows what, but none would bother him. It was late, the state of his face was less pristine than when he’d left, and his permanent scowl was even more noticeable than usual. No, they would leave him be.

The meeting with the Razorgulls had gone as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. They weren’t too happy to see him, still holding a grudge over Pekka Rollins’ quite unfortunate downfall. They’d landed a couple of punches, but he always had the upper hand, and they were smart enough when it was over to abandon Fifth Harbor entirely.

His office door was slightly ajar, something that didn’t bode well. He knew that the healer would be waiting for him, but she was never so careless to leave the door open, as there were quite a few documents and collectibles that he preferred to keep away from the other Dregs. 

He pushed the rickety door open and immediately he could feel that something was off. She was sitting in the extra wooden chair that he kept there (mostly for her and Jesper since he rarely gave anyone else the privilege to stay in his office for long periods). He sat in his desk chair, his gloved fingers thumbing through the papers that he’d left. Nothing important, just something to keep him occupied. 

Kaz Brekker noticed everything; meaning that Kaz Brekker noticed her trembling hands, though she tried to disguise it by keeping them folded in her lap. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that she’d tried to hide, and he noticed that she was jumpier than usual. Something had happened, that much was obvious, but he wouldn’t push. If she wanted to talk, she would, otherwise, it was none of his concern. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the mere idea of anything happening to her.

“Again? Kaz, you really should be more careful.” It was no surprise that she was born a healer. It was quite literally in her nature to be caring. She was born to fix things. 

“Why? If I were to die tomorrow, all of Ketterdam would breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe even cheers to the occasion,” Kaz scoffed. It sounded grim, but it meant that he was good at what he did, so he saw it as an honor of sorts. He was in control.

“I wouldn’t.” She frowned. She moved to stand above him, getting leverage so she could properly heal his face. Her lips were pursed in concentration as her fingers hovered over a gash on his cheek. It was a strange feeling. It was like he could feel the skin stitching back together as she worked. It was like an itch. “I quite like having you around.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Kaz raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you getting at? A raise?” 

“Oh please, why would I even bother trying to flatter you?” She rolled her eyes. “Not when I know all I have to do is compliment Jesper’s hat, give him a few kruge to gamble away, and he’ll talk you into whatever I want.”

“And here I thought that you were too soft for the Barrel.” Kaz smirked. 

“I’m serious, what are you going to do if I’m not around to fix you up?” 

He thought about the statement carefully. The implication of the words. That was the confirmation he needed to push for further information. She’d opened the door. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” Maybe that’s why she was acting so strange. She seemed like the type to get all weepy about leaving. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea himself. It would be harrowing work trying to find a new healer. Especially a trustworthy one, but he wouldn’t stop her if that’s what she wanted. He just wouldn’t pretend to be happy about either.

“No!” She exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not.” Her quick response and furrowed brow were a relief. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. Not yet, anyway. 

“Well, if you’re not planning on leaving, then I suppose I don’t have to worry about it then, do I?” Kaz spoke bluntly, though he supposed if she listened close enough, she would hear the twinge of satisfaction hidden beneath. It was selfish. Ketterdam was a grim place, but he didn’t want her to leave. She made it a little less grim. 

Her fingers moved eloquently, drifting over his broken nose, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It did him well not to think about how close she was to him. It would probably send him into fight-or-flight mode if he did. 

He winced as he felt the bone setting back into place. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, though he wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to the damn itch that plagued the area as she was working her magic. That wasn’t what bothered him, though. What bothered him was that she hadn’t spoken again, something that was quite unlike her. Normally she would be scolding him or telling him all about whatever had happened at the Crow Club that afternoon. No, she hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t provided any elaboration to her previous statement. 

“Is everything alright?” He pressed further. If it was anyone else, he would’ve left it be. A problem for another day, but this wasn’t anyone else. 

“No… I mean…” She started and paused, turning to face the wall to her side as if avoiding looking at him. He was relieved that she wasn’t planning on leaving the Dregs just yet, but there was something bothering her and he couldn’t deny being slightly concerned about what it was. Had something happened at the club while he was gone? Surely one of the others downstairs would have mentioned something to him when he walked in if it had. But, there was no way to be sure. 

She turned back to face him, taking a shaky breath as if trying to figure out what to say. “This afternoon while I was on my way to the club, a man grabbed me. Put a knife to my throat and said that if I didn’t give him all of my kruge, then he would slit my throat, watch me bleed out, and then take it all anyways. It wasn’t even much, just seventeen, but he was willing to kill me for it.” He clenched his jaw as she recounted the story. He wouldn’t interrupt, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already plotting on what he would do when he found the bastard. She reached up to fiddle with the necklace chain that she always wore, but it was missing. He’d taken her locket too.

“I was sure he would kill me even if I gave it to him, I saw his face for Saints’ sake, but I just… It made me think about if something had happened to me, then who would be here to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed? I mean, you’ve almost done it several times with me here and I’m one of the best healers in Kerch, not to pat myself on the back or anything…” She was one of the best healers in Kerch. That was why he’d recruited her in the first place, and that was why she was under his protection. Though, he thought that she might’ve been exaggerating. He was pretty sure, he only almost died twice, and only once was his fault. 

“Who was it?” Kaz said through gritted teeth. It was unlikely that it was anyone from a rival gang. It wasn’t a secret that she was associated with the Dregs and they weren’t stupid. Pulling a stunt like that would start a war, especially since it was in Fifth Harbor. That was his territory. No, the only one that bold would be the Dime Lions, but they would’ve killed her to send a message. This was probably some random person off of the street if he had to guess. Looking for a quick buck, so they thought why not steal it? What they didn’t know was that they’d stolen it from the wrong woman. 

“Kaz-”

“Who was it?” He repeated. 

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, that I might not be here next time you decide to go and get yourself all bloodied up, and what if it’s more serious next time?” He didn’t like the way that she was talking so casually about the prospect of dying. Like it was inevitable, and she was making her final arrangements before she went. 

“Listen to me carefully. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it.” It was a statement not a question. He would make sure to get the message across that not only was she associated with the Dregs, but she was under the protection of Dirtyhands himself, and he would make sure to send a very clear warning as to what would happen should anyone get the bright idea to lay a finger on his crew again. 

“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Kaz. We all know it’s only a matter of time. People like me don’t make it very long  here. I’m not strong, or smart, or resourceful enough…” Her eyes were glassy, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He was confused. None of those things could have been farther from the truth. She may have been soft, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart or strong. She had to be strong to have put up with him for so long. He wasn’t known to be the most facile person in the world. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice was gravelly. It was rough. In fact, he’d often heard it described as the voice of a demon, or the devil himself. There was nothing soothing about it, yet he saw her shoulders slump in what seemed to be relief. That even though the Saints had never looked out for her, he would. 

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. That was that. There was nothing left to be said. He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. He lied, he stole, he killed, but he didn’t break his promises. And there wasn’t a promise that he ever intended to keep more than that one. 

She silently worked on mending the split on his cheek. The Razorgulls had gotten a couple of good shots in. More than he thought, and he was starting to feel it, though he wouldn’t for long. 

“Stay at the Slat tonight.” He finally broke the silence. She didn’t live far, but clearly she wasn’t safe and he couldn’t have that.

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look. It was seemingly out of the blue, and he didn’t exactly give much room for any discussion. 

“I want you to stay at the Slat tonight. It’s late, you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.” 

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Kaz perused the selection at Alwynn’s pawn shop. When he’d noticed that her necklace had been stolen, he knew that it had probably ended up in a pawn shop somewhere. No one stole jewelry off of ladies on the street to wear. No, clearly he needed money. 

He’d expected to have to go to more than one shop to find any relevant information, but no. It was almost too easy. He’d spotted the necklace on a display in  the front of the store. He recognized it immediately. The dainty gold chain could’ve easily been confused, but the locket that dangled from it, couldn’t be. 

“Mr. Brekker, I didn’t think of you as the jewelry type,” Alwynn gave a short laugh. 

“Well, Alwynn, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.” 

“That, I’m sure of.”

“How much did you buy it for?” Kaz inquired.

“Bought it for twenty-five. Selling it for forty-two.” Kaz wasn’t surprised. Alwynn had always been a crook. 

“Who brought it in?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t say. Merchant-client privilege, I’m sure you understand.” Alwynn appeared nervous now. Good.

“I’ll pay double the price.”

Alwynn thought for a moment. “His name’s Griffin. He came in yesterday afternoon. He’s been staying in the alley beside Burke’s.” 

“Thank you, Alwynn. It’s been a pleasure as always.” He was well aware that he probably could’ve stolen the necklace or threatened him without spending the kruge, but he decided to, for once, pick his battles. He slid over the proper amount of kruge before making his way to the door.

Kaz found Griffin exactly where Alwynn said he would be.He’d clearly been staying there, the pile of rags on the ground and empty bottles were scattered beside them. He almost felt sorry for him. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Kaz approached Griffin, making his presence known. The man, probably around twenty or so, must have been at least a little intelligent, because his expression was a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“Good evening Griffin,” Kaz crooned. “You know, I heard from a close source of mine that you met a lady around this area yesterday afternoon.” 

“I meet a lot of ladies around here.” Griffin scoffed.

“Well, this particular lady said that you threatened her. Stole her money and a necklace. Surely you would remember that. Unless, you make a habit out of stealing from women. Do you?”

“What?” 

“Do you only target women to  pay for your alcohol addiction, or was this particular lady just a special case?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered. 

“How much did you take?” Kaz growled, ignoring the obvious lie that had escaped from his mouth. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew. 17 kruge and her necklace (which he’d gotten thirty-five for at the shop), but he wanted to hear him admit it. 

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even if Kaz didn’t already know he was lying, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell. The sweat beading at his forehead, the way his eyes darted, the fact that he had around fifty-two kruge worth of bottles at his feet. It was too easy. 

“This wouldn’t happen to jog your memory would it?” Kaz held the chain out. Griffin’s face went pale. It was as if all of the color had simply vanished. “So, I’ll ask again: how much did you take?” 

“Not a lot, just seventeen kruge, and I’ll-”

“You’ll pay it back. In fact, you’re going to pay back the seventeen that you stole, the eighty-four I had to pay to buy the necklace back from the crook you sold it to, and an extra thirty kruge for making me get out in this dreadful cold to track down you and this necklace.” Kaz felt it to be a fair trade. For him at least. 

