#the mystery in this one is really intricate and engaging

[aethon-recs]

2024 Update to Tomarrymort Longfic Recs — 8 additional fics

I wanted to add 8 lovely new longfics that have been published since the last time I put together this rec list — 6 more for the Intermediate reads list and 2 more for Advanced. Hopefully you’ll find something within these additional 950k words of absolutely brilliant Tomarrymort fic to sink your teeth into and enjoy:

Longfic rec list collection:

Tomarrymort Beginner reads are the fics I would use to introduce someone to the ship and help them get a baseline for the variety, themes, and tropes that best represent our ship;

Intermediate reads are for readers that are already familiar/sold on the ship, and are looking for fics that explore interesting new facets of the Tomarrymort dynamic; 

Advanced reads comprise challenging works of some nature, whether the writing features more complex subject matter and/or pushes the boundaries of what’s possible in a piece of fanfic.

Please enjoy these 8 additions to the list, all of which are either completed or still updating as of 2024!

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Intermediate Longfic Recs

A Light That Never Goes Out by @kippipies (M, 80k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry is the target of a dangerous crime lord called Voldemort and his gang of Death Eaters in a modern mafia AU. Why I rec it: This is a delightful, high-energy caper of a fic in which Harry is a scrappy low-time criminal who accidentally crosses crime boss Voldemort. Naturally, Voldemort sets his sights on getting revenge, but Harry slips through his fingers at the last minute each time. The action scenes in this fic are incredibly dynamic and super fun — I felt like I was watching an action movie at each confrontation between Harry and Voldemort.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry were flung back in time to Tom’s sixth year and almost immediately reveals he is Tom’s horcrux, setting off a chain reaction of obsession and control.  Why I rec it: An intricately crafted character study of Tom and how he gained control over the rest of Slytherin House by the time Harry meets him at the start of sixth year. Harry’s arrival throws Tom’s plans off-kilter, especially once Harry reveals he was Tom’s horcrux in another timeline. This leads Tom to believe the other version of him had somehow loved Harry, and shows him that it’s possible to form such a connection with Harry here if he wants, despite how dark, cruel, and violent he turned out and how little he cares for others. 

By Any Means by @corpium (E, 74k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry has a younger brother Evan who is the Boy-Who-Lived, yet Harry’s overprotective actions towards Evan end up attracting the attention of Voldemort directly onto himself. Why I rec it: This is a really engaging and fast-paced adaptation of canon events if Harry were born 2 years earlier and his younger brother were the one that the prophecy applied to. The relationship between Harry and Evan is really sweet, as they share the burden of growing up at the Dursleys and all the adventures that Harry underwent in canon. There’s also such a fascinating exploration of magic as Harry gradually becomes more powerful as a result of all the trials that he’s put through, eventually becoming powerful enough to attract the attention of Voldemort. 

Pledged by @moontearpensfic (E, 118k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are best friends that enter together into a Hunger Games-crossed-with-Triwizard Tournament in their seventh year.  Why I rec it: This fic depicts co-dependency to such an intense degree between Harry and Tom. Not only are they inseparable best friends throughout their time at Hogwarts, they also perform a cooperative magic ritual that binds their magic to each other permanently, and allows them to share thoughts and feelings with each other across a mental link. There’s also an intriguing mystery at the heart of this story, as Harry and Tom try to figure out the origins of the Triwizard-style tournament that they enter into in their seventh year. 

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 153k, WIP)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry was raised in a pureblood family in a universe where Voldemort wins, and ends up attracting the attention of Voldemort in his seventh year at Hogwarts.  Why I rec it: This is such an intricate, incredibly thoughtful depiction of a society where Voldemort won and Harry was raised as a ward of a pureblood family. By the time it’s Harry’s seventh year, he’s a budding Arithmancy scholar who wants to explore whether it’s possible to choose the optimal timeline via arithmantic calculations, which catches the attention of Voldemort. Voldemort and Harry’s relationship unfolds in such a steamy way, and they truly feel like equals who hold each other in high regard, as Voldemort reveals that they have been inextricably linked by fate, whether or not he ended up trying to kill Harry as a baby in this particular timeline. 

the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3 (M, 15k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (Marauders Era) Premise: If Harry is sent back in time as an infant and adopted into the Potter family, growing up and attending Hogwarts alongside James.  Why I rec it: There is a dearth of Harrymort fics set in Marauders Era so it is such a delight to read about Harry’s friendships and rivalries with Marauders Era characters, like being best friends with Regulus and Quidditch rivals with James. As Harry starts his sixth year, the First Wizarding War heats up in the background and begins spilling into their life at Hogwarts as many of their classmates are recruited to fight on either side of it. All the while that he has to keep secret the strange mental connection that he’s had with the Dark Lord all his life. 

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Advanced Longfic Recs

Hearthstone Abbey (Series) by @ramabear (E, 152k, WIP series)

Setting: Soulmate AU Premise: If second year Harry is plucked away from his canon universe by Voldemort from another universe who is his soulmate. Why I rec it: I wholly melted at all the ways Voldemort takes care of Harry in this fic, better treatment than Harry’s ever gotten in his entire life, and Harry is so lovable and adorable in turn. Voldemort has established himself as a religious figurehead/cult leader in the alternate universe, and it was very interesting to read about his alternate path to power. The soft grooming in this fic was so so delicious, ramping up in intensity as the fic progresses; Voldemort completely dotes on Harry and their dynamic is so sweet and tender, a very nice counterbalance to the sinister and predatory tones that underlie their relationship.

if we were lovers by @reggieblk (E, 277k, complete)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry and Tom meet in a prestigious drama programme and fall for each other against a backdrop of high stakes threatre productions.  Why I rec it: The character work is so rich and detailed in this coming-of-age story in a modern AU setting. It’s clear there was so much thought that went into all the character interactions here, not only between Harry and Tom, but also the ensemble cast of characters who inject so much heart and humor into this story as well. I love the way that @reggieblk cleverly weaves in elements from Shakespeare’s plays and uses the theatre backdrop to depict how the love story between Harry and Tom unfolds — their developing relationship feels, at the same time, both very immersive and cozy, as well as highly fraught with tension. (As a bonus, there is an absolutely amazing original play in the interlude chapter that was written specifically for this fic!)

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[five-and-dimes]

Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

Finally get to share my fic for the Spring Exchange! I got assigned @im-not-corrupted, and it's my first time writing a knight au, but I'm really happy with how t turned out, so I hope you like it too! <3

AO3

If you had asked Sir Robert Gadling just a few years ago, he would have told you that he had no plans of settling in any kingdom. Ever since the loss of his dear Eleanor, he had found himself most content in traveling. A sword for hire making his way through the lands, throwing himself into new adventures before inevitably moving on. He escorted nobles and adventurers, he protected priceless treasures, he fought in tournaments for gold and glory, and then he carried on. Each new place brought their own unique experiences and joys, but none so great as to convince him to stay. 

Then he entered the kingdom of the Endless.

He had heard rumors of the turmoil the kingdom had gone through in recent times. One of their main allies and trade partners had been brought low by their king’s death and near fatal wounding of the only prince, leaving the prince’s consort to struggle to hold the land together. The loss of protection and major imports left the Endless kingdom vulnerable, and they fell into a period of famine and darkness. However, a few years later saw one of the princes staging a coup, exiling the king and queen as well as a few other members of the royal family, taking the throne for himself. 

And King Morpheus brought the realm back to prosperity.

Hob found the land intriguing in a way he hadn’t experienced before. The landscape was lush and vibrant, the kingdom built within the forest as opposed to clearing it away, and even the homes of the lower class were adorned with intricate artwork carved into the door and window frames. When he made his way into a boisterous tavern, he was greeted as though he was coming home, not a newcomer. As the ale flowed, he had tried to learn more about the history of the realm, especially the years when the crown had been taken. What he learned was that, for all the drama that a grab for power like that must have been, to those outside the palace, it had all been very quiet.

“Went to bed one night the same as ever. Next day we woke up, and there was an assembly being called,” An older man explained, leaning heavily on the table, “Standing on the balcony like some angel of death, there was King Morpheus, wearing the crown.” He shook his head, lost in the memory of his astonishment, “The King and Queen have so many kids I never could keep track of ‘em. But I coulda sworn that one was dead,” he shrugged, taking another long swig of his ale, “Guess I was wrong.”

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, Hob was more eager than ever to join an upcoming tournament. As always he enjoyed buddying up with the kingdom’s knights, sharing tales of his travels, learning more about the land he was visiting, placing bets and engaging in friendly banter. He was excited to join the festivities, and to get a closer look at the mysterious king.

As he entered the arena, looking up to the stands, he understood why his drinking companion had called the king an angel. King Morpheus was a spot of darkness amongst the colors of the crowd. The royals and advisors sitting beside him wore rich, deep colored fabrics that shone in the sunlight, but the king himself was garbed all in black. His robes flowed around him, draping over his form and concealing his figure. His collar was buttoned up his neck all the way to his chin, and gloves covered his hands where they lay primly in his lap. Long black hair was braided elegantly and made his face look even paler, as though he had never seen the sun before. The gold circlet with ruby accents on his head was the only color Hob could make out on his figure.

He was beautiful. 

Hob was never one to deny his ego, and he always aimed to impress when he competed, but on this day he forgot about the crowd. There was only one person he hoped to impress with each swing of his weapon or shot of his bow. The days of the tournament passed, and he couldn’t help but glance up up up to the King after each success, hoping desperately to be noticed. And his pride clearly paid off, because when the tournament ended, as Hob collected his winnings and made his way towards the feast, he was approached by an elegant figure. Her waistcoat was perfectly tailored and a deep purple which made her dark skin seem to glow. But her poise and demeanor gave away her station far more than the richness of her clothing. Delicate spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose, and her posture was proud and sure, looking down on Hob without seeming to look down on him.