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well, I suggest that you find it before the week is out. Paid in full, and after that, I don’t want to see you back in Fifth Harbor again, and if I do, I’ll make sure that you end up at the bottom of the Harbor.” He turned to walk back towards the street, but he turned back before he got there. He swung his cane, hard, at Griffin’s right hand–his dominant one–earning a howl of pain. “Next time you decide to steal jewelry from a woman on the street, I would suggest selling it to a shop that’s not only a few feet away from where you’re staying.” 

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“What’s this?” She looked puzzled at the pouch of kruge that he’d dropped on the table in front of her. Kaz didn’t answer, and realization flooded over her face. “Kaz…” she gave him a stern look. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I would feel really guilty if you killed him.”

“Relax, I didn’t kill him.” Kaz scowled. “But, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else around Fifth Harbor anymore.”

“That really makes it sound like you killed him…”

“I did not kill him. I simply reminded him that it’s not very polite to threaten women.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Besides, if I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have gotten this back, would I?” He draped the gold chain over his gloved fingers. It was beside the point that he’d found the necklace before he’d found Griffin, and that he could’ve easily gotten it back had he killed him. She didn’t need to know that. 

“You got my locket back?” She gasped in disbelief. She took the chain, eyes wide. “How? Wait…” she paused. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll have you know that you’re missing out on quite the lovely story, then,” Kaz teased. 

“I’m sure. I think it’ll be far lovelier if I never find out, though.” She chuckled. “Because something tells me it involved some of your more extreme measures.”

“Not extreme enough if you ask me. He got to keep all of his fingers. You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re making me soft.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a gracious smile. 

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Kaz had never been one to fear others. He was fairly confident in his ability to fight his way out of a skirmish, should one come up, so why would he? He’d fought off far more men than the three in front of him on his own. What could he have to fear?

He had never been afraid, but all it took was a few goddamn words and his blood turned to ice. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that healer of yours, wouldn’t it?” A threat. A barely subtle attempt at one. In any other case, he probably would’ve laughed it off. Come up with some witty response. He didn’t have it in him. What if it wasn’t a bluff?

“If you touch her, I swear to you, I’ll gut you,” Kaz snarled. It wasn’t the smartest move. Now, there was no doubt that he cared. That they could use her against him. 

“The Bastard of the Barrel does have a heart, eh?” Rowell sneered. His last encounter with the Razorgulls hadn’t ended as smoothly as he’d hoped. They’d gone searching on him. Trying to find–well he supposed they did–find leverage. They’d finally found Kaz Brekker’s weakness. 

The words echoed through Kaz’s head. “Rowell, if you touch her, I can always pay a visit to Broad Street. I seem to recall that’s where your wife and daughter are? If I find out any of your men touched my healer, I’ll put a bullet in their heads myself.” He was good for it. Rowell knew it. He had never been above killing, and that was when he didn’t have something to lose. 

Rowell’s face contorted in alarm. Kaz knew where his family was. Kaz had just as much leverage as he did. The only difference was Kaz was far more ruthless than Rowell ever imagined. 

“You may think you’ve found my weakness, Rowell, and maybe you have, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise don’t waste my time and your breath just telling me about it.” With that, Kaz began his trek back to the Slat. For the first time in quite a long time, he was scared. They could very well call his bluff. By this point, Rowell could have already gotten to her by now. He’d spent so much of his time focusing on protecting her from the Barrel, that he’d forgotten that association with Kaz Brekker was the biggest threat of all. 

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It had been weeks since Rowell’s threat. He hadn’t taken it lightly. He didn’t think Rowell was brave enough to do anything, but if he’d noticed, it was only a matter of time before others would too, if they hadn’t already. 

He’d decided to keep his distance. That was the only way he knew how to keep her safe. Kaz Brekker was the most feared man in the Barrel because he had nothing to lose. If it came out that he did in fact care for anything… well he had a lot of enemies that would waste no time doing everything in their power to take it from him. 

He’d been avoiding her altogether. She was hurt. He knew that. It was better for her to be hurt than dead. 

He was making his way up the stairs to his study, ready to shut himself for the night to plan for the upcoming job he’d secured. It was nothing big, probably him, Jesper, and a couple of the newer recruits for the Dregs. Test their loyalty before anything major. 

He saw her near the bar talking to Jesper, laughing at something he’d said. He swiftly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xavier (ironically one of the new recruits he was planning to take) grab at her waist. He was quite intoxicated, slurring a remark that he couldn’t hear, but was almost certainly derogatory. She politely pushed him aside, muttering a soft ‘no thank you’, but Xavier wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Kaz didn’t even have time to think, really. He didn’t have to think. It was instinct. He ignored the pain in his leg and crossed the room. He’d never been the biggest fan of Xavier, so he didn’t feel too guilty about the punch that landed on the boy’s jaw. His knuckles throbbed from the contact, but he ignored it. When Xavier offered to try and return the blow, Kaz dodged the jab and cracked his cane over his back. 

“This is a respectable establishment, and that means when a woman says ‘no’ that’s the end of the discussion.” 

Kaz avoided her gaze, and made his way up to his study, but he was followed. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kaz muttered, sitting in his chair, finally resting his leg. 

“You’ve spent weeks acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re getting in bar fights to defend me? And what? You’re just going to go back to ignoring me?” She was hardly a confrontational person, so Kaz knew that she was angry by the sudden outburst. “I don’t get it. What did I do to make you decide that you hate me?” 

Surely she didn’t really believe that he hated her. “I don’t hate you.” He still didn’t look up. 

“So, what is it then?” She was blinking back tears. He felt guilty, a feeling that he didn’t even know he was capable of. 

“You seriously don’t get it?”

“No, I don’t get it!” She shouted. 

“I care about you!” He blurted. “Far more than I should.” His confession earned a scoff. “You don’t believe me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I?”

“Why? What would I possibly have to gain from lying to you about that?”

“I don’t know, but I never know anything with you!” 

“Fine, if you don’t believe me, then go. If you think I’m lying then why are you still here?” He didn’t believe that she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t. 

“I just want to know why! Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I already told you the truth, so what do you want from me?” Kaz suddenly felt defensive. “I care about you, and people noticed. Rowell threatened you straight to my face, and I realized that if people thought that you meant anything to me, then they’d come after you. They’d kill you to get to me, and that can’t happen.” 

“So, it was that easy then? You got scared that someone was going to come after me so you decided to just stop caring? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“That is not what I said. What I said was that if they thought that you were important to me, they would come for you. I never said that meant I stopped caring.” Kaz huffed. “This is the only way that I can be sure you’re safe.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I have a stake in this too?” She was letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t care who comes after me.”

“I can’t lose you.” Kaz shook his head. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I can’t guarantee that people won’t come for you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t exactly made a good reputation my priority.” Kaz attempted a joke, but really it served more as a warning. A glimpse into what being close to him would entail, which would mean always looking over your shoulder. 

“Believe it or not, I have actually caught on to that part…” She let out a soft chuckle. 

He reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. He took the opportunity to rest his gloved hand on her cheek. He felt his body tense. His hand fell. Flashes of the nightmare that he’d endured. Jordie’s cold grey skin. The smell of waterlogged rotten flesh. It was as if he was back in the harbor. Surrounded by nothing but death and decay. 

She seemed to notice his ordeal. Concern flashed through her eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Kaz?” He’d never told her about his brother. He’d never told anyone, really. As far as he was concerned, Kaz Rietveld had died in that harbor, but that wasn’t all true. If it had, he wouldn’t be damn near hyperventilating because he’d touched her. It was stupid. He was stupid. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. She probably thought he’d lost his mind.

“I think you need to rest,” she suggested. “I’ll run downstairs and grab you some water, I’ll be right-” 

“No.” His voice came out hoarse. 

“Kaz, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you should drink something.” 

“I want you to stay.” He sounded needy like a child and he hated it, but he also meant every word. “Please stay.” He grabbed her hand. Only this time, it was easier. He wasn’t thinking about death and despair. He wasn’t thinking about Jordie. He was thinking about her. 

[diaryofanenchantedprincess]

Rarely ever be emotional. Your default is under emotional. Always observing, looking at how you can turn certain events to have a favorable outcome for you and where you can benefit from. Save your emotions for your children or your pets or for when you write or paint or express yourself. Save it for your journal to put them all down in and sort through them. Process your emotions in private, with someone you trust, or with a therapist. Practice mental hygiene every night where you put them down on paper or say them out loud. But your emotions are a currency.

Say you only have so much currency to spend every day. Would you be giving them out as freely as you do and to people who didn’t even ask for it?

[vylithscat]

their colognes and smells - obey me! hcs

prompt: you’ve spent your time around demons, angels and even a human sorcerer so often that you've begun picking up the smells that signal they're nearby. genre: general, slight fluff, you/your pronouns pairings: bros, dateables (minus luke) & sides word count: 1.5k

Lucifer doesn’t pile on his cologne, he prefers a lighter one with faint traces of citrus and cedarwood. As long as the scent will get you clinging to his side and commenting on it, he’ll try it once. His chest puffs out slightly each time you do, a smile tugging on his lips as he mumbles a thank you. When he isn’t going out, and your face is buried into the crook of his neck as he works, you can pick up traces of the ink he uses and a faint hint of rose and lilac. It’s almost dizzying how well everything gently mixes together, and it helps you drift to sleep in his lap before he carries you to his bed.

_____

Mammon’s cologne is the heaviest of anyone around you. You can tell when he’s approaching, and when he’s found his way next to you. He often prefers smells that are pleasing to you; warm and an after scent of spices like nutmeg and cinnamon. It compliments him well and doesn’t hurt your nostrils. Despite how much he piles on, when it finally begins to dwindle and you stuff your face into his hair, you can smell Grimm. It’s subtle, carefully acknowledging how much of his time is spent around the currency. The metal doesn’t burn, and the paper smell of it is all the more subtle, but you can still smell what he’s around the most, besides you.

_____

Leviathan never really wears cologne. He finds it stupid and a waste of his time, adding some random scent to yourself. If you like it, he won’t care, but he’ll snip a comment about his brother’s cologne from time to time, especially if they pile it on and burn his nose. Since he doesn’t wear any, the only thing you can smell when you’re laying with him is shampoo. A gentle mix of hibiscus and mint greets your nose when you rest your head near the demon, the scent grows a slight bit stronger if you mess with his hair and his chirp of embarrassment sends a smile across your face.

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Satan doesn’t care much about cologne and sticks to the same one if he likes its fragrance. The only time he’ll try something new is if you hum over a different bottle’s scent. It’s applied sparingly but you can tell when he’s around. He often prefers earthy, woody scents that carefully compliment each other. When it’s faint and the two of you are together, carefully wrapped up in blankets, you can smell his books and their papers gently wafting off of him. It was like waves, carefully cascading over you and helping you feel at peace as you nuzzled deeper into the blankets, stirring the demon next to you with a soft groan.

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Asmodeus prefers perfume over the smell of cologne. The smell is more intense and concentrated, and has more pleasing scents to him. He prefers the floral scents, as they’re more common, but won’t hesitate to try something new or even lend you one if your interest is piqued. When he isn’t wearing anything, which is rather rare, he smells like a freshly run bath, the smell of eucalyptus relaxing your body as if you stepped into a spa. A faint trace of rose petals will often compliment it, the smells mixing together perfectly to help lure you to sleep.

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Beelzebub rarely ever puts on cologne. He doesn’t mind it, but it’s not his thing in the slightest, but he doesn’t need it. When you’re walking, you can tell when he's soon to follow. A light trace of meats follows him anywhere. Anything he eats will often be picked up by him, and it will all carefully compliment each other throughout the day until he ends up falling asleep. Even as he sleeps, a new day of foods and sweets follows him, mixing to make the most delicious smelling meal you could think of.

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Belphegor doesn’t wear cologne. Doesn’t care for it, never has. However, he doesn’t need to care about adding a scent onto him, as he always smells like fresh linen, a gentle trace of freshly cut grass and morning dew following. The smell is the strongest at his waist and hair, and if you were to bury your face in to pick up more of it, you would hear a soft giggle escape the demon’s lips before he tried to hold onto you. The smell helps you feel at ease and will make you sleepy, even more so if he curls himself around you.

_____

Diavolo wears a lot of cologne, it overpowers those around him but its scent is lovely. It’s the scent of amberwood, carefully brushing against you when he comes up to greet you. When it finally dims, and the scent is faint, you can smell a mix of ink, tea and demonus. On some days, the ink and tea is stronger, and freshly out of a party, all you can smell is demonus. When all together, they come at you in waves, none too strong, but not too subtle. You know he was hard at work when ink hits you first, the scent stronger than anything else.

_____

Barbatos wears colognes that are heavy but refreshing when he passes by. He prefers those that smell like citrus and fruit, his favorite is a careful blend of apple, lemon and plum with a gentle amount of floral following it. When it becomes faint, it compliments the teas he owns that he picks as he goes about his day. The occasional day where he’s in the kitchen, cooking his heart out, his cologne manages to mix together perfectly with his food, especially those of the sweeter kind. When you’re able to huddle close to him, every scent will fill your mind and make you forget what you were doing for a second, until he coaxes you to a seat to serve you, even for a brief moment.

_____

Simeon wears his cologne very sparingly. His preferred type smells the most like sage and rosewood, and it compliments the smell of bread that often follows him. Considering where he lives, it’s not much of a surprise he smells like food. Although bread is the strongest, focusing in and nuzzling your face into his side brings out the sweeter, gentler scents. He may smell like a freshly baked pie or a cupcake depending on the day, but they all manage to mix together into the perfect combination.

_____

Solomon has been through a dozen different colognes throughout his life, and he’s managed to settle on one that’s gentle on those around him. Its strongest scents are cucumber and camelia, carefully mixing together to compliment each other. When it dims and you’re curled up studying with him, he smells like a different mix of woods, almost like you had stepped into a forest. In the morning, if you stayed with him overnight, you can often smell coffee and caramel wafting off him. The woods are still there, making you bury your face into his shoulder to mix everything together into the perfect cabin getaway.

_____

Raphael’s cologne is another of the lighter scents. He doesn’t pile it on, which makes it hard to pick up the amber and citrus from him, but if you’re able to get close enough, it’ll all mix together nicely. Coming by to visit him at night will greet you with a gentle lavender scent, if he’s freshly out of the shower, it’s even stronger. Messing with his hair will have you hum as it rolls off a little stronger than before. He often gently grumbles and glances at you, asking if you’d like to see what he uses. Aside from his hair, it’s subtle on his shoulders and back, making it a little easier to catch the scent.

_____

Thirteen has never worn perfume or cologne, she finds putting it on a little stupid. The only way to convince her is during some big event, and even then, she may not agree. In general, she smells like a field of grass and flowers, almost like she had just walked through one. When you first met her though, she smelled like nothing. A faint trace of iron and sulfur floating around her, but not overpowering any earthy or rock smells from her cave. She’s always a dice roll on what she could smell like, day after day, you’re greeted with something new, but you always smell a subtle amount of grass when near her.

_____

Mephistopheles wears a heavy amount of cologne that it burns ever so slightly. His favorite smells strongly of oakmoss, cedarwood and musk, and it overpowers other smells around you when it’s fresh in the morning. As the day goes on, and his cologne is barely clinging on, when you get closer to him a trace of demonus brushes your nose and sends you looking back at him. He may snap at you when you stare for too long, but the prideful look on his face when you compliment his cologne sends a smile to your lips. The strongest scent of his cologne and the demonus can be found at his jaw and crook of his neck, but good luck getting that close out of nowhere.

[experimentfae]

Welcome home x GN Human! Reader Headcanons

Wally Darling

Wally seemed to be calm seeing you but in Reality surprised when he first saw you.

Very curious about you, you’re clothes, anything to do with where you came from and just about you in general.

Likes showing you his painting and don’t be surprised if he ask you about artist from you’re world.

If you know other types of apples Wally would be confused but curious even though he would prefer to stick to his classic red apples.

Would introduce you to home, it was awkward at the beginning but was thankful that you eventually warmed up to home.

Julie Joyful

She’s super excited about you she wanted to get to know you right away.

She would definitely love styling you’re hair, especially if it’s on the curly side she would love to touch, only when you allow her to of course.

She would definitely show you the games she invented and in return you could show her games you like to play. Julie would love to learn new ways to play.

She would make you part of her imaginary business no ifs or buts she hired you without you’re knowledge.

Frank frankly:

Definitely tried to study you no doubt about that.

Would constantly ask questions about human autonomy, you’re world and you’re culture basically is fascinated by you.

When you do give frank the knowledge that you are a human, they would probably looking for books about humans if they are lucky enough to find one and if they are not then they would write one themselves.

They would share there love for butterflies and maybe others bugs and ask you if bugs in you’re world look similar to the bugs in the neighborhood.

They would right down anything you told them about humans.

Eddie dear

He was actually the one to find you he got scared thinking you where dead but when you slowly woke up he was relieved, When he saw you at first he assumed you where just a big puppet.

But you informed Eddie that you are infact a human he begin wanting to know more about humans and you especially.

After you being at welcome home for a while he has the tendency to forget that you are not from here and that you are a human.

Eddie showed you his arts and craft hobby and would be happy if you enjoy it as much as he does, he even taught how how to make a paper chain.

Barnaby B.Beagle

Would be very shocked but definitely welcome you with open arms.

He calls you kid like everyone one in the neighborhood despite the fact everyone including you are around his age.

If you are homesick then Barnaby would tell you jokes to make you feel better.

Weirdly he wasn’t that interested in learning about humans he did ask questions but was rare for him to do so.

Sally Starlet

She was amazed by you she has never seen anything like you and wanted to learn about you.

Would ask questions about plays in your world and would also ask about the stars.

Sally would want you in one or more of her plays for sure she wants to make a play about what you told everyone about humans.

If you have a love for theater expect for her to involve you in her plays way more than before.

Howdy Pillar

When he first saw you he was bewildered and curious so he definitely asked a lot of questions.

He have asked about small businesses work in you’re world, you told him about currency and how business works he definitely shocked it’s the same but so different at the same time.

You often come and you found that in exchange for his stuff it was facts about world or other humans which you happily appreciated that form a currency.

Was confused on what some items you where talking about such as bandaids, or frozen foods.

Poppy Partridge

Which was confused by you’re appearance but soon learned what you are, she’s no longer surprised but now just confused.

Just like Barnaby she isn’t that curious about humans and there lives she’s more curious about you personally.

If you have a knowledge about baking she would ask what do humans make, of course you answer her questions which made her right it down immediately to remember for another time.

Poppy would be shocked to find that you need to eat to survive usually she just baked or cooked just cause she likes how the food looks, just like the other puppets so she would be very motherly and check on you daily to see if you ate enough today.

<- Back to MasterList or back to welcome home

[djtheabishai]

Random Fact About:!

I'm gonna start doing random facts about MY Obey Me! characters. Mainly about Simmy and Barbie and the twins and will throw in the others too time to time.

Well, here's one about each!

Simeon: He does cuss, just not very often. Especially in front of Luke.

Barbatos: He does smoke. Very very rarely. Like once every couple hundred years. He stress smokes.

Diavolo: He's not an idiot. He knows what he's doing. He just seems that way so people won't walk on eggshells around him. (If Barbatos or Lucifer ain't around)

Luke: He's not dumb by no means. He knows what's up.

Solomon: I solely believe his so called "food" is what makes him immortal. Think about it, if it was any good then every one would be all over it. Solomon is use to it, that's why it doesn't infect him.

Lucifer: He can speak, write and read different languages so he can be a prideful smug bitch when he can translate something the others can't

Mammon: He can tell if money is fake. No matter the currency. He can tell if it's fake.

Leviathan: Leaned to cook through cooking games and is actually really good at it.

Satan: Dispite not being able to stand Lucifer, he'll get PISSED if someone threatens him to his face.

Asmodeus: He as a "Blood Lust" side to him that rivals Satan's wrath. Best not to push his limits.

Beelzebub: He's physically the strongest brother.

Belphegor: He can see people dreams though dream catchers.

Thirteen: She's in a garage band where she's back up singer and guitarist. The group is called "The Reaper's Sythe".

Mel: I can't spell his fucking name so I'm calling him either Eggplant or Mel! Once made fault reports in the papers about Lucifer. Was personally told by Diavolo to stop in a not so friendly way with a "friendly" smile.

Raphael: He makes his weapons himself so he knows just what he needs and how he needs them.

[milijanakomad]

Product design and psychology: The Role of Grinding in Video Game Design

Keywords: Grinding, Video Gaming, Game Design, Player Engagement, Psychological Manipulation

Abstract:

This paper scrutinizes the utilization of "grinding" as a technique in video game design, particularly as a method of psychological manipulation that affects player engagement and behaviour. Case studies are explored to deliver a comprehensive understanding of the practical application of grinding and its implications, all from a product design viewpoint.

Introduction:

The design principles governing video games frequently incorporate mechanisms intended to stimulate player engagement and prolong interaction time. One such prevalent mechanism is "grinding," defined as the practice of executing repetitive tasks within the game environment to achieve specific objectives. While grinding can evoke a sense of achievement, it also carries the potential to induce exhaustion and frustration among players. This study endeavours to explore the intricacies of grinding, its role in game design, and its influence on player experience.