“You performed very admirably, Sir…” she stated, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Robert Gadling,” he bowed in greeting, grinning.

“You are new to these parts, yes?”

“Aye, I am a traveler.”

“Just passing through, then?”

“Unless I am given a reason to stay.”

She gave him a reason.

The King had in fact noticed him, had been pleased by his performance, and was looking to grow the order of knights protecting the castle grounds. Though a few years had passed, he was still new enough to the throne to be vulnerable to attempts to usurp him. And he wanted Hob to join. Hob had no intention of turning down an opportunity to be closer to the dark shadow of a king.

It did not occur to him until much later that he hadn’t even needed to think about it before deciding to settle here, in the Endless Kingdom. He moved onto the castle grounds, and he kneeled before King Morpheus and swore an oath, and the king looked down at him with glittering eyes. Hob felt like a madman for all the things he wanted, but he felt a little less mad when, before the season even had a chance to change, he was selected as the King’s personal guard.

“If I may ask,” Hob could not help but inquire, standing watch as the King worked in his study, “Why me? There must be knights whom you are more familiar with.” He was one of the newest in the order, and yet it was he who stood at the king’s side.

The King barely glanced at him, continuing his elegant penmanship, “I am interested.” 

“In me?” Hob felt his traitorous heart flutter.

Here, King Morpheus did look at him, something sly and mischievous in his eyes, “In your experience.” Slowly and deliberately, he put his quill down, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap, “Tell me, sir Gadling,” Hob shivered every time he heard his name on those lips, “of your travels. Tell me of your life.”

And, well. Hob would never deny a command from his king. 

Although he would not deny… editing, occasionally. Never lying, of course, he wouldn’t dare. But he saw no harm in skipping the less flattering parts- the years lost to drinking his grief away, the times he tripped over his own feet learning to charge in heavy armor- and only slightly embellishing his victories. Morpheus always listened with rapt attention, as though Hob’s tales were the most interesting things he had ever heard. Perhaps, Hob considered, they were.

“It seems you have always been a capable warrior, Sir Gadling,” Morpheus smiled as he delicately ate his breakfast, Hob leaning against the wall beside him as he finished the most recent recounting of his exploits.

“Had to learn fast,” he grinned, “Some of us have to get roughed up if we want to keep you royals so soft and pretty.”

At first, he thinks he has said something wrong, because Morpheus’ head snaps up to look at him, eyes sharp and calculating. But a moment later, his body softens, like an exhale, and there is a pleased smile on his face, and Hob knows that he has said something right.

“I do not remember that part of your oath,” he says teasingly, “a vow to keep me soft and pretty.”

“It was unspoken,” Hob replies immediately, “Took one look at you and knew a delicate thing like you needed a skilled sword and shield at your side.”

“And it seems I chose well,” he sits up a little straighter, almost preening, “I trust a knight of your strength and… stature,” Hob felt his cheeks warm as Morpheus blatantly looked him up and down, “will have no trouble protecting my integrity.”

“With my life, my lord,” he gives a half bow, and when their eyes meet he is certain that something is there.

It became a regular part of their time together, after that. Time passes with Hob telling his stories, and Morpheus fluttering his eyelashes at what a rough and adventurous life he’s led, and Hob gently teasing about the soft and cushioned life he’s led. The contrast between them was exhilarating, and each time the king leaned into it was a bolt of excitement to Hob’s bloodstream. If Hob had his way, King Morpheus would never have to lift a finger. As he accompanied him through the castle, from his chambers to the throne room to the dining hall and back again, he opened every door for him with a deep bow. He would lift the king’s fork to his lips if allowed. 

Morpheus does not seem to mind. For all that he is known as a stoic and cold king to those outside of the palace, each day Hob sees his little smiles, and the laughter in his eyes as Hob bends over backwards for him. 

On this day, Hob thinks he might be the first knight tasked to pick blackberries for his king. Morpheus sits on a stone bench in the shade of the garden as Hob diligently fills a bowl with the ripe fruit, occasionally glancing back to see Morpheus’ warm, amused smile.

“It would be a shame to stain such finary,” he had claimed, eyes crinkling slightly in restrained mirth, turning to show off the glimmer within the fabric of his clothes.

“Oh of course,” Hob teased in return, “We wouldn’t want our precious king to get his hands dirty.” He bowed, taking the king’s gloved hand to kiss his knuckles. His skin was covered by such fine leather, he could only imagine how butter soft the skin beneath it must be. 

King Morpheus smirked down at him, “You earn your keep well, my knight.”

“Anything to be kept by you,” he winked.

The only response is a silent huff of laughter, but Hob cherishes it all the same. As he stands, he holds a berry out between his fingers, “Perhaps you should test them. Make sure they are up to your standards.”

His eyelashes flutter, a coy smile on his lips as he leans forward, and Hob may have started it but he was unprepared for the feeling of his king’s mouth wrapping around his fingers, plucking the fruit from his hand before pulling back with a soft swipe of his tongue. Hob feels himself shudder as Morpheus hums in pleasure.

“Yes,” he purrs, “delightful.”

“Is that so?” Hob feels his heart beating wildly in his chest, but he feels confident and daring as he leans in closer, “Perhaps I should get a taste myself.” He thinks that no fruit on earth would compare to being able to lick the taste from Morpheus’ lips.

But he will never know if he is right. Before he has a chance, he lays his hand on Morpheus’ waist, only to have his wrist gripped tightly and torn away.

“Do not-” The hissed words are cut off so abruptly that Hob can hear the click of Morpheus’ teeth as his mouth snaps shut. His eyes are steely, stepping back to put himself out of Hob’s reach. It is so far and away from any interaction they have had before that Hob feels as though he has whiplash.

There is a moment's pause where Morpheus seems to be waiting for him to speak, and it is only then that Hob remembers their respective ranks, “I apologize, my liege,” he bows deeply, the formality feeling wrong. This is not who they are to each other. Or so he thought.

He glances up just in time to catch the way Morpheus’ throat bobs as he swallows thickly, “I have been away from my work long enough. Deliver what you have harvested to the kitchens and then rejoin me in my study.” He leaves no room for a response, turning on his heels and stalking away, heedless of the fact that they are not meant to be separated this way. Hob’s job is to watch over him. But, after watching his king’s back disappear back into the castle, he does as he is told.

His thoughts are a storm as he passes the fruit off to the kitchen staff, dragging his feet to delay his return to Morpheus’ side. King Morpheus has always been vocal about fighting tradition- about making a better realm, even if it meant going against the “old ways”- and Hob had, foolishly perhaps, assumed that meant that Morpheus would not be against marrying outside his station.

Apparently he was wrong.

Arriving outside the study door, Hob feels his heart burn. With rejection, yes, and grief, certainly, but also with anger. Anger at the king’s hypocrisy, his arrogance and conceit, to think so lowly of Hob as to toy with his feelings and then snub his touch. As though Hob’s hands would somehow taint his royal figure. 

Well, Hob refused to be ashamed. He was proud of his rank and status, he was proud of his life, and no man or king would make him feel lesser. So when he walked into the room, he held his head high, and kept his eyes cold.

Morpheus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but did not say anything.

The weeks following are tense. At first, Morpheus seemed to try to restart their flirtatious banter, but Hob refused to engage. He was not a toy for the king to play with as he pleased and then shove away when he got too bold. In another kingdom, Hob thinks he might have been executed for the glare he sent the lord’s way. But Morpheus only sighed and looked away, and eventually stopped trying. Their days were now filled with tense silences as they walked together.

Hob is seriously considering leaving Morpheus’ order to continue his travels on the day the assassination attempt happens. He is overseeing a trial between two nobles, something about one of them infringing on the other's land, Hob hadn’t really been paying attention. In hindsight, the two seem more amicable with each other than one would expect for a dispute to reach the point of coming before the king, but at the time Hob had just been grateful that it was a quiet day. 

“My King, I have some evidence that I believe may sway you in my favor,” one of them announced. 

Morpheus, with varying success, did try to keep from being too far above his people. As such, it was not unusual for him to stand and approach the noble when he gestured him forward, presumably to show or explain something to win his case. Hob, as usual, is only a step behind him. It is because of that that he catches the glint of metal in the noble’s hand within his robe.

With a wordless cry, Hob lunges forward, shoving Morpheus roughly to the ground to step in front of him. There is a loud clang as the noble’s dagger connects with Hob’s gauntlet. His eyes are wide at Hob’s speed, and he has no time to react before Hob’s fist makes contact with his nose, blood spraying as he collapses. Around them, the rest of the knights in the room rush into action, restraining both nobles and sweeping the room for any hidden danger. 

With the threat so swiftly taken care of, Hob is free to look down at where the king was sprawled, dark fabric pooling around him as he pushes himself up, dark hair concealing half his face. They look at each other, the adrenalin of the moment still rushing through both of them. 

“Are you alright, my liege?” Hob asks softly, holding a hand out.

Morpheus nods slowly, taking his hand and allowing Hob to pull him to his feet, “I am. Thanks to you.” 

As they stand, hands still clasped for a moment longer than necessary, Hob realizes that he has missed Morpheus. Perhaps he cannot have everything that he wants so desperately. But if this is all he can have, well. At least he can have this. 

“Of course,” he smirks, “I did swear to keep you soft and pretty, remember?” 

He means it as an olive branch, a remembered joke between them to show that they can still be more than simply knight and king, even if they cannot be more. He does not mean to make Morpheus’ eyes fill with tears.

“Yes,” his voice cracks, “Of course.” 