Explanation:

Coined from the concept of persistently "grinding away" at a task, the term "grinding" in the gaming context implies the undertaking of repetitive actions by a player to attain certain results or to advance within the game. In numerous instances, such actions may not directly correlate with the game's primary storyline or objectives but are aimed at accumulating experience points, in-game currency, or specialized items.

Grinding is an omnipresent component across a vast array of game genres, with its prominence notably manifested in Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games (MMORPGs). In these games, the player's progression and performance are often gauged based on their character's level, skills, and available equipment.

From the standpoint of game design, grinding assumes several roles. It serves to extend the game's lifespan by instituting goals that necessitate substantial time investment. Additionally, it fosters a sense of accomplishment and progression and can encourage social interaction in multiplayer environments. Despite these advantages, critics contend that grinding can lead to monotonous and ungratifying gameplay experiences. The considerable time commitment required by grinding may propel some players towards purchasing in-game enhancements using real-world money, thereby generating additional revenue for game developers.

Further, there is an ongoing discourse concerning the psychological implications of grinding. Its repetitive and rewarding nature might precipitate addictive behaviours and excessive consumption of time, mirroring the effects typically associated with gambling disorders. Through the exploration of these aspects, we aim to shed light on the complex dynamics of grinding in the context of modern video gaming.

Grinding in Gaming: Conceptualization and Design

Grinding typically refers to the act of performing repetitive actions in a game to attain a specific goal, often associated with levelling up, obtaining items, or advancing in-game skills. Although it can give players a sense of progression, it can also serve as a roadblock, encouraging players to consider alternative paths to progress, such as microtransactions.

Case Study: World of Warcraft

Blizzard Entertainment's World of Warcraft (WoW) extensively employs grinding. Players often engage in repetitive tasks like fighting the same enemies, repeatedly battling against non-player characters (NPCs), or completing the same quests to increase their character's level, to gain experience points, in-game currency, or rare items. This grind contributes to a sense of achievement but has also been criticized for sometimes leading to a tedious gameplay experience.

Case Study: Candy Crush Saga

King's Candy Crush Saga uses grinding as a monetization strategy. As players progress and levels become harder, the option to grind through the game becomes more attractive. Alternatively, players can buy power-ups and boosters to surpass the grind, effectively translating grinding mechanics into revenue for the game developers.

Case Study: Destiny 2

This game provides an example of a 'loot grind.' Players repeatedly complete activities like strikes, raids, or public events to earn 'engrams' – randomized gear drops. The goal is often to collect more powerful gear to increase a character's power level.

Case Study: Old School RuneScape 

In this MMORPG, players might grind by repetitively performing tasks like mining, fishing, or woodcutting. These actions, though monotonous, boost the player's skill levels, enabling them to perform new tasks, quests, or create new items.

Implications for Game Design

Grinding, while a tool to extend game playtime and potentially drive monetization, must be thoughtfully implemented to avoid player fatigue or burnout. Game designers should strike a balance between meaningful progression and repetitive grind, ensuring the game remains engaging and satisfying.

Conclusion

Grinding, as a mechanism of psychological manipulation in video game design, can greatly impact player behaviour and engagement. Striking a balance between challenge, satisfaction, and repetition is vital to ensure a rewarding gameplay experience. As the video game industry advances, it will be intriguing to observe the evolution and refinement of grinding mechanisms and their psychological impact on players.

References:

Sicart, M. (2013). Grinding in Games: Understanding the Appeal. Philosophy of Computer Games Conference, 8-11.

Hamari, J., Alha, K., Järvelä, S., Kivikangas, J. M., Koivisto, J., & Paavilainen, J. (2017). Why do players buy in-game content? An empirical study on concrete purchase motivations. Computers in Human Behavior, 68, 538-546. doi:10.1016/j.chb.2016.11.045

Blizzard Entertainment. (2004). World of Warcraft [Video Game]. Blizzard Entertainment.

King. (2012). Candy Crush Saga [Video Game]. King.

Bungie. (2017). Destiny 2 [Video Game]. Activision.

Jagex. (2013). Old School RuneScape [Video Game]. Jagex.

Yee, N. (2006). Motivations of play in online games. CyberPsychology & Behavior, 9(6), 772-775. doi:10.1089/cpb.2006.9.772

Johnson, M. R., & Woodcock, J. (2019). The impacts of live streaming and Twitch.tv on the video game industry. Media, Culture & Society, 41(5), 670-688. doi:10.1177/0163443718818363

King, D., Delfabbro, P., & Griffiths, M. (2010). Video game structural characteristics: A new psychological taxonomy. International Journal of Mental Health and Addiction, 8(1), 90-106. doi:10.1007/s11469-009-9206-4

Deterding, S., Dixon, D., Khaled, R., & Nacke, L. (2011). From game design elements to gamefulness: defining "gamification". MindTrek '11: Proceedings of the 15th International Academic MindTrek Conference: Envisioning Future Media Environments, 9-15. doi:10.1145/2181037.2181040

[floriansfurryfantasies]

The Outside World of Between Bramble & Briar.

On a continent, much like Europe, on an island country, much like Britain, is a county of rolling hills and dales. Home to settlements shrouded in a seemingly endless woodland, there live the Rohesian people of Between Bramble & Briar.

GEOGRAPHICAL SETTING

Country:~ Isle of Rohese ~"isle of the rose"

County:~ Dorndale ~"valley of thorns."

Cities:~

Dornbury, "borough of thorns.

Where the Rivers, Dourwent, and Swell converge sits the towering factory that runs the city's largest industry, the backbone of the county's wealth, Brusherby's Nutmill.

The location of Florian's Club: The Sanctuary.

Haeggham, "home of the hedge people."

The location of Lillie's University. An hour from Dornbury by train.

Towns & Villages:~

Swellford: a riverside town where a large weekly market is held. Many gather there to enjoy shopping, the tranquil riverside walk and quaint restaurants and cafés.

Malton: the town from which Arthur's mother hails. Home to the county's largest Malthouse and Mill, Burton Malthouse.

Briarbury: the village where Arthur's family home, Stanley House, stands. Its reputation is somewhat upper-class nowadays. Arthur still lives there. He takes the train home from the city. It's a short walk into Hedgley Woodhouse.

Hedgley Woodhouse: the hamlet where the Blackthorns live in Downey Cottage. The place Arthur would truly call home.

ROHESIAN CULTURE

Faith:~

Only in the last century was the Romulan Church disbanded in Rohese. Most clergy have fled, most returning to the Holy City of Albion. The rejection of the Romulan faith was enacted by the people's revolt and later sanctioned by the Parliament in reaction to the discovery of the Church's financial extortion of the Isle and Bank.

Elder folk have slowly reignited faith in Woden, Frig, etc, and now that new generations are aware of old beliefs, what has been named the Ageless Church has taken hold of youth culture. Those who practise the old faith honour nature instead of the previously worshipped Wolf, Romulus, Prophet of the Romulan Church.

Currency:~

Six centuries ago, the Romulan Church brought their Latini currency from Albion and gently converted the Rohesian market until the Sacer became the Isle's currency.

The Church's monetary scandal has since brought about a currency reform and the reminting of Shilli (Scillingas/Gold Shillings) and Coppar's (Copper pennies), the previous currency of the Isle. Paper money is simply called 'notes'. They are generally called "fivers" and "tenners." Twenty Shilli notes aren't used much by the general public.

Cuisine:~ 

Although spices are not commonplace on Rohese, wild herbs and sea salt are used as seasonings in native recipes. Due to livestock not being farmed, meat is rarely eaten, and if so, only on special occasions. However, fish, mushrooms, eggs, vegetables, berries and native fruit (apples, plums, pears, etc.), grains and nuts, their milk and cheese (and sometimes dairy products) are part of a standard Rohesian diet. Bread and Potatoes are considered staple foods.

Language:~

Although the story is written in Modern English, a dialect similar to Olde English and Welsh would be more prevalent in how Roh-folk speaks. However, as is to be expected, the Latin of the Romulan Church has influenced people's language.

Industry & Technology:~

Industry on Rohese is generally coal or hydro-powered. Trains, trams, and buses are the most prevalent forms of transport.

Few own cars, and as such, the market never really took off. Automobiles remain quite simplistic pieces of engineering (think: 1900s era)

Cellphones and computers have yet to be invented. House phones and public telephone boxes are standard ways to communicate outside the postal service.

Tag list:~ @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be on the BBB tag list too.

[7twdi29ot5y8og6ndze7m7wexn29cm24]

Where is my mind?

An abandoned oil rig stands in for the garden of Eden. A garden is a walled space with vegetation. It contains encrypted knowledge of good and evil. 777 terabytes of data contained in a single gram of DNA. Wiping a tear off your cheek. Salty.

The ocean is grey. Makes you feel like there's something wrong with it. What's the word? 'Contaminated' Mandate Tonic, Dance Titan Om, An albatross has swallowed an Evian bottle. When 2 become 1.

Like all people, they contained multitudes. Like all situations, this was several situations at once. sometimes I looked away and ate peanuts and drank Club Mate. Sometimes I thought about what time it was. Then I was on the verge of tears. Then I laughed a lot.

420 Park Avenue Drexciya François Rabelais Quake 7 Arena Caiman Nearness Arcane Sans Mine Amnesia Scanner

In a taxicraft. Magnetic hover. Tunnels. Plebs light fires and roast stray cats. Taste memory of gnawing on stringy cat meat. Cats are mostly bones and fur. Memories of paper money, also on fire. Memories of diamonds. Rare minerals, tea bowls repaired with gold. Kintsugi. Gnu I Kits. King Suit. Nothing less than a 1000 years old.

Street view, upper level: Gregorian monks in technical fabrics. Robes with mesh and intelligence. UV face tattoos glow in the dark. Yellow contacts, sharp fangs. Monks are chanting: Google Krishna, Shrinkage Go Lo, Angels Rig Hook, Regal Kings Ooh,

Ice cream melting on his chest. Yourdicklooksgreatinthoseheels.com Handguns, rare butterflies. elaborate prison tattoo of a tiger in mid leap. Augmented reality contact lenses. Red bull energy drink. Fleshlight. Shell fight. Septum streched, thicker rings are more beautiful. chain on neck. Bull ring on nose. Fake lashes. AFK lashes. Nails so long that these hands can no longer grab things. Voice control override. This could be us but you playin'

thunderdome thunderdome anagrams

We're gonna take everything before we secess. We need more weapons. Hi-speed Wi-Fi provided by drones is a given. Arab money in ciphered currencies. Treasure island. Buccaneers and buried gold.

A stream of more or less violent crimes. What was violence again?

Floor 312. We're there. I hand the driver a flake of skin and a fingernail.

The oil rig. A bird flies over. We extend our arm and stand completely still. Bird lands. Bird makes sound. Gently touch bird. It lets that happen. Bird says: ______________ . Identify bird: sparrow. Place filter on sparrow. Mosaic, turbulent displace, hue/saturation. Bird is simplified, jagged edges, orange for now.

scan

[shadowfoxsilver]

A quick reminder on how to spot a pet donation scam

Check the date of the pinned post. Is it a week old or only a few hours old? If timestamps are not on, tap/click the ‘…’ tab to see the exact date of posting. This will show you how old the post is. If it’s only a few hours old, take caution.

Check the other reblogged posts. Are they tagged or are they mass reblogged from only the OP? This usually shows someone is only sharing posts from a trending tag and are not interacting with other accounts. They may follow users but are not sharing their posts. Scammers like to share trending posts several times in order to look legitimate and hope no one scrolls too far down.

[tumblr] search the username. Don’t Google it. Please. Google rarely will show you what your looking for in this case and may misguide you into thinking the account is legitimate. [tumblr] search works just fine for looking up scam alerts. If none show up, the account likely is too new for any warnings. You can also search their Paypal name to see if anything shows up that relates to being a scam.

Did the ask request you to answer privately? Scammers want anonymity and don’t want anyone to find them. Their post is public. There is no reason to want the ask to be private. This is an attempt to hide how many other users have been sent the same ask. You can tumblr search the ask and see if it shows up sent to other blogs. The asks usually use emojis like 🙏 and ❤️ and even 🐈 and 😢.

If there’s a vet bill, does it match the country listed in the PayPal? Hover over the link/press and hold over it to see what the address bar says. If the post is USD it should say US or something similar. If it is something like PH, it’s likely a scammer. Legitimate PH addresses do exist! But they will usually provide a currency conversion in the post if their referring to USD. Also check the photos closely and see if the story doesn’t match up. Scammers like to mix and match a real post.

If your still unsure, ask the blog to provide more info about their pet and to write their name on a paper. Then tell them to put the paper on the pet and take a picture and post it. If they block you, without answering a legitimate concern, it’s a scammer.

Warn anyone whose shared the scam post and report the scam blog for phishing. Phishing is another kind of scam, but currently that is the only way to deal with scam accounts.

[alabonshay]

can you list some dendies cultural customs? I'm curious

// Pretty much anything the Victorians could or would enjoy, so would a dendie (minus the implications of real-life imperialism). The fun is explaining how it comes to be, which is always different.

Here's a few facts!

Dendies are a highly-social primate-like people. Like humans, they socialize and spend time in groups or they get lonely. Unless they are nobility, dendies are also parent-less, so they may treat a found group as their family. Being someone's daughter is a rare status symbol because only Duchesses reproduce.

They have a different concept of gender than humans but still feel strongly about it. Only the nobility are gendered as Lady, Duchess, Baron, etc. Each title implies a different gender. The rest of the population never thinks about this. They also refer to animals as its, or maybe he or she, depending on what kind/where they come from (sort of like wine). I'm undecided whether or not they make plant/animal life using empty quills, but they may rearrange some of the genes in the Lake to try and resurrect new species.

The majority of people live in towns in the Old World as tradespeople or work in the vast fields owned by Barons. (Barons are the lower nobility that oversee production.) They go to schools sponsored by their Church since that's their only hope of social mobility. Attitudes may be poor toward non-noble matriarchs and their families because only Duchesses and their clones are seen as legitimate, but some places are more welcoming than others.

The Viscountess Jarcounce, after escaping marriage to Lady Evergreen, stocks a shelf in an Old World grocery store. It is the better part of town (which means people are more likely to flirt with her than anything else).

Dendie nobility do not have money. They view money as a system for the poor. Official currency has not been minted for some time. Instead, dendies receive paper 'charts' of the goods they're owed, which are distributed to them by bureaucracy. (This is part of a law that lets the nobility to receive COPIOUS amounts of taxes from the Church based on their popularity. Kind of like a stock market for PR or social media Likes, which translates into things. They also don't want to count all the coinage.) However, most low-level markets simply toss around old coins or trade whatever they can find.

Dendies are terrified and fascinated by the Ocean in both worlds. In the new Sanctuary world, it is a huge, lifeless void of dark blue water. In the Old World, it is also pretty lifeless, but it branches into rivers that have some life. In either case, dendies consider the ocean their own version of hell. It has endless horror writing potential. Most children go through a phase where they're obsessed with fish the same way humans might be fascinated by dinosaurs.

The young Jargoon IV shows her mother her latest fixation.

Further reading:

Barons

Neck Etiquette

Quills (Crowns)

Sparkling Eyes

The Planet

[strawbrerian-writes]

The Groundwork

This is a prequel of sorts to the other two fics I've uploaded for Elucien week. I struggled for a bit with the prompt, so it's shorter but I think it's still sweet.

for @elucienweekofficial

Summary:

Lucien has the opportunity to watch a master courtier at work when he's tasked with escorting on of his brother's to a meeting in the Hewn City.

****

Lucien had been at court most of his life. He’d learned at an early age the power and currency of information, and how to retrieve it from whomever he needed to. He made friends easily and could create associates out of thin air. A little flirting, a little drinking, a little dancing, and he could pull secrets from even the most rigid of courtiers.

It was a talent.

He thrived in the controlled chaos of court politics.

“Lord Aodhan, please let me carry that. I know you must be exhausted after last night’s revelry.”

But Elain? Elain excelled.

He watched her swoop in, long golden-brown hair tied half up with a dark grey ribbon to match her low cut grey gown, and take the stack of papers out of his brother’s hands. Aodhan was careless, ignorant, vain even. He would assume Elain meant to serve him, as any female in Autumn would have been expected to, regardless of their status. He let her take the papers with little more than a curt nod and a grunt.

Of all his brothers, Aodhan was the least civilized and the closest to him in age. Half a head shorter than himself, Aodhan was the spitting image of a younger Beron. He had rich brown hair and eyes so dark they were nearly black. He was rangy and, if Lucien were being honest, had a feral look to him at times. With the exception of a crooked nose gifted to him by his father as a child, one could easily mistake him for the deceased High Lord.

“I thought you were kicked out of this court?” Aodhan huffed out. His voice was always hoarse, as if he had a constant sore throat. Though Lucien suspected it was because the male rarely spoke.

Lucien caught Elain’s surreptitious glances at the papers in her hand as Aodhan returned to conversation with him. They were on their way to a meeting between Night and Autumn in the Hewn City, where they were expected to gather information from Eris’ courtiers while Rhysand attempted to shore up whatever alliance he and the newly crowned High Lord had once had.

He’d thought the work assigned to him was more suited for the shadowsinger. Courtiers networked. This was pure spy work. Alas, old habits die hard and as long as Eris was in the city, Azriel would not leave Mor’s side.  

Elain was the one who’d suggested Aodhan as the weak link.  She’d watched him the previous night, ducking into corners and standing apart. He didn’t join the revelry, but he did drink. That had made her believe he wasn’t abstaining to keep a clear head. “Perhaps he might feel uncomfortable enough to make mistakes, give us what we want,” she’d explained her reasoning to him that morning.

Lucien had already known this. He’d already targeted Aodhan himself, if only because this brother was the least likely of his four remaining brothers to try and stab him for saying hello. Two of the four hated his guts, and Eris would stab him for shits and giggles.

He let Elain plead her case though and never said a word. He’d watched Elain all night. She’d barely given anything away as she stood above the denizens of the Hewn City, looking bored and out of place. She was a good actress. She continually gave the appearance of a trembling fawn in a room full of wolves. Lucien, though, had already learned what fire lay beneath those doe eyes of hers.

Still, the act was enough to keep eyes off of her. She was a novelty, not a threat or even good entertainment, to the mountain dwelling fae.

“Brother, please, I’ve never been kicked out of any court,” Lucien crooned at the older male. He kept a lazy grin on his face. “I’ve left on my own two feet every time. So what if I burned a few bridges on my way out? I’ve yet to be kept from anywhere.”

Aodhan snorted. “If you say so.” Lucien knew what his brother implied.

“I chose never to go back home,” he said nonchalantly, waving a large hand in front of them. It was a half-truth. They both knew it. “Autumn females are all the same anyway.”

He heard a tiny squeak behind him, glancing to see Elain glare at him. His brother, seeming not to notice, merely grunted in reply.  

Lucien chanced to look at Elain again, trailing a respectful distance behind them as if she were serving the two males. She looked the part, demure and respectful, as she followed them through the dimly lit halls of Rhysand’s Nightmare Court. He could barely make out the little wrinkle between her brows, betraying her efforts to concentrate.

She had been working hard since Koschei’s defeat to harness her gifts more properly. She had learned that by concentrating on certain items, she could call up visions. Lucien knew that was the true intent beyond taking the stack of papers from Aodhan. Elain was trying to track the magic – whether it be a glimpse of the writer, or a indication of the intent behind it.

A very handy gift, she had.

“Are you coming home for Eris’ birthday party?” Aodhan asked, breaking his reverie. They were standing outside the carved doors to the meeting room.

Lucien blinked, speechless. What had he just asked? Aodhan looked at him, face unreadable.

“Father’s dead, Lucy,” Aodhan said in that quiet, hoarse voice of his, using the nickname they’d given him as a youngling. “You can come home.”

He was stunned, mouth parted in slight shock. He didn’t know what to say. Of his remaining brothers, Aodhan was least likely to kill him. He was also unlikely to stop anyone else from doing the job. Life had sucked all the compassion out of his brother long ago, or so he thought. So, for the shorter male to extend the invitation…Lucien truly didn’t know how to react.

“Will there be cake?” Elain interjected brightly.  

The two males turned to her. Her face had lit up. She cradled the papers in her arms, her smile disarming.

Aodhan looked at her for a long moment. He just seemed to realize she was there, and that she was not dressed as a servant. Her low-cut grey gown was unassuming at first glance but on closer inspection it was brilliantly tailored, with fine black embroidery along the hemline. Lucien watched as the male finally grasped that he was standing next to the High Lady’s sister, the seer, essentially a princess of the night court – and his brother’s mate.   

“Y-yes, my lady,” his brother answered, taking a moment to clear his throat. “A spiced rum cake. We will also have cinnamon apple tarts and fresh cider. And the finest wine in Autumn for your drinking pleasure.”