Hob is not given a chance to respond- not that he knows how to respond at all- before the king is turning away, calling for his advisor, Lady Lucienne, the one who had first approached Hob about his position within the court. The two convene quietly for a moment before Morpheus orders the knights present, including Hob, to take the two traitors away to be questioned and search the grounds for any other suspects. 

It feels wrong to leave the king’s side. Hob feels a desperate need to watch over him, to keep him safe and protected, to wipe away the tears that look so perilously close to falling. But he has been given his orders, and the king and lady are already moving to sequester themselves somewhere private to discuss what to do with the situation. So, with one last look back, he goes to fulfill his duty.

Hours later, when the palace is confidently secure and the traitors are under lock and key, Hob feels no less anxious to be at his king’s side. He was told to return to his own quarters, to rest for the night, and he did try at first, setting his armor aside and laying in bed to try to calm the burning in his heart. But there is no rest to be found here, and soon he finds himself walking purposefully through the halls in his casual clothing, a decision he only regrets when he finds himself faced unexpectedly with the king’s advisor.

Lady Lucienne is exiting the room just as he approaches the king’s chambers. Still half in the doorway, she raises an eyebrow at the clearly off-duty knight before her, and Hob freezes, feeling like a child caught stealing sweets.

“Sir Gadling,” she greets cooly, “I did not expect to see you so late. I thought you were resting,” she raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“Yes, m’lady,” he bows his head, but tries to continue awkwardly, “I simply could not rest, and wished to check to ensure the king was well after the attack today.”

“He is well,” she answers shortly, “so you may-“

“Lucienne,” a deep voice calls out from within the room, “he may enter.”

Frowning, Lucienne gives Hob a quick narrow-eyed look before re-entering the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the knight alone in the hallway. He waits awkwardly as a hushed conversation happens behind the door. Finally, Lucienne emerges once more, still eying him warily, but opening the door wider to allow him entry into the king’s chamber. As he enters, he is surprised when she exits, closing the door again to leave him alone in the room with Morpheus.

The room is grand, as expected for a king, and Morpheus sits primly on the edge of the large, ornate bed in the center. He is no longer wearing the extravagant, heavy garb that he dons in public. His current night robe, while as dark and elegant as all of his attire, is also thinner and more lightweight. It is also… revealing. The silky fabric contrasts sharply with his pale, nearly white skin, and for the first time, Hob is granted the sight of his king’s forearms, his neck, the jut of his collar bones, his calves. And with it, he is granted the sight of countless scars. 

Dark, rough scar tissue circles both his wrists like bracelets, a matching ring around his neck. There are some marks that Hob recognizes as blade wounds, and others that he thinks might be burns. They criss-cross over each other and dip below his robe, suggesting that what he is seeing is only a fraction of what exists. All of the marks look old. It does not make them look any less painful. 

Hob feels his mouth open, the breath rushing out of him as though he has been struck. He can tell, he knows, that the scars are old enough to have been made long before Hob ever met Morpheus. Still, he feels a strange sense of failure. As though it is his fault for not meeting Morpheus in time to protect him.

When he finally raises his gaze, he finds Morpheus looking at him, patiently waiting for Hob to finish his inspection. Hob opens his mouth, but cannot find any words that might soften whatever is happening right now.

Finally, Morpheus speaks, “Once, I was a prince. And now, I am a king.” His voice holds the gravity of an execution, and the sorrow of bowing his own neck beneath the blade, “But there was a time, in between, when I was neither.”

Hob takes another shaking step into the room. There is something dreamlike in the situation, an anticipation, a feeling of falling. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Morpheus turns his eyes forward to stare at one of the large landscape paintings he’d commissioned from a local artist, “I was sixteen when I was taken,” he states plainly, as though his words don’t gut Hob to the core, “It was… easy. For them to steal me away. Far too easy, even for an unloved spare like myself. As if it had been allowed.” He pauses, but keeps his face carefully smooth and neutral, “I still do not know for certain. Whether I was stolen or given away.” His next words are spoken more to himself than to Hob, “Perhaps it does not matter.”

Everything in Hob wants to move closer, to hold his king and shield him with his body, as though the past was an arrow aimed for his heart that Hob could stand in the way of. And yet, he feels frozen. Feet rooted to the ground by a pain so great even his strong and stoic king cannot keep it from his voice.

“When my blindfold was removed, I found myself brought before King Burgess.”

And now, Hob gasps, a too-loud inhale in the heavy tension of the room. Morpheus looks at him, his body stiff and his face still carefully empty.

Hob feels like he can’t breathe, “How…” his voice cracks desperately, “How long were you there?” He might be making a mistake by asking, by speaking at all during this tale, but he has to know. He has to.

“I was kept as a secret treasure for ten years,” Morpheus reveals bluntly. “I escaped my imprisonment roughly six years ago.”

The timeline stretches before Hob’s eyes, and he wants to weep.

“I was there,” Hob exhales in horror. Morpheus’ blinks, eyes blank and not understanding. “I… Ten years ago, I…” his throat feels like it is closing, but he forces the words out, “Burgess’ kingdom was one of the first I traveled to after I lost Eleanor. I was raised in the land neighboring it. I was there for nearly a year, drinking and fighting and participating in tournaments to distract myself from grief. I was offered a place in his court but I. Declined.” He takes half a step back, and then a full step forward when he sees the way the motion makes his king’s face fall. “I was right there,” he whispers.

“I doubt you could have done much,” Morpheus replied, turning his face to look at the wall again, “I was not flaunted before his people, or even the rest of his court. Only a select few knew of my presence beneath his castle. He…” his voice trailed off, and his eyes glimmered as tears began to well. But he stubbornly blinked them back, “It does not matter,” he says again, even softer. 

Hob wants to scream that it does matter, of course it matters. But his king looks so wounded right now, and it has nothing to do with the scars. So for now he waits, and lets Morpheus tell him no more than what he is ready to share.

“Eventually,” he continues, his voice steady once more, “the prince’s consort grew pitying. I am sure when he released me he expected me to simply run. But I had more than earned my right to vengeance.” His hands clenched into fists in his lap, “Burgess was almost too easy. He had grown old and careless. He was not so powerful as he thought himself when I was in chains. I spared his son the killing blow only out of gratitude to his consort.”

The stories of the fall of the Burgess Kingdom make much more sense now, with this information, and even the decline of the Endless kingdom who had for so long been allies with them. 

“It took me some time to return to my home kingdom. I was weak, and needed to heal and regain my strength. I also gathered allies. Lady Lucienne, Sir Matthew, among others. My family was not expecting my return, and so it was easy to claim the throne for myself. My parents I exiled, along with their supporters. My siblings I allowed the freedom to do as they wished. And what they wished was to leave.” 

A few of the king’s siblings had visited in Hob’s time at his side, but never for long. Hob ached at the pain he saw now. The pain of being abandoned so quickly after his return.

“And a few years later…” Morpheus’ gaze was heavy as he looked at Hob once more, “a traveling knight competed in a tournament, and caught my eye.”

Hob still remembers that day so vividly, the dark shadow of the king, the way he was too far for Hob to see his eyes and yet he fantasized about them looking at him. His heart swells in his chest to know that they were. And now he is here, stepping towards his king, his friend, the man he has stood beside for nearly two years now, and he cannot help but ask, “Why did you not tell me this before?”

When Morpheus sighs, it is heavy, and Hob thinks that a lesser man would have crumpled under the weight of the despair in that single breath.

“The parts of me that appeal to you…” he explains slowly, “being… soft. And pretty, and delicate, and pure…” he keeps his head high and shoulders back and it does not make him look any less ashamed, “they are all a fantasy. The reality is that I have long been. Damaged. And sullied.” Almost unconsciously, he brought one hand up to clutch at his robe, holding it closed just a little tighter, “Perhaps it was cruel of me to deceive you in such a way, but our games… brought me comfort. I could pretend, even if just for the briefest times, that it was true. That I was someone you could want.”

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighed, “I thought. If I could have nothing else. I could at least have that.”

His voice is so even, despite how soft it has grown, barely audible in the expansive room. He speaks as though reciting history- something that has already passed and cannot be altered. A tragedy that cannot be changed.

When Hob moves towards him, it is barely conscious. It is like floating down a river, like gravity, a force of nature that perhaps he could fight against if he wanted to. But he does not want to. And so he moves to his king and he kneels, and he did not know it was possible, but it feels even more right now than it has every time he has kneeled before. Morpheus looks at him, the slightest furrow in his brow, confused, surprised, strangely lost. Hob takes his hand, as he has countless times before, and for the first time feels the rough calluses on his fingers. He kisses his knuckles, and his lips brush his bare skin for the very first time. Morpheus gasps, silent, and Hob would have missed it had his eyes not been fixed on his king’s face. 

And then he continues. He brings his lips to the ring of scar tissue around his bony wrist, kissing first the outside, then the inside, leaning forward to continue kissing up his arm. There is a part of him that is appalled at his daring- this is his king, he has no right to take such liberties. But there is a much larger part that is desperate to prove him wrong. He has sworn an oath to protect this man. In this moment, he wants to protect him from his own expectations. 

And so he pushes himself up, still holding Morpheus’ hand as his lips trail over the landscape of texture across his skin. He kisses over the fabric of his robe, not pushing it aside, not asking Morpheus to reveal any more than he already has. He stands until he is, like blasphemy, looming over his king, leaning down to kiss along the rope of scarring along his neck. He feels, more than hears, the way Morpheus gasps as his lips caress his skin.

“No game could compare to the reality of you,” Hob breathes against his skin, letting his tongue lightly trace the texture of him, “You do not need to pretend that you are wanted.” Leaning back, he finds his king staring at him with wide, watery eyes, and Hob allows himself a moment to sweep his gaze down his figure in appreciation, “Look at you,” he whispers, “Look at how much you’ve survived.”