“I prefer whiskey,” Elain shrugged, still smiling.  

Aodhan’s face split into a wide toothy grin – maybe the first Lucien had ever seen on his brother that wasn’t a result of some terrible thing. He almost looked handsome that way. “Oh, I like her Lucy,” he addressed Lucien first, still smiling at Elain. “Autumn’s Fire Whiskey is unmatched in all of Prythian, Lady Elain.”

“Then we will have to go!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. Lucien was dumbfounded. What just happened? “Won’t we…Lucy?”

“If my lady wishes,” he replied, shooting her a scowl over his brother’s head. That better not stick.

“She wishes,” Elain replied cheekily. She nodded towards the large doors they were still in front of. “We’ve arrived, Lord Aodhan. If you want to take your papers and go in, I’m sure the meeting will start shortly.”

His brother nodded, taking the stack from Elain’s arms. He was no longer smiling, but his visage seemed more at ease. He cocked his head slightly, brown waves brushing across his forehead. “You will not be joining us?”

Elain shook her head, waving an elegant hand. “No, I’m not much for court politics if I’m being honest.” Liar. “Though I’m sure I’ll see you at dinner?” She phrased it as a question.

“If you’ll have me, Lady Elain.”

“Of course we’ll have you! I’ll inform the High Lord and Lady immediately. What is your favorite meal, my lord?”

Cauldron she was good at this.  

Aodhan stuttered and had to clear his throat a second time. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, my lady.”

Mother’s tits, was he blushing? Lucien had never once known the male to blush or stutter or even treat a female with such…respect. Sure, they’d had etiquette drilled into them from birth, but Aodhan was…Aodhan. He was feral, vain, ignorant.

He was a stuttering, blushing, idiot over Lucien’s mate.

Lucien had to tamp down the urge to rip his brother’s throat out. Ruse or not, he was jealous.

“Nonsense!” Elain touched his arm, her hand lingering for a moment. “You are my guest tonight, Aodhan. Now tell me, what will you have?”

“I like roast duck,” Aodhan stated a little shyly. The tips of his arched ears were turning red.

Lucien was two short steps from losing his shit in this hallway.

“Then I will inform the cooks immediately. You will have to give me details about the party this evening, Lord Aodhan. I’ll need to start preparing as soon as possible. You’ll give me ideas for gifts for your brother, wont you?” Elain grinned widely.

“Humiliate Lucien,” Aodhan threw him a smirk. “That would make Eris’ night.”

Elain laughed, her head thrown back exposing a long column of creamy white skin and cascading golden brown curls. Lucien couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She was so fucking good at this.

“Thank you, brother. She’ll be a menace now,” Lucien said drily. “Now if you’ll please go in, I need a word with Lady Elain before she leaves.”

Aodhan glared at him. “Fine, I’ll see you in there.” He turned to Elain and dipped his head. “A pleasure, my lady.”

She curtsied, dark navy gown flaring.

As soon as the wooden doors were closed, Lucien threw up a ward silencing them. “What the hell was that?”

Elain’s grin could’ve split her face in two. “Everyone is going to be so drunk at Eris’ party, it’d be the perfect opportunity for us to gather some information. Rhysand is worried that Eris is going to rescind his part of the treaty over Montserre and what better opportunity than –”

“You were flirting with him,” Lucien interrupted with a snarl. He didn’t give a flying fuck about politics or treaties or stupid fucking parties. “You touched him.”

“I did,” she challenged, grin still plastered to her face. “And I will do it again if it gets us what we want.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he gritted out. He was trying to be impassive. But his mate was touching another male – his brother, even – in front of him.

Elain stepped so close that she had to tilt her head up to see him, so close that with every breath her chest brushed against his. “I’m just doing what you taught me,” she crooned, tongue darting out to lick the corner of her lips. “Now be a good boy, and don’t fuck up my progress.”

Gods, but he loved her mouth.

Lucien froze. Every muscle in his body went taut, the golden thread between them humming as it made its presence known again.

He loved her.

Lucien Vanserra loved his mate.

He was so stunned, so…amazed at how simple that fact was that he was too petrified to do a damn thing about it.

Lucien, you ready? Feyre’s voice broke in. We’re waiting on you.

“I’m…just joking, Lucien,” she stammered, withdrawing. She looked small, timid again. Not the fierce courtier he’d just seen.

“No! No no!” He nearly shouted, grabbing her shoulders. He rubbed at them awkwardly but couldn’t bring himself to drop his hands. “Feyre, um…they’re ready for me.”

��Oh!” she breathed a soft sigh. Then, she laughed softly under her breath. “Don’t you hate when they do that?”

“I loathe it,” Lucien grinned, brushing his hands along her arms as he dropped them. He could feel the goosebumps erupt on her skin, watch the rising blush along her neck. “Am I allowed at dinner, too?”

“Of course!” Elain smiled at him. Her face was glowing. “I’m still learning how to be a good courtier, of course. I need to observe a master at work.”

“You’re already perfect, Elain,” he told her softly, truthfully.

Her breath hitched. He felt her end of the bond grow warm.   

“I’ll see you this evening,” she said breathlessly. Elain turned and fled down the hall as the doors began to creak open.

Lucien could see everyone gathered beyond the arching doorway. They were waiting for him.

He just had to look at her one more time.

Elain had turned back, face blushed, lips parted into the widest smile he’d ever seen.

She was beautiful. She was brilliant.

One day, somehow, she’d be his.   

[rayslittlekitten]

20 Questions for fanfic writers!

Thank you for the tag @spaghettificationandpretzels and @reggiesfilthylittlesecret

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

137 according to AO3 although a whole bunch of single fics are part of a larger series.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 331,892

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The mains ones are:

Sons of Anarchy

The Gentlemen

Triple Frontier

I dabble in adjacent fandoms some times if I'm inspired.

4. Top five fics by kudos

I Almost Told You That I Loved You (Jax Teller x F!Reader) - 217

Grumpy Old Man (Joel Miller x GN!Reader) - 161

Bad (Jax Teller x F!Reader) - 144

Husband Duties (Will Miller x Wife F!Reader) - 115

Daddy's Little Princess (Daddy Dom!Raymond Smith x Little F! Reader) - 115

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes especially because they are rare.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angstiest is subjective lol. But also some of the angstiest stuff I've written doesn't have an ending yet so if I go for completed fics, probably between:

Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls (Dieter Bravo x OFC) Excess Baggage (Will Miller x Ex Wife F! Reader) Distraction (Ben Miller x F! Reader)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I have a few but the first one that comes to my mind is:

Wanna Be (Will Miller x BFF F! Reader)

That whole entire series has my heart. Worth the pay off at the end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Rare but it happens.

9. Do you write smut?

Oh yeah!

10. Craziest crossover?

I haven't done many crossovers but it would probably be The Gentlemen and Triple Frontier.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I mean, I never did. If someone went ahead and did that without my permission, I have no idea.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A very very VERY long time ago, my cousin and I co-wrote Backstreet Boys fics when we were teenagers.

14. All time favourite ship?

Okay so most of my "OCs" are reader characters but they really should be OCs and my fave is probably Jax and Opie's sister.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I will finish all of them one day even if it takes me 50 years.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have a very vivid imagination so how I usually write is I write what I see in my head, like I'm directing a movie and translating that onto paper. I like to include all the senses if possible to help the reader immerse themselves in the story and I'm big on feelings. When I write the angsty stuff, sometimes it can take a bit of a toll on me because I channel the character and feel all those things so i can regurgitate it back for the reader. It's very cathartic too.

Also banter! I love writing banters.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I have a tendency to write reader characters/OCs very similar and I'm trying to be more aware of it to adapt to what the story needs. I also feel like I'm not detailed enough. Again, I write like I'm directing a movie so sometimes they come off more screenplay-ish.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I've used some Spanish here and there but not like an entire conversation.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

The very very first fandom I've ever written in is the Backstreet Boys fandom and I was like 14.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

This is like asking me who is my favorite child. I refuse to answer this 🤣 I love each and every one of them for different reasons.

no pressure tags: @deathbecomesnerds @laurfilijames @artemiseamoon @lovebarefootblonde @salt-is-a-terrible-currency

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The well-wisher

Elja was a collector of coins. A currency enthusiast, who rejoiced at every opportunity to study them up close. A numismatist, who liked to feel their weight in her palms, to trace the engraving of their faces, to run her fingertip around their slender curves. She was a curator, who carefully assessed her finds before she chose where they would best be placed.

Or, as the locals called it, a thief.

As collections went, it was ambitious in its scope. Elja scooped up all manner of coins, old or new, local or foreign - those with rare, valuable defects, and those which were just tarnished with time. Her purse was a broad church, and she accepted those of all denominations. She took from the rich and she took from the poor, from beggars and barons, and even from other thieves, in her endless accumulation of most things metal and round.

But only coins. There were travellers with paper money, or ingots, arm-bands and other exonumia, and she let them keep the change from those exchanges. She mined any pocket in her reach, her burrowing fingers seeking out copper, iron, silver, gold, each treasure held as equal in her eyes, but only if it wore the right designs. Symbols were important. Words, too.

There was a well, in the village. A wishing well. It took coins, as well, and gave out wishes in return. One each. Most of the local kids had wasted theirs, on the latest toys or sugared treats; her brother, Aaton, had spent his on the promise of going to space. Some of them came true, some not - or at least not yet. They were made without thinking, and forgotten just as easily.

But Elja had saved her wish. She was waiting, she said, when they asked why she wouldn't play along: waiting on the right idea, to know what she wanted most in life, too hard to discern as a child. Aaton used to tease her for that - for taking it too seriously, too afraid of waste to ever use it up at all. But when he'd gone missing, a few years back, she'd wasted no time in wishing for him to be found.

It hadn't come true - not yet - but that was okay. Elja had failed to specify a deadline. She knew that these things took time; that she couldn't expect her dream to be granted within the day, the week, the month, the year. She had merely set the vast clockwork of fate in motion, and now she had to wait for it to bring about her happy ever after. Aaton was still young. He would have plenty of time to travel the stars, after he came home. They all still had time.

That was, until the coin thief came to town.

It hadn't been a massive score. Not the sort of heist that would go down in local legend, nor attract much notoriety. Most people hadn't even noticed what they'd lost. But Elja did. She liked to visit the fountain, some days, when she missed her brother more than most. To gaze into the peaceful waters, and remind them of their promise. Except that one day, the promises had gone. The well was empty. The waters were bare.

The thief had paid his own visit to the well, and his wish had been for a bagful of wet coins; with one small act of petty greed, he had dashed any chance of her own dream coming true, of her own nightmare coming to an end. All hope was lost. So Elja had set out to find it again: to track down the thief, recover his loot, and return it to its rightful place. To restore the terms of their agreement.

When she found him, it was too late. Most of the coins had been spent, frittered away on indulgences around the town, and he couldn't even tell her where they'd gone. The people he'd paid soon spent them in turn, and they passed from hand to hand on a hundred different paths, rippling away from that epicentre. Difficult to trace. Difficult to reclaim.

Thus Elja began her collection. She sifted through the riverbeds of people's bags, panned her way through their pockets, identifying coins of the right age, the right level of wear, nothing too shiny or new. She identified the wishes, redeemed or not. The aura of hope, or despair, or desperation.

Those she found, she returned. Where most thieves might accumulate a hoard of plundered treasure, saving to buying an honest life, or retained as trophies of their conquests, her coins went straight into a hole in the ground. She restored them to their rightful resting place, back where they belonged, in the hope that it would bring the wishes back as well. Hoping, if she returned what the well had lost, that it might yet do the same for her.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Excerpt From The Last Wrath:

Context: While travelling across the continent and hiding his identity, Darian becomes lost in the swirling streets of the city of Faravvia. Attacked by an unsightly thief, the last thing he expected was to be saved by an unexpected duo... and to encounter a face from his past.

Darian walked through the white marble streets, his woven hood hiding his features from curious onlookers, even in this foreign market. Every sound around him should mask his steps, every color help him blend into the shadows - at least, he hoped so. With only a clue to guide him towards his missing friend, Darian could not afford his own enemies to find him now. In other times, he would have found this city a wondrous sight, with its clean marble streets and colorful stalls of cloth, scented candles in paper streetlights above painting the city a myriad of colors on the light of a full morning sun - compared to his iron-forged home kingdom, this would have been paradise. 

But no place was, not anymore. 

The city’s beauty did not outshine its many dangers. Even far from home, Darian knew that one look on his face would be enough for a lucky bounty hunter to recognize a paycheck. His father’s reputation preceded them both. Darian could not help but feel like the eyes of each passerby were burning into him. Even though they were not. A part of him just wanted to go home, to be safe - to, for once, actually listen to his father asking him to stay out of the war. But he knew that was no longer possible, and even if it was, he had a promise to fulfill. 

Darian clutched the small parchment scroll in his hand tightly, a strange name and rank scribbled in black ink during the middle of the night - his only chance to find and save his friend, resting on ink upon paper. 

Now, he only had to find a way to enter enemy territory. Safe passage from the Free Realms and into the Morosyn Empire was a rare currency, and it was about to become even rarer, with the recent tensions at the borders. If he wanted to reach Tanwin, he’d have to be fast. And smart. 

Trapped in his musings, confused by the buzzling crowds and twisting streets, Darian failed to notice the direction he was headed in, how his surroundings turned from beautiful to strange and finally decrepit - until he reached a dead end.

He froze, suddenlly all too aware of where he was. The smell of damp wood surrounded him, and rats scurried along cracks beneath the buildings, ragged cloth curtains flowing slightly in the breeze. Darian was sure that this place was not where he was supposed to be, not if he wanted to get out of the city alive. He scrambled back, trying to figure out the path he’d taken here, when a figure slipped out of the shadows behind him, slowly walking his way. 

“Well, what h’ve we here? Pesky little rich brat, got lost on yer way h’me?”

The man slithered towards him, dirty clothes stained with wine from his recent visit to a local tavern. Darian swallowed, blood roaring behind his ears as he flittingly around him, trapped. Hands shaking, he finally found his voice. “I just want to be on my way, sir. I - I am not looking for any trouble.”

The thief laughed, throwing his matted head of hair back. 

For the first time, Darian wished he’d taken his father’s fighting lessons seriously, as he chillingly realized he wasn’t getting out of this without a fight. Which he did not know how to do.

“All posh an’ proper, callin’ me sir…. We won’t h’ve trouble, kid, if you hand over yer coin,” He paused “and that fancy little ring”

No. Darian’s blood ran cold. He had only enough coin to buy him the passage he needed to cross into the Empire. His father’s signet ring was his only memory of home to hold onto, the last thing from his past that he had after entering this quest, after nearly losing everything multiple times. Darian hadn’t had time to say goodbye when he left home to save Tanwin. This ring, it was his last sense of security. And it was also his only ticket for help should he need to contact the rebellion. He was not going to let them take this too.

Darian held his ring hand closed to his chest. Recoiling back, away from the approaching threat, Darian hope his glare was more intimidating than it felt.  “Well, I am not giving you anything.” His voice shook, betraying him.

“Tryin’ to be defiant, are ya?” The man sneered “I’m not in the mood for games, brat. If yer not gonna hand ‘em over, I guess me an’ my associates” He made a gesture as he stepped forward, two new figures following him from where they’d hidden in the shadows of the murky alleyway. “Are gonna h’ve to take it by force. How ‘bout we start by choppin’ off that pretty little ring finger right there?”

Darian stammered, shaking like a leaf, as the new figures prepared to pounce. He didn’t want to die - not today, not ever. The thief snarled, whipping out a wickedly sharp dagger from his jacket, the blade glistening in the dull light. There was nowhere to run, and Darian braced himself for the worst.

“Back off from the kid, jackass.”

A new voice broke through the stale silence, making Darian jump. The rugged thief turned around, stopping his imminent approach. Darian held himself back from breathing a sigh of relief - he wasn’t out of danger yet. 

“What’d ya just say -”

A loud punch rang out, cutting the thief off mid-phrase. The newcomer caught the falling thief, twisting the man’s arm behind his back and placing a dagger of his own at his throat. “I said: back off.”

The thief whined, lifting his free hand to try and land a hit at the young man behind him, who was faster. His dagger flashed out in one swift motion, slicing the man’s hand clean off. The thief’s “associates” were too stunned to move. 

Behind him, another figure came, wielding a small sword in her hands, appeared from the shadows. She glared at the fearstruck thieves, a warning. The thieves glanced at each other, uncertain. 

“Anyone else want a lesson on manners?” The tan young man called out, standing tall as he pointed his bloodied dagger at the murmuring robbers, who instantly fell silent. “I thought so. Now, pick up your stuff -” He jerked his head at the leader, who was now writhing on the floor, “- And skedaddle. Or else you jerks will be on the receiving end of my - and hers - next move. Your choice, but I ain’t got all day.”

He adjusted his dagger in his hand, grasping it tighter, as the girl behind him leveled the sword in her hands, taking a step forward. Darian swore that, if looks could kill, the stare the young man gave the crooks would have them out cold. The thieves nodded between themselves, fumbling as they dragged their leader behind them scorfully, under the duo’s steady watch, and skittered away back from the shadows they came from. 

Darian only gawked, shifting his feet under him.

It didn’t take long until the thieves were completely out of sight. The young man with the dagger rolled his eyes, adopting a more relaxed stance as he pulled out a purple handkerchief from his pocket, beginning to carefully wipe the blood off his dagger. “You sure this kid is the one?” He said, discarding the dirty cloth into a gutter on the side with a look of faint disgust. Briefly, he checked the blade in the sunlight, before pocketing it. The girl nodded enthusiastically, but seemed suddenly unsure.

For the first time, Darian realized that they were looking for him. Newfound dread replaced his relief almost instantly. But instead of doing anything to threaten him, they just stood and watched, the girl sheathing her sword. She stepped forward, gently, tilting her head to get a better look at him, wringing her hands as if trying to figure out what to say.

“Um, you’re Darian, aren’t you?”

Darian hesitated, as if recognizing a ghost. Something about those eyes. He’d seen them before. A long time ago. Those same anxious hands, those deep green eyes behind strands of hazel… and that blinding smile.  This could only be one person, and yet it couldn’t.

“Wait… Seira?”

The girl nodded, nearly cheering as she pulled him into a crushing hug, lifting Darian off the ground. He was speechless for a moment, though he didn’t know if it was from the shock of this reunion or the strength of her arms almost crushing his ribs. 

“How - Wait, how can this be possible? After all those years - you, here… I thought you were dead!” Darian exclaimed, catching his breath, as she slowly released him back to the ground. Behind her, the young man that saved him looked around, as if expecting another thief to pop out of the shadows. 

Seira chuckled, straightening out his crumpled robes.

“I’m very much alive, thank you. It’s a very long story, but I can’t wait to tell you all about it!  What are you doing here?”

Before Darian could begin to explain, the young man walked up to them, interrupting them both. “It’s all well and good, I know.” He placed a hand at his hip. “Childhood friend reunion and all that! But before any of us get into any explaining, we should get out of here. We don’t know if those guys are going to call for ‘backup’, and I am not particularly keen on staying around to find out.”

Seira nodded. “Where should we go, Lukan?

“I know a place, just try not to call any attention to yourselves, and we’ll make it there just fine. I hope.”

Taglist (to read this story bit) @moonandris @lassiesandiego @lyutenw @conkers-theficwriter @elshells @jasperygrace @clairelsonao3 @repressed-and-depressed @macabremoons @rickie-the-storyteller @jay-avian @aziz-reads

[wizswritingworkshop]

Deep Blue

My first ever fanfiction, written instead of final papers :p

Apologies ahead of time for any issues, like formatting and whatnot, because I'm rather new to the site

Short fic, just some light lesbian fluff

Ganyu was warm. Warm and soft.

            Keqing was unable to sleep. Work had been tough today, and she still wasn’t happy with the current draft of a trade agreement with the Inazuman Shogunate for a shipment of Amakumo fruit. But looking at her girlfriend, sleeping so peacefully right next to her, made her feel better. Or at least less frustrated.

            The two of them used to be extreme workaholics. It was hard not to, helping run the nation that minted currency for the entire continent, as well as hosting the largest trading hub. There were always ships coming into harbor, architects submitting requests for building permits, and Fatui doing whatever sly things they could to gain the upper hand.

Keqing had always been travelling across Liyue, from Blackcliff Forge to Wangshu Inn, as she preferred a more hands-on approach to governance. It was not uncommon for workers to get a surprise visit from the Yuheng, asking for a set of equipment so that she could see what working conditions were like for herself. On top of that, Treasure Hoarders were always a problem throughout Liyue, and it wasn’t uncommon for a group to try and rob her while on the road. Due to this, she rarely got to sleep in her own bed, often finding a tree on the side of the road to rest under and dress her wounds.