He brings his free hand up to cup Morpheus’ cheek, and his king still looks disbelieving, and so what can he do but lean in and kiss him. When their lips meet, it feels like the inevitability of dawn after a long dark night, like everything was meant to lead them here. They move their lips together slowly, softly, until the taste of salt blooms between them. Hob pulls back, and Morpheus drifts after him, tears streaming down his face. And for all that he has been through, he looks at Hob as though this, this love and wanting, is what will finally undo him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hob kisses the tears from his cheeks, even as Morpheus shakes his head.

“I am not.” 

Hob tuts softly, “You are.” 

Feeling emboldened by his love, by a love he now understands is returned, he pushes gently at Morpheus’ shoulder, guiding him down to lay on the soft, rich fabric of his bed. Morpheus’ eyes are wide when he moves to straddle him, but he does not push him away. His hands hover over his hips hesitantly, and that is the moment Hob stops worrying about this being his king. Right now, this is just Morpheus, who has been torn apart, and pieced himself back together, and pushed Hob away because he was so certain he would not be wanted as he is. And Hob wants him, and so there is nothing more important than leaning down to kiss every inch of exposed skin.

“You are so strong,” Hob whispers, pressing his lips to the rough skin of his neck again, “but you have protected yourself for long enough. Let me, now.”

“Hob,” Morpheus’ voice is breathless, his hands finally come to clutch at his tunic, “I…”

“I have sworn an oath to you, my king,” he kisses the burns along his collar bones, “And I would swear another to you, my friend,” he kisses the raised scars on his chest, “and yet another for you, my love.” 

Slowly he kisses down to his stomach, where he feels Morpheus tense and shudder even through his robe. Morpheus is breathing heavily beneath him, gasps and sobs and moans as Hob touches him all over. He tugs at Hob’s tunic and Hob obliges, tugging it over his head and reveling in the way Morpheus stares up at him, his tears slowing and his throat bobbing as he swallows at the sight of Hob’s muscled chest, his body hair broken up by ropes of scars from his years of knighthood.

Hob takes Morpheus’ hand, calluses caressing calluses, and leans down to settle his weight on top of him. He pressed their chests together, pale and scarred against tan and scarred. “See?” Hob whispered against his ear, “We match.”

Morpheus’ breath hitches, and his hand clings tighter to Hob’s. He does not let go for the rest of the night, even after they have finished their gentle rutting and have both stained the insides of their clothes. He allows Hob to use his own shirt to clean them both, and to wipe his tears away, and to curl around him beneath the covers, but he does not let go. 

In the dark, Hob kisses each of his fingers, “Would that I could protect you from the things that have already happened,” he whispers, “But I swear to you, my beautiful Morpheus, that no new scars shall adorn your skin while I am here to prevent it.” 

He feels fresh tears fall against his skin, and he knows it will take time for Morpheus to truly believe his words. Hob will slowly reveal the parts of his past that he had edited out, and Morpheus will do the same, and eventually they will lay together with no fabric between them, and Morpheus will still cry at the kindness and the love and the want in Hob’s eyes, and that will be okay. For now, they sleep in the safety of each other's arms.

And in the morning, Hob will help Morpheus dress, kissing up his body as he buttons his robe until he is once more fully covered, kissing his lips as he fastens the last button.

[waywardxwords]

Witches

Summary: While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18; THIS CONTENT IS RATED M FOR MATURE Swearing, Supernatural-y things (witches), sex pollen trope, smut (p in v, f masturbation), fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing Dean smut and also my first time using the whole sex pollen trope. But this was fun, and I enjoyed writing it. If you’re feeling up to it, please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

There wasn’t anything you hated more in this supernatural world than witches. They were ruthless, conniving and downright batshit crazy. But alas, if you and your hunting buddies didn’t hunt them, then no one would. They would continue wreaking havoc on anyone they wanted, and you couldn’t have that.

So now you found yourself in the living room of a woman you had suspected spent her free time doing witchy things. You had no idea what you were looking for–bones, spell books, weird herbs or plants; the options were literally endless. 

All you knew: people in this town all connected to this woman were ending up in rather interesting predicaments and you were determined to find out why. 

“Don’t touch anything that looks suspicious,” Dean’s voice came through the other line as you used one hand to press your phone to your ear. “I really wish you would’ve waited for me. We should’ve gone in together.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no time for that,” you muttered as you searched. There were a bunch of old books, but none of them screamed hocus pocus to you. You fumbled with a tiny wooden trinket box that had intricate lines and details on the outside. As you lifted the lid, you saw it contained some kind of yellowish-green powder. “This is interesting…” your voice trailed off as you brought the box closer to investigate. With your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, you lifted the box. 

“I’m serious, do not touch anything. You listenin’ to me?” You rolled your eyes at his voice. 

“I’m not touching anything, Dean. Cool it,” you mumbled as you examined the substance. Within a moment, your nose suddenly felt tingly and itchy. It started before you could stop it—sneeze. A cloud of the yellowish-green powder encircled your face and created a haze. Your eyes immediately felt watery. The phone fell from your ear as you hurried to place the box back down on the table and brushed your face with your hands. As you pulled your hands away, you saw dusty yellowish-green hues. You missed Dean calling your name through the phone, but he didn’t miss the words that fell from your lips in the background. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” You breathed as you plucked the phone from the hardwood floor and brought it back to your ear.

“What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was elevated and you heard the rev of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“Uh, Dean?” You watched the powder on the floor around you. “I accidentally touched it.”

“God dammit,” he groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean had gotten to the witch’s house in minutes, which made you realize you probably should have waited for him and gone in together. But that didn’t matter anymore. You were waiting for symptoms to start–every little thing you felt made you wonder if it was caused by the mysterious substance. 

“Talk to me, Sammy,” Dean answered the phone roughly as he sped to get back to the motel. He said it was the safest place to be in case something happened. Sam was on his own hunt, about four hours away. “It’s like a yellow color,” he described, as Sam probably asked what it looked like. 

“Like pollen,” you murmured from the passenger seat. Suddenly, you felt warmth in the pit of your stomach. It was an odd feeling, almost like you had just consumed a warm cup of tea or hot soup. 

“Yeah, like pollen,” Dean repeated into the phone. The warmth wasn’t going away, it was only getting hotter. So hot, you felt the need to pull off your leather jacket even though the cool autumn air nipped at your skin. Dean did a double take from the road to you, and back again. “What are you doing?” He pulled the phone slightly away from his mouth. 

“I’m getting really hot, Dean,” you mumbled, worry crept through your words. You didn’t get worried often—or show it, at least—but these damn witches…all bets were off. 

“She says she’s getting hot,” Dean relayed over the phone before pulling it away and hitting the ‘Speaker’ button. 

“Uh, okay…so she sneezed into a box of pollen and now she feels hot?” Sam was typing as he spoke. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean confirmed as he turned into the parking lot of the motel. By now, your skin was on fire. The heat had spread from just the pit of your stomach to your chest, your arms, your face, and…other places you preferred not to mention. 

“I’m on fire,” you mumbled as tears stung your eyes. As soon as the car was in park, you had the front passenger door open and moved to be outside of the Impala. The cold air felt glorious on your skin, but the fear kept your feet moving. 

“She’s burning up, Sammy. You got anything? Anything at all?” The worry was present in Dean’s voice, as well, though you barely noticed over the waves of heat coursing through you. 

Once the two of you got into your shared motel room, you beelined for the bathroom. Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the porcelain sink and you closed your eyes. The coolness from the surface of the sink calmed your shakes, even if just for a moment. 

“A what pollen?” Dean asked into the phone, as if he couldn’t have heard Sam correctly. After a pause, he continued. “You gotta be kidding me.” He breathed, but didn’t hesitate to get his mind back in the game. “Okay, walk me through it.” 

Dean’s tone should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the way your heart nearly vibrated in your chest. There was a heat blazing so hot in your center, that you realized at that moment it had created a slickness in your underwear. Your nipples were so hard, they ached against the soft cotton fabric of your bra. 

You glanced up to look in the mirror for the first time. That’s when you noticed the heat had risen and created patches of redness up your chest and into your cheeks. Your breathing was labored, almost, and you realized it was as if you had just had…

“Okay, hear me out,” Dean grumbled as he tossed his cell phone onto his bed and ran his hand over his mouth as he tried to find the right words. “You’re not gonna like this…but it’s called sex pollen.” He cleared his voice before he said it. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Your chest rose and fell with each breath, you eyed him carefully but that made you feel even hotter. The warmth was overwhelming, so you fanned yourself with one of your hands. 

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up as if he were just the messenger. “It’s a spell. It makes you wanna get it on, Marvin Gaye style.” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. You rolled your eyes and threw the hand towel at his face, missing slightly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Get it together,” you huffed. “So how do I break it?”

Dean gnawed at the inside of his lip, which was something you hadn’t seen him do before—or noticed, anyway. God, you couldn’t look away from his mouth. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you thought you might crumble. Your fingers reached out quickly to grip the doorway of the bathroom. 

“From what Sam has read,” he paused as he nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. “You gotta…do it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do it?” You repeated. “Can you be a grown-up for five seconds, please?” 

“Sex, darlin’,” he closed his eyes and said it hurriedly. “You gotta have sex.” 

All of the color drained from your face. Even though you knew that was what he meant, it was still a lot to take in (no pun intended). You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to force your brain to work, but all of the blood seemed to be rerouted to other parts of your body. 

The feelings that ran over you made you realize you were feeling extreme sensations of being turned on. This went far above any other time you had felt this way—thinking about it almost made it worse. 

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. When you peeled back your eyelids, you were met with his green gaze. You had never seen his eyes so green before—and in the hue of the motel bedside lamps, you spotted speckles of gold and brown. You had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before. 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered over the word. “So what now? Just try to let it pass?”

Dean cleared his throat and broke away from your stare, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip again. God dammit, if he doesn’t put that tongue away… You tried not to squirm standing there in your jeans and a tank top. “Uh, actually, Sammy said if you don’t…take care of it,” he waved his hand in front of himself in a circular motion. “It uh, it can be fatal.” 

“I’m sorry, come again?” You blinked once, then twice. 

“Yeah, uh, you gotta take care of it,” he brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck again. You noticed the way his bicep flexed and tugged at the flannel that covered his arm. The heat in your parties made you think they may actually catch on fire. 

“Fuck, Dean,” you groaned and turned to move. The only thing that seemed to bring you any kind of relief was pacing. The friction your jeans caused between your legs was incredible. “What if…” you hesitated as you processed. “What if I try to ‘take care of it’ myself?” You used air quotes and looked back at him. 

He seemed to process for a second. “I mean, maybe? I don’t have any idea…” the tension in the room was so awkward. But the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to look at Dean and try to not jump his bones. 

“Okay, go to the bathroom…do not come out, you hear me?” You instructed firmly. Dean grabbed his phone and nodded. 

“I’ll text Sammy and see if he’s found anything else,” he mumbled and hurried to the bathroom before he closed the door. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush—and Dean Winchester never blushed. 

By the time you heard the door click closed, your fingers worked the button on your jeans. As soon as the clasp was freed, you shimmied them down your thighs and kicked them off to the side. You decided to leave your underwear and tank top on, fully aware of the man just on the other side of the bathroom door. 

As you dropped down on the bed and sat up against the headboard, your knees parted automatically. The heat that escaped between your legs was so intense that the cool air made you gasp. You closed your eyes as your hand snuck under the band of your black panties. The only thing you could see was Dean…his chiseled jaw, the way it tightened when he was mad, or frustrated or deep in thought; the rough stubble scattered across his lower face and chin; the way his eyes bore into you every time he looked your way. These weren’t new feelings, just feelings you had been able to avoid for so long. Now that the sex pollen had taken over, all bets were off. 

Your index finger circled your clit. You tried to be quiet, truly. This situation was awkward enough and you knew the doors in this motel were practically cardboard and didn’t contain the sound. But the moans still fell from your lips hastily. You couldn’t stop them once you started. You dipped your fingers down and couldn’t believe the wetness there; the feeling was overwhelming. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut once more, envisioning the god of a man on the other side of the door. And then it happened. “Ugh, Dean,” his name rolled off of your lips dripped in absolute bliss. 

“Uh, you okay in there, sweetheart?” Fuck. He had heard it. The blush rising even stronger in your cheeks literally burned your face. Tears you hadn’t realized had pooled in your eyes blurred your vision. 

“God dammit,” you groaned. No matter how hard you tried, you knew this wasn’t working. “I’m uh, I’m fine, Dean.” You hoped it would be enough to appease him. 

“Listen, uh, Sammy just wrote me back. He said it’s not gonna work…you, uh, taking care of it yourself,” he cleared his throat twice. Oh awesome, you thought to yourself. Both of the Winchesters know I’m trying to masturbate this spell away… You knew what that meant. Before your brain could process, you heard him again. “You decent? I’m comin’ in.” 

You practically squealed and clawed at the comforter to cover yourself. The door to the bathroom creaked open and Dean hesitantly peered around it. By the time he made it into the room, you were mostly covered but your right leg had slipped out under the comforter and Dean caught a glimpse of skin from your foot all the way up to where your underwear sat above your hip. 

Your eyes connected and you noticed his jaw tightened. But this time, it wasn’t because he was mad or frustrated…maybe in deep thought, but something felt different; something felt darker than that. 

“It’s not working,” you murmured, your chest still heaved with each heavy breath you took. Your fingers gripped the comforter so tightly at your chest, your knuckles were white. 

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice somehow sounded deeper than it had moments before. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, or maybe it was the sex pollen. But either way, it made your body tremble. 

You followed Dean’s gaze to your leg—he absolutely saw the tremble. 

“Listen, I don’t want to make this weird,” he rubbed a hand down his face again. The way his mouth dropped open made the heat rise even more. “But you can’t fix this by yourself.” You knew he was hesitating; hesitating to take it further. You wondered if it was because he didn’t want it, maybe he didn’t want you. 

“Help me fix this,” the tears blurred at your eyes again. “Dean, I’m begging you. Everything is on fire. My body literally feels like I’m going to combust.” You hated that your voice cracked, but you were truly starting to freak out. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean nervously chuckled as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t want you to do something just because you have to…” his voice trailed off as his eyes studied you. Realization set in that Dean wasn’t able to hide his attraction or interest in that moment. His jeans had tightened quite a bit in his groin, revealing a bulge that made you practically pant.

“I need you, Dean. But I also want you,” you practically drooled at this point. “I want you so, so bad.”

Dean’s hands moved to unbutton the buttons to his flannel quickly—you scrambled out from underneath the comforter to where he stood at the end of the bed on your knees to help him with the rest. You gave up after the second button and pulled the two sides harshly apart, sending buttons flying to bounce onto the multicolored carpet below. 

“Christ,” he breathed as he moved to undo the metal button on his jeans. Instantly, his hands cupped your cheeks. He paused for only a moment. After one more look into your eyes to make sure this was okay, you met in the middle as your lips crashed against one another. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” the words rolled off of your lips like it was nothing—but it was so much more than nothing. It was something you hadn’t meant to say, but the sex pollen haze made your filter dissipate. Your lips pulled apart with a pop and your eyes found his. 

“God, me too,” he almost growled as he toppled you back onto the bed once more. Dean was on top of you, your legs parted automatically. He held himself up with one arm and kissed you in a way you had never been kissed before. 

“Dean, I need you to touch me. Please,” the need in your voice was mixed with begging at this point. “Everything is on fire.”

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” his words drawled together, intoxicated with lust. The hand that wasn’t supporting his body weight trailed down your side. He pulled back and sat on his knees, pulling you with him so you were sitting up. His fingers grasped the hem of your tank top and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion. He reached behind you and masterfully unclasped your black bra. As soon as it fell away, the cool air from the room bit at your already hardened nipples, causing you to hiss out loud. 

Just as quickly as he pulled you up, he pushed you gently back to the bed on your back as he settled between your legs once more. 

“You’re so god damn beautiful,” he murmured as his lips connected with your neck. He planted hasty wet kisses from just below your ear lobe, down your collarbone to the top of your breasts. 

“Dean,” your hips writhed against him. You needed more. 

“I know, baby,” he breathed as his hand finally began to trace down your side, his fingertips left goosebumps on their way until they reached your hip bone. He pulled the material of your underwear until they slid off of your hips. He pulled until they were down near your feet where you could kick them off. 

His fingertips trailed to your center and circled your clit just as you had done moments before. His index finger slipped easily inside of you before he decided to add his middle finger to the mix. 

“Oh,” you breathed out, your head tilted backward so your neck was exposed. Dean took the opportunity happily, his lips sucked and kissed every inch of skin there as he pumped his fingers into you. “Dean, please.” You were doing a lot of begging, but you literally couldn’t help it. You felt like you would implode if he didn’t take you right then and there. 

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he murmured against the flesh of your neck.

“I don’t really have time for patience,” you groaned. Dean pulled back for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten this was initiated from the sex pollen to begin with. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed your naked body, his jaw tightened. He quickly pulled off his flannel, within seconds his fingers pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. Next up was his jeans, and then his boxers. 

Your body squirmed at the sight–he was stunning. Your eyes trailed down his biceps to his forearms–down his chest, to the delicious V and then…

Your breath got caught in the back of your throat, but before you could gasp for air, his lips were back on you again and you felt his hardness against your thigh. “I don’t have a condom…” he grumbled as his head dropped into the crook of your neck.

“Birth control, Dean,” you mumbled against his hair. His lips found yours again, moving against them as if his life depended on it–and, well, yours sort of did. He pulled back for a moment and found your eyes, as if he was asking if you were sure about this. You knew there was no going back at this point, so you raised your head to capture his lips in yours again. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth gently, which elicited a moan from him.

And then in a second, you felt him enter you. It could have been the sex pollen, but you didn’t think so. The feeling was the most incredible sensation you had ever felt. The way your body fit against his was something you could have never imagined—even in the nights you had drifted off to sleep thinking about what this might feel like. 

He moved slowly at first; too slowly to appease the effects of the damn sex pollen. Your hips rose to meet his and you wrapped your legs around his waist, linking your feet behind him at your ankles. He obliged, and angled his body in a way that you could feel absolutely every inch of him inside of you. 

“God damn, you feel so good,” he groaned as he pressed his forehead to yours. You had never felt so close to someone in your entire life, and you prayed it wasn’t just another symptom of the pollen. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” you moaned as he reached down with the arm that wasn’t supporting his weight and pulled your leg behind your knee so it rested in the crook of his elbow. “Jesus, Dean.” You bit down on your lower lip so hard you thought you tasted blood for a second. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered in that moment. 

He rocked against you so hard, the headboard bounced off of the thin wall of the motel room—the picture that hung above you rattled. Nothing mattered. 

Dean brought his lips hastily to your ear and kissed just below it before he whispered, “I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Let yourself go.” You shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your earlobe and the words he whispered huskily. You could hardly take it. 

Your release had already started to build—which wasn’t too surprising, considering how turned on you were to begin with. You snaked your fingers down between your bodies, the feeling of his pelvis crashing against yours sent another wave of goosebumps over your skin. 

You began to circle your clit with your fingertip as he secured your leg in the crook of his arm, his bicep flexed tightly. The sensation was overwhelming and you found yourself practically babbling moans and words strung together. “Fuck, Dean. Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” that elicited another chuckle from his lips but didn’t disrupt his movements as he plummeted into you. It felt like he was breaking through your cervix at this point. 

“Let yourself go,” he could feel your muscles beginning to twitch around him. His words tossed you over the edge. “Take what you need, sweetheart.” 

That was it. You felt like your release was practically boiling as it shook you to your core. You saw flashes of color, and your ears were ringing. Dean moved through it for you as you rode the wave. You vaguely heard yourself yell out his name as everything crashed around you. 

“You okay? You want me to stop?” He almost winced as his hips urged him to move but he wanted to respect the fact that the spell you were under had most likely dissipated now. 

“Don’t stop,” you hurriedly told him as you rocked your hips against him once more. “Your turn.” You leaned up to connect your lips to a sweet spot on his neck, your tongue ran over his stubble and nipped gently which elicited a groan from the back of his throat. 

“God damn,” he growled as his pace quickened again. Your muscles still twitched from your orgasm, you thought it might roll into a second wave—which would have been a first for you. 

After a few more thrusts from Dean, he practically collapsed on your chest. Your fingertips found his back, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You dug your nails gently as you drew small smoothing circles upon his skin. After a moment, he rolled so he was on his back just beside you. 

“That was magical,” your words practically slurred together as the room was filled with heavy breathing from both you and Dean—your chests rose and fell with each breath. 

Dean’s eyes were sealed shut, but you saw the grin that pulled at his lips and he chuckled. 

“You sure that’s not the sex pollen talkin’?” He drawled, his words etched together as well—a combination of exhaustion and post-sex effects. 

You gently bit at your bottom lip and glanced at him from your side of the bed. His eyes were still shut lazily, a slick layer of sweat glistened in the dim light of the motel. Maybe it was still sex pollen remnants, maybe not—but something gave you a sense of courage you had never had before. You leaned over his body and inched towards his face. “Guess we’ll just have to let round two decide…”

His eyes shot open but his grin stretched wider so you could see his bright white smile. His gaze trailed from your eyes to your lips. Just before he leaned up to press his lips to yours, he said, “Guess we will, won’t we?” 

And for the first time in your entire life—you were thankful for witches.

---------

A/N: Eek! I always get nervous posting ~smut~, but here we are! I love hearing what you think, so please don't be afraid to comment! Even if it's something I could work on for next time. Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @nelachu2423 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197

[emblemxeno]

If we're being honest, I got a lot of issues with Ingrid because I feel like she has the wrong character development

Her support with Dedue is realizing that she shouldn't apply her negative view of Duscur onto every Duscurian indiscriminately

That kind of thing works for Oboro because Nohrians really did kill her parents

But, Duscurians didn't actually cause the death of Lambert or Glenn, so her development should've been to learn that all those years of hatred were misdirected, and she hated them for no reason

It also didn't help that Dimitri states multiple times that Duscur didn't commit the crime, and Ingrid is still ignorant about it

I have this unhinged hatred of the Faerghus Four as a concept because every time, it's like they're consciously refusing to acknowledge the importance of Dedue in Dimitri's life in the present "Oh, these are Dimitri's childhood friends. Of course, they're close." Yeah, sure.... They're totally closer to Dimitri than Dedue is in the present.... *Internal screaming*

Combining these because my answer to both is similar!

In my opinion, it showcases how 3H's writing philosophy is ultimately shoddy in its foundation. The backstories, supports, and character-to-character dialogue itself is great in theory, but execution it clashed with what both FE usually tries to do and what 3H desperately wants to do.

FE typically has characters join chapter to chapter, with important ones having plot moments, while side characters fall to the background once their designated chapter is up. But this isn't at the cost of character interaction, pre-established relationships, and the micro-to-macro worldbuilding precisely because they're not overly important. You can have canon romances, friendships, familial relationships, etc. because that's all supplemental side material.

3H was written in a way in which the characters were all connected to its grandiose world, to the point where Fodlan itself can be almost considered a character. Multilayered backstories that infer key points in the narrative, each character no matter how trivial having opinions on how the world works, shifting dynamics, etc.

The problem though is that these two philosophies clash already at base, but also run into the problem of FE's gameplay integrated story elements.

None of the Faerghus Four can meaningfully comment on their relationship with Dimitri during a story cutscene because they can die. Ingrid can't meaningfully change her perspective on Dedue or Duscur beyond her supports because she can die. Therefore, all you get are (admittedly pretty good) supports, the monastery dialogue, and other tidbits intentionally disconnected from one another so as not to be important enough to write around potential death. The comments they do get in cutscenes were intentionally written in a way to be surface level and easily replaced. Look at the FEdatamine site for example, where conclusions are reached by Byleth, the lord, the unkillable retainer, and other important story figures, with numerous possible instances of "if X character is alive they comment this, but if X character is dead this line is skipped."

That is proof of how sloppy 3H's writing is in foundation when you think about it long enough. The game that has such an intricate world, thorough details, and fascinating story beats, is actually extremely bad at delivering a story, especially an FE story. Being the judgmental and petty cunt that I am, 3H gets a pass most of the time a) most don't care or bother to care about actual stuff like this and b) the game has the aesthetics of being a down to earth, gritty, serious narrative. The foundational issues don't matter when you have Edelgard yapping about "THE CREST SYSTEM", dark character circumstances, and intriguing mysteries to solve in part 1.

People want the appearance of sophistication, especially after Awakening and Fates bent a lot of rules to fuck around with their respective stories. It's why Engage, despite not having nearly as many basic issues at conveying its plot and is actually extremely good at being a Fire Emblem story (e.g. more character being able to actually die, pre-established relationships, chapter to chapter joining, not nearly as much centering on Alear as the ultimate decider on a character's fate compared to Byleth), is panned because... why? Its bright aesthetic? Its good dragon vs evil dragon plot? Its softer or humorous moments?

Hell, even its call backs to past FE games is called cheap, soulless, or a gateway to gacha (one video I saw even described it as something like "when art becomes obligation" or some such nonsense), despite it LITERALLY being the prime anniversary title. The main character is the Fire Emblem, and the writers-through Lumera-wish a happy birthday to Fire Emblem!!! What about that is lacking heart and soul?

But yeah, again, I preface that I'm a judgmental asshole who proudly proclaims that the audience (at least the western one) has for years been too obsessed with yearning for darker serious aesthetics of FE's past (despite said past being wackier than they remember), that when a new game has them in overflowing spades, the many fundamental video game writing issues do not matter as much anymore.

Aesop for the day: Serious tones and aesthetics are not automatically better than lighter, heartfelt, or funny ones. You still have to write well for a story to be good.

EDIT: Funny enough this is also why Three Hopes is a more comfy environment for the Fodlan cast's in terms of tangible development, because the things the writers want to do with that game's story complements its gameplay. Because KT is better at making Warriors plots than FE plots.

[kamenstranger]

A review(?) of Dandadan

Starting these reviews off is always the hardest part, but it often comes to me after some time filling out the rest of the article. Dandadan has been stubborn in that regard, so much so I've been trying to figure out where to start with this series since it first came out.

I began reading DDD before tankōbon's were being printed, hell before it even made it to NA digitally (There were translations in Europe which got them early iirc.) Then batches starting coming out, and I still have those original single chapters from Sept. 5 '21

I became captivated, but, like its namesake, describing why I enjoy DDD is daunting in how esoteric it all is.

The general plot is straightforward on its own: Momo Ayase, the granddaughter of a spirit medium, though circumstance meets with an occult obsessed otaku, Ken Takakura, and, yes, he's named after exactly who you think, which drives the Takakura obsessed Momo nuts. She calls him Okarun, which I will also be doing for the rest of this.

Okarun's big obsession is UFOs and aliens, which he believes in, but not ghosts. You see where this is going. Hi-jinks ensue, both go to hot spots for each others interest and what do you know, Momo gets abducted by Aliens and Okarun is possessed by a geriatric genital biting speed demon.

Feel free to re-read that last part a few times.

Suffice to say, Dandadan gets fucking nuts almost as soon as the first chapter, but we're not even close to how off the rails this series gets.

I'll save you the details of how they deal with the Turbo Granny, but I will say the mythos and rules surrounding the various spirits, urban legends, cryptids and aliens is handled with a shocking amount of intricate care. If you're like me, you grew up surrounded by a plethora of Unsolved Mysteries, caught UFO Files as it was airing, maybe you even had some of those Forbidden World books laying around from the 80s before getting into stuff like Yokai. Even though I don't really engage with that sorta thing outside Weird NJ nowadays (It stops being fun when people in public office are into conspiracies-- particularly of the nazi variety like lizard men and flat earth)

The narrative and aesthetic appeal of them has stuck with me.

Anyone that's read my Kamen Rider reviews would know how much of a sucker I am for that quintessential cryptid look, which Dandadan has plenty of along with just being absurdly unhinged and hilarious.

The first two volumes do a fantastic job setting up the limitations and powers of spirits in particular, eventually resulting in part of Turbo Granny's soul being trapped in a Meneki Neko and leaving her speed abilities with Okarun. Unfortunately, Okarun only got 1/3 of his bits back.

So now have two super powered protagonists touched by the supernatural and the unearthly on the search for…missing nuts. Or I guess testicles that look like magic golden orbs of power. That's seriously how we're kicking this off.

And yes, there is a basis for that in mythology called Kintama. If you're familiar with Gintama you probably knew that.

But beyond that basic set up… where the fuck do I even go from there? The series is far more than OTT action and good monster lore, but it's also hard to delve into the how and why of its overall qualities. Sure The supernatural and sci-fi bits are fantastic, and the comedy is wonderful, but it's a by product of the real core of Dandadan: the interpersonal relationships of the characters. Surprise.

Which yeah, if it wasn't clear from the get go, DDD has a romantic angle between Okarun and Momo.

Under the monsters, dick jokes, and the completely unhinged nature of everyone and everything is an oddly captivating and flat out adorable love story between our two leads, one that slowly unfolds but is challenged by the various shake ups from monsters, invaders and cast additions that occur to hinder that development; or in some cases push it further by bringing the two closer.

Okarun in particular very well might be one of my favorite interpretations of the Otaku with a heart of gold. He's a legitimately sweet person, cares for people, he trains his ass off to earn mastery over his powers to make things easier on Momo and to keep up with the ever increasing threats they face. In a sea of otaku power fantasy characters, it's nice to be reminded that characters with limitations and weaknesses to be overcome or dealt with are still showing up.

He's also just a total sweetheart to Momo.

And it's pretty clear even early on that the feeling is mutual. Momo is easily flustered whenever a cute girl gets a little too chummy with Okarun, or strings him along. She even retaliates in some cases.

Momo is also about as dorky as Okarun (As seen above) just in different ways, which makes the two complement one another while also contrasting in how much of a hot head Momo can be.

For a series that gets as bonkers as DDD, Momo's grade A shit talking "too stubborn to admit her feelings" gruff Gyaru personality helps ground the series with a rather realistic portrayal of a girl her age-- albeit one with psychic abilities and goes through some extreme struggles much later in the series.

In fact one of the more overlooked aspects whenever I read about Dandadan is how surprisingly dark the chapters start to get in the 80s onward. Because despite the major kick off involving Okarun having his balls stolen, the series is capable of being very sardonic.

For all the absurd fun like giant enemy crabs or the Flatwoods monster as a Sumowrestler, and even a daikaiju way later, you also have things like human sacrifices and tragic ghost stories which are treated with a heavy tone that is never undermined by that off-kilter comedy. You even see tones of that with Turbo Granny of all things, involving the trapped spirits of butchered girls.

Don't misunderstand, however, the series is first and foremost a romcom with horror elements, but sometimes the horror shines through in surprising ways. That nuance is also seen in the rest of the cast, which I've yet to talk about much because one of the biggest challenges of this whole thing is figuring out how.

Talking about Dandadan beyond the very bare basics of the opening chapters is difficult without spoiling something, it's part why I was hesitant to review it back when I first started reading, despite how enamored I was. For one thing, focusing on any one aspect would be a gross oversimplification, doing a disservice to how each angle of the series is handled. Conversely, delving into Dandadan as whole would mean recapping the story arcs and events because Dandadan has some of the most tightly woven threads I have seen in some time. I can barely graze the surface of why character dynamics work or are unique before inevitably getting into a full blown synopsis and spoiling character arcs and entire narrative structures, which is… frustrating, to say the least.

For example, I can't really give you a good look at Aira Shiratori without getting deep into how she's a schoolmate of Momo and Okarun, gets into a rivalry with Momo because Aira thinks she's a demon while viewing herself as "The special one"; a delusion made stronger when she gains her own demonic powers which is basically Sedusa. But over time she forms a bizarre friendship with the two over their trial and tribulations, while also dealing with the massive weight of guilt over cruel rumors she spread about Momo. But that really doesn't even begin to tell you how much of an absolute fucking perfect little bitch she is, and yet what an enjoyable dork she becomes. To do so would be to just tell you everything that happens in her story, which, while not complicated, is tied heavily into the narrative.

It's a similar scenario with Jin "JiJi" Enjoji, Momo's first crush, which you can imagine the upset that causes; one that's pretty goddamn funny because the dude, while handsome, athletically fit and arguably the strongest of the entire cast, has the personality of a goddamn muppet. So Okarun's getting all strung up on a guy even more goofy than him.

In a nice subversion, his relationship with Okarun develops into something surprisingly positive pretty quickly, if not without complications due to a fairly dark story with his character, which pushes Okarun even further in his training after Jin gets his own possession. And it also makes it all the more hilarious that the chipper muppet baby has a secondary Shadow the Hedgehog cracked to 11 persona that's a legit threat.

Then there's Kinta "Kinny" Sakata who is basically if Okarun was even more socially inept and a dipshit Gunpla addict who tried really hard to be a Jojo. His strengths is a vast knowledge of sci-fi tech and a chuuni like ability to imagine entire fantastical constructs; quite handy when mind reading alien nano machines enter the picture. It also helps break up the monotony of everyone else having or developing some sorta supernatural power.

And then we have Vamola, a character I literally cannot say a single thing about without giving away massive plot points. I can't even show a photo because her design itself contains spoilers. Just know that her story is when shit really hits the fan and will be a gut wrenching read while also having the most Battle Manga goodness.

What I can at least tell you is that for as much as Momo and Okarun are the main protagonists, Jin and Aira get damn good focus and are fully formed characters in their own right, they're not just a monkey-wrench thrown into the fray. I mean, they are also that, but they add to those elements while being more than a foil to our main heroes developing relationship, making the story much more varied and expansive than a supernatural will/won't they. Vamola especially in that area.

If there's one takeaway from this it's that Yukinobu Tatsu is capable of creating a great, varied cast full of humor and impeccable chemistry. (not to mention a lot of cheescake that shouldn't work as often as it does.) I'm constantly surprised with how masterful all the different pieces come together to create a compelling dynamic in this deranged Sci-Fi, Supernatural comedy mishmash. Hopefully I can convey a little bit of that Dada-esque appeal despite my spoiler aversion.

What's a lot easier for me to get across without spoilers, however, is the drop-dead gorgeous artwork. Good god is this series beautiful to look at.

Tatsu has a backround in, uh, backgrounds, and it shows on just about every page. Any one side panel has more detail than most double-page fight spreads in other books, and when they do a splash page it is breathtaking.

The fact this is a Weekly series is goddamn insane and… honestly kinda makes me a lowkey worried about their work ethic. But a lot of panels feature just the character on simple stark backgrounds (And some pages feel a little heavy on the reference material, if you get my meaning.) But even so, it's hardly a sacrifice for the impressive amount of work that goes into each chapter and how just about every other page has at least one impressive environment to gawk at.

Not only is the detail impeccable, but the layout, timing and expressions are goddamn phenomenal and a big part of making the series legitimately funny. That same talent translates seamlessly to high energy fights and impactful creepy moments.

This truly is one of the most compelling reasons to read the manga. At the time of this writing we're 5 episodes in the Science Saru anime and I want to make clear I'm enjoying it and do highly suggest watching it. I think their high octane stylistic approach is, in many ways, perfect for the series. There's clearly a lot of love put into translating page to screen best they can. Realistically, I know there's no way you could completely capture Tatsu's style 1:1, especially with what the industry is nowadays. The budget and man power it would take for that wouldn't be worth it.

But that sense of scope, scale, the depth, shading and a ton of small eccentricities is something unique to the manga and a big part of why it works. If you only know the anime then I think you're missing out. Plus you've got 8 volumes to read up on.

But also still watch the anime, I'd love a season 2. Hopefully with a bigger budget. Frankly, they're gonna need it.

That said, while I have praised and gassed up Dandadan, I should mention it has a number of trappings that by all means should not fly with me. As previously stated, there's a lot of cheesecake, and I like cheesecake, but it can bog down stories like this and they're a dime a dozen in the manga and anime world. At first glance DDD can look like that from the outside. There are so many instances of things that are annoying in other works, schlocky things (derogatory) that are sell themselves only on the limp-dicked exploitive elements like Fan service. Make no mistake, Dandadan is schlocky (complimentary) but it's also incredibly endearing not only outside those aspects, but in them. At least for the most part. I have to imagine it's aware of the more stupid indulgent elements but wisely plays them straight while at the same time employing a cleverness many other series fail to have.

For example, the characters are comically stripped very frequently, even (and usually) during otherwise semi-serious moments like battles (although not if the stakes are dire.)

But the cheescake is always balanced out by the other qualities. Hell, the cheesecake is often imbued a certain charm that is funny in itself or oddly sweet, which certainly becomes more true in the later chapters. Think more Cutie Honey and less Highschool of the Dead in terms of how it's handled.

A big hand in that is they're not afraid to get silly with all the characters, especially the girls, so it typically feels more tee-hee fun. They're almost if not equally goofy in their own ways and that does a lot in keeping it from being obnoxious. And ya know, they also have real developed personalities and relationships outside just having their clothes blasted off, which also happens to Okarun if that wasn't clear. Actually it's worse because he usually loses everything, and the same is also true for Jin.

It's so audacious in every aspect that I simply can't fault it. I mean, I also wouldn't fault anyone not gelling with it, but I just sorta expect it and roll with it for a series this absurd. I'm a critic, not a goddamn puritan. I know exactly what it is, and it's doing it far better than most. It is, at worst, background noise.

That's not to say the series handles all of its exploitative elements well. Rather infamously the first chapter has an almost not quite sexual assault for Momo. It's… not as bad as it sounds-- in part because it doesn't happen and also the situation is so absurd. Honestly I think there's been a bit much blown out of proportion with it. Still, the over the top nature of an Alien with a metal syringe dick getting his comeuppance by having it bitten off by a granny speed-demon can only mitigate the general grossness of the implication so much and I still wince at it. It's the only part of Dandadan that dips into a level a cheapness it otherwise sidesteps in most other endeavors. Thankfully, it happens early on, but it also isn't a great first impression, especially if you didn't have more chapters or episodes to view at the time, leaving you to wonder just what the hell kinda story this is.

It's worth noting some of the other early chapters have bumps here and there, but nothing quite on the level of chapter 1, and those parts are ironed out overtime to be a lot more palatable. Compare how chapter 3 handles T&A to chapter 26 and you'll know what I mean.

Aside from that, however, there is at least one semi major stigma I have against Dadadan's otherwise enjoyable self indulgent nature, which is that a lot of the monster designs are painfully derivative. And I mean DERIVATIVE. Just about every alien creature in this series is an Ultra Kaiju.

Oh Shin Godzilla in the case of Nessie.

And, look, I get homaging stuff you like. Dr. Slump has loads of references, Patlabor has references to Ultraseven, depending on which version of Urusei Yatsura you're looking at it's loaded with them, Project A-KO has them, Eva is a love letter to Jissouji Ultra (along with flat out copying a few fights from various 70s mecha anime) and even something like Bocchi The Rock is at least a quarter references. References are not the problem. Well, maybe a little, but I'm not gonna get Orson Wells on you here.

Regardless, its hard not to think that maybe they could've dialed it back a little bit.

The Z'gok in Gundam is based on Alien Zarabe but it's doesn't look like a knock-off version of it. But the Dover Demon in Dandadan looks like "original the character" Kanegon that turns into Baltan. Because it is.

Like come on, man. Even the Space Pirates in Metroid aren't this blatant.

Why this sticks out to much is because the art is so damn impressive but the design aspect is lacking in certain areas. I'm willing to give leeway for some designs if they're based on folklore elements like Ghosts, Yokai, and crypids. You want to make them recognizable, but can still work in cute references or original ideas without being as glaring as "we have Ultra Seijin at home." For what it's worth, I guess Dada knockoffs with Pegassa eyes are better than generic greys. But while it's cute at first, I felt it got irksome by the time I saw Shin Godzilla… and then Hipporit as a subterranean shows up. Then a tail-less xenomorph. And Alien Guts, and a Metal Gear, and Elecking, even an Alien Zarabe.

A lot of those do end up as cannon fodder so I can understand not wanting to put a lot of work into stuff that ends up being one offs. I can't deny the art looks incredible and hype as fuck. But man, it gets distracting sometimes, especially when Gomora shows up at one point with the body of Red King and later on they end up making that a major deity in an alien culture. It's not played as a joke at all. It is one of the most dead serious chapters… But it's still just an Ultra Kaiju. Sometimes I'm reading Dandadan and I'm having a great time and I'm getting all the referential designs, and I don't *hate* this, but in the back of my head all I can think of is that line in Akibaranger.

And on some level I do get how that borderline level of infringement adds to the absurdity, how the near mono focus of a singular love for Tsuburaya is charming. Hell, it's even refreshing in some ways considering how that hasn't really been a thing in Japan since the 80s. But it does still get a bit much from the sheer volume.

I think on some level Tatsu knows this because in the more recent chapters the Serpo Aliens are primarily depicted in their disguised forms and the fake Gomora gets a slight redesign in later appearances that's a lot more generic. I sort of get the impression things that were maybe meant to be one off gags ended up becoming reoccurring elements, but given the tone and humor of the series that's really hard to tell, for better or worse.

Although kudos to Science Saru saying fuck it and making the opening to the anime one big Ultraman reference. They know what they're doing.

All that said... I don't really know where to lead off from here. Dandadan is still ongoing, currently at about 170 chapters in Japan, while the anime is still currently airing the first season. So I can't really give a full review of either. Likewise, for all I know the series could go completely off the rails at some point-- in a bad way, I mean.

As it stands I'm still finding enjoyment out of this series and now seems good a time as any to suggest everyone check it out. There's multiple manga out, it's easily available digitally, there's the anime across multiple platforms in NA, we've got figuarts coming out. It's good to see.

I was long over due for look since first reading those Glitter screen-grabs some years back.

Funny enough, this late August I visited my Girlfriend in Illinois and got to see 8 volumes of Dandadan on the shelf in a comic shop, that was a nice surreal experience for something that wasn't even available digitally in NA when I first started reading it.

What I didn't realize at the time was when I took a photo of them on the shelf, it was September 5, three years to the day I got the first few chapters. So yeah, it was time for this to happen.

Given the on going status of DDD, I'll certainly be revisiting the series for a future look at and proper review. Until then, I encourage you to read the manga and see if you see what I see. It might not be some super deep narrative, but it is most certainly unique and well worth your time.

As always, thanks for reading.

[cherubiyeon]

on my knees begging for a male reader (or gender neutral if thats more comfy) x minji or wonyoung where he's just so obsessed with her and is constantly pining or showering her in gifts and flowers

here, there and everywhere | ive jang wonyoung x gender neutral reader

just you, being the most absolutely smitten dork for your girlfriend.

✩ warnings. non-idol!au, university!au, established relationship, very dialogue heavy lol, reader sucks in budgeting fr do not try to be like them, mention of food like once ?

✩ word count. ~3k words

✩ playing. here, there and everywhere [the beatles]

☆ notes. hi anon! i didnt really like this fic ong this sucked but i chose wonyoung bc i havent wrote a fic for her for awhile :P anyways hope u like this!!

"y/n? y/n? earth to y/n?"

wonyoung's voice cut through the haze of y/n's thoughts, jolting them back to reality. they blinked a few times, their gaze refocusing as they met wonyoung's amused eyes. the campus cafe buzzed around them, students chatting, forks clinking against plates, and the aroma of brewed coffee filling the air.

"oh, sorry," y/n stammered, feeling a flush rise to their cheeks. "i guess i zoned out for a moment."

wonyoung grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "you're always getting lost in your thoughts, aren't you?"

y/n nodded, offering a sheepish smile. "guilty as charged. you have that effect on me, you know?"

wonyoung's laughter was like music, filling the air around them. "well, i'm flattered," she said, her smile turning into a warm, genuine one. "so, what were you thinking about?"

with a soft chuckle, y/n leaned in slightly, their tone conspiratorial. "alright, alright. i was pondering the mysteries of the universe. you know, the usual."

wonyoung's laughter tinkled through the air again, and y/n found themselves mesmerized by the genuine warmth in her expression. "well, as long as you're not plotting world domination in there," she teased.

"world domination is so last century," y/n quipped, finally fully engaged in the conversation. "i'm thinking more along the lines of solving the eternal debate: cats or dogs?"

wonyoung's laughter died down, and she regarded y/n with a soft smile. "you're something else, you know that?"

as they continued bantering, y/n's heart raced. it was still hard to believe they were actually dating someone like wonyoung. the laughter, the teasing—it all felt so surreal.

just as y/n was about to take another bite of their sandwich, they suddenly remembered the hidden treasure in their bag. their eyes widened, and they glanced at wonyoung with an almost comical mix of excitement and apprehension.

"wonyoung," y/n began, their voice a tad nervous, "i... i have something for you."

wonyoung's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "oh? what's the occasion?"

wonyoung's eyes widened with surprise as she accepted the gift. "y/n, what's this?"

y/n's cheeks turned a shade of pink that rivaled a sunset. "i... i wanted to get you something special." they cleared their throat, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. "i may have, um, spent this month's allowance on it."

wonyoung carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing an exquisite piece of jewelry, something that would catch anyone's eye. she gasped softly, her fingers tracing the intricate design. "y/n, this is... this is stunning."

y/n grinned, their heart doing somersaults. "i'm glad you like it."

wonyoung's gaze shifted between y/n and the box, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "well, aren't you full of surprises today?"

y/n's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. "i just... i saw this and thought of you. i know it's a bit extravagant, but i really wanted to get it for you."

wonyoung's laughter tinkled like wind chimes. reaching across the table, she brushed her fingers against y/n's hand, her eyes twinkling with affection. "... i must admit, spending a month's worth of allowance on a gift isn't exactly the wisest financial move, but i truly appreciate this."

y/n couldn't resist the gleam in wonyoung's eyes. with a mischievous grin, they leaned in closer, their voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "you know, wonyoung, they say that people who receive extravagant gifts are obligated to give the giver a kiss."

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "is that so? and who are these 'they' you speak of?"

y/n shrugged, their smile growing wider. "oh, you know, the wise sages of campus lore. they're quite adamant about it."

wonyoung chuckled softly, her gaze locked onto y/n's. "well, who am i to go against the wisdom of campus lore?" as she spoke, she carefully placed the necklace back in its box, sliding it away slightly.

y/n's cheeks were tinted with a rosy hue as they looked away, and wonyoung wore a smile that could outshine the sun. "well," wonyoung said, her voice a playful purr, "i suppose it's only fair that i follow tradition."

before y/n could react, wonyoung's lips pressed against theirs in a gentle, sweet kiss. it was as if time stood still, the world around them fading into a distant background as they savored the moment.

when they finally broke apart, y/n was left breathless and dizzy, their heart pounding in their chest. "wow," was all they managed to say, their voice a soft whisper.

wonyoung giggled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "you're such a dork, y/n."

y/n grinned unabashedly. "well, yeah. but hey, who can resist when they're in the presence of someone as amazing as you?"

wonyoung rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "you really know how to lay on the charm, don't you?"

y/n leaned back in their chair, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "well, i believe it's my duty to keep the amazing people around me entertained."

wonyoung chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "you certainly have a unique way of doing that."

"oh, you haven't seen the half of it," y/n replied with a grin, their fingers drumming playfully on the table. "i've been practicing my pickup lines, you know."

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh really? do share."

y/n feigned a thoughtful expression, rubbing their chin dramatically. "hmm, let's see... are you a campfire? because you're hot and i want s'more."

wonyoung burst into laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "that's... something, alright." she leaned back slightly, still chuckling.

"i have plenty more where that came from," y/n teased, their smile