As the general secretary for the Liyue Qixing, Ganyu got out less, but by no means was her job any easier. Everything done in Liyue led to paperwork and contracts, and someone had to organize and write it all up. Any complaint, suggestion, or request sent to the Qixing went through Ganyu first, of which there were always many. Ganyu would often forego a regular sleep schedule in favor of naps, usually on a couch somewhere in Yuehai Pavilion. Once, another secretary found her sleeping standing up, holding a stack of reports for Ningguang.

            But one day, they caught each other’s eyes, and fell in love. It started simply. Keqing would bring some fresh-cut Qingxin, and Ganyu would sign any papers for Keqing with a little heart. Slowly, they started finding excuses to spend more time together, like looking over renovation plans for the Feiyun Commerce Guild. But one day, they both used their first vacation day ever, and went on a walk around the Harbor.

It was an area they were both deeply familiar with, but it was another thing entirely to experience it at their own pace. The sound of seagulls scrabbling over dropped food, crashing waves against the sturdy stone, and the soft sea breeze. The sound of merchants peddling wares, deckhands climbing rigging, and children playing games. It was all so new to them. At one point, Ganyu put her hand in Keqing’s. Keqing tried to act nonchalant about it, but secretly, she hoped to never let go.

            Keqing wondered what Ganyu was dreaming about. Work? The adepti? A past lover?

            …Her?

            She was still not used to thinking of Ganyu as anything more than a coworker, let alone her girlfriend, but every time she did, she felt her face heat up and her heart skip a beat. And now, she got that feeling every morning. They had bought a simple 2 room apartment above Xinyue Kiosk, and now kept each other to a “reasonable” workday of “only” 18 hours, as well as eating at least one meal a day, usually together. The bed was small, but Keqing didn’t mind. Ganyu always faced towards the center of the bed to sleep, as she worried of accidentally poking Keqing with her horns while she slept, and Keqing faced towards the middle as well, because it gave her a view in the morning to rival any sunrise.

            Keqing studied every detail in front of her. The smooth blue hair that waved in the nighttime wind. The small little nose used to smell the glaze lilies around Yujing Terrace. The beautiful supple lips that moved ever so slightly as breath passed through them. And her eyes. Even though they were closed, Keqing could remember every minute detail. The way they went from an ageless amber, to a fresh sweet orange, to a blue deeper than the sea. Keqing got lost in them the very first time she looked at them. It felt like she spent hours studying them, exploring their depths, but it was less than a second.

            And now, those beautiful eyes were looking right back.

            Ganyu giggled, and Keqing immediately turned bright red. She still felt embarrassed about being caught admiring her girlfriend, despite laying in the same bed as her every night. Ganyu pulled her closer, and the red turned several shades brighter.

            They kissed. Keqing never knew how to describe it, as her mind always went blank. Perhaps the kiss of an adeptus was a blessing that mortals were never supposed to receive, a power so potent it overwhelmed the mind. Perhaps this was how all kisses were, mortals and gods alike being stunned to silence. Perhaps Keqing was too busy enjoying it in the moment, that it never occurred to her to try to keep the memory. But one thing was for sure.

            It was bliss.

[milijanakomad]

Product design and psychology: Exploring Gacha Mechanics in Video Game Design

Keywords: Gacha Mechanics, Gaming Industry, Psycho-Manipulation, Player Behavior, Case Studies

Abstract:

This research paper delves into the intricate relationship between game design and psychology, with a concentrated focus on 'Gacha' mechanics prevalent in the gaming sector. Originating from Japanese toy vending machines, the Gacha system has grown to be a powerful tool in shaping player behaviour. The paper illuminates the conceptual framework underlying Gacha mechanics, emphasizing its capabilities in manipulating player actions and decisions. Through an exhaustive examination, this study presents a detailed understanding of its psycho-manipulative attributes and supports its findings with specific case studies from the gaming industry. The work serves as a comprehensive exploration of the influence and ramifications of Gacha mechanics in contemporary game design.

Introduction:

The Gacha system, inspired by Japanese toy vending machines, stands as a hallmark strategy in the contemporary gaming industry. Fundamental to its design is the 'loot box' principle, where players invest financially with hopes of securing a randomized item, the allure of which varies in rarity. Beyond mere chance-based rewards, this mechanic intriguingly intersects with deep-rooted psychological tendencies, captivating human desires for unpredictable outcomes and rewards. Such mechanics are not mere playful inclusions; they strategically bolster player retention and significantly influence revenue streams. As the following sections will expound upon, the Gacha system is much more than a gaming novelty; it carries potent psycho-manipulative attributes. Through a detailed exploration, this paper seeks to unravel the underlying psychological tenets that grant Gacha mechanics their notable efficacy, further enriching the discourse with industry-specific case studies that spotlight its transformative impact.

Theoretical Foundation of Gacha Mechanics:

Gacha mechanics, now pervasive in the gaming industry, find their roots in the foundational theories of behavioral psychology, particularly the principles outlined by B.F. Skinner concerning operant conditioning. Delving deeper into the theoretical underpinnings of Gacha mechanics, we encounter an alignment with Skinner's variable-ratio schedule—a schedule of reinforcement wherein responses are reinforced after an unpredictable number of responses. This unpredictable nature of reinforcement, as Skinner posited, leads to high rates of response, which persists even in the sporadic or even absent delivery of rewards.

Such a system bears stark resemblance to the operations of Gacha mechanics in games. For instance, in "Fire Emblem Heroes," players use virtual currency—either organically accrued within the game or procured through real-world monetary transactions—to obtain randomized characters. The exhilaration associated with acquiring a rare and formidable character, with its inherent unpredictability, mirrors the principles of gambling, a pursuit universally acknowledged for its addictive qualities. Drawing a parallel, "Genshin Impact" deploys a similar methodology, allowing players to utilize Primogems, the in-game currency, to secure weapons or characters, each acquisition bearing its own element of unpredictability and potential reward.

In essence, these game designs intricately weave the principles of operant conditioning into their fabric, utilizing the powerful allure of unpredictable rewards to foster player engagement. Such mechanisms, grounded in well-established psychological theories, underscore the reason for the profound addictiveness and wide-reaching success of Gacha-based games in contemporary gaming culture.

The Psychological Framework of Gacha Mechanics:

Gacha mechanics can be analysed through the lens of operant conditioning, specifically Skinner's variable-ratio reinforcement schedule. This schedule, characterized by delivering rewards after an unpredictable number of responses, results in a high response rate and resistance to extinction. This parallels the randomized reward mechanism in Gacha systems, which fosters a sense of persistent anticipation and engagement in players.

The Psycho-Manipulative Dimension:

The realm of Gacha mechanics, deeply entrenched in the gaming industry, employs an array of psychologically manipulative strategies designed to maintain player engagement and promote continued monetary investments. Central to this design are mechanisms such as the 'near-miss effect and the 'sunk cost' fallacy, which, when operationalized, tap into core human cognitive tendencies.

The 'near-miss effect is particularly intriguing. It is inextricably tied to the psychological construct of cognitive dissonance, a state wherein players, upon achieving an outcome tantalizingly close to the desired result, experience a tension between expectation and reality. This tension acts as a catalyst, driving players towards further attempts in the game with the hope of reconciling their near victories with an eventual success. The result is an increased commitment, both in terms of time and financial resources.

Complementing this is the 'sunk cost fallacy.' Here, players, having already invested significant amounts into the game, feel compelled to continue their engagement and expenditure to justify their prior commitments. Rather than cutting losses and ceasing further investment, the players become ensnared in a self-perpetuating cycle, driven by the rationale that prior investments must not be rendered futile.

In synthesizing these observations, it becomes evident that Gacha mechanics do not operate in isolation. Instead, they deftly intertwine with key psychological processes, cultivating an environment where players are subtly steered towards continued engagement and, more critically, perpetual investment.

Further Psychological Aspects:

The Zeigarnik effect, where people remember uncompleted tasks better than completed ones, also fuels Gacha mechanics. Incomplete character collections or unachieved rarities compel players to persist. Moreover, the endowed progress effect, where players are more motivated if they perceive they've made some progress, is strategically utilized by Gacha games, often providing a few free pulls or easy-to-earn currencies early on.

Ethical Considerations and Policy Implications:

Gacha mechanics, while undeniably advantageous for bolstering the financial health of gaming companies, stand at the crossroads of significant ethical dilemmas. At the heart of this quandary is their inherent resemblance to gambling paradigms, a feature that holds the potential to cultivate and reinforce addictive tendencies. Such mechanics, with their random reward structures, might not only be captivating but also perilous, especially when considering vulnerable demographics such as minors. Given these potent implications, it is imperative to not only recognize but also proactively address these ethical challenges. As underscored in this paper, there emerges a pressing necessity for the formulation and enforcement of comprehensive regulations and industry-wide norms. Such initiatives would not only safeguard the interests of players but also act as a bulwark against the possible misuse and overextension of these mechanics. In framing these policies, special emphasis should be placed on mitigating potential harm, with particular attention directed towards safeguarding vulnerable populations like minors from the more deleterious influences of Gacha systems.

Case Studies from the Gaming Industry:

Case Study 1: Fire Emblem Heroes

In "Fire Emblem Heroes," the use of the Gacha system has resulted in a highly engaged player base. Players use virtual currency to summon random heroes, with rarer heroes having lower chances of being pulled. The uncertainty of outcomes has been linked to elevated dopamine levels in the brain, thereby creating a pleasurable feedback loop that reinforces the purchase behaviour.

Case Study 2: Genshin Impact

"Genshin Impact" applies Gacha mechanics through its 'Wish' system. The game periodically introduces limited-time banners that allow players to 'wish' for specific characters or weapons. This scarcity principle, combined with the randomized outcomes, effectively exploits the Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) and the desire for exclusivity.

Conclusion:

The Gacha mechanics, deeply rooted within the gaming industry, provide a captivating examination of the confluence of gaming, psychology, and consumer tendencies. This intricate interface goes beyond mere game dynamics, delving into potent revenue-generation avenues while simultaneously raising poignant questions about ethical dimensions and the need for considered regulations within game design. Through an in-depth exploration encompassing theoretical frameworks, real-world applications, and pertinent case studies, this paper has furnished a comprehensive panorama of the Gacha system. Notably, its psycho-manipulative capabilities underscore the dynamic's capacity to both enthral and influence player behaviour. As the research suggests, while the Gacha mechanics illuminate potential avenues for substantial profitability, they concurrently evoke urgent deliberations on the ethical frontiers of game design. Thus, a profound understanding and judicious navigation of these mechanics remain pivotal, ensuring a harmonious reconciliation of business imperatives with paramount player welfare.

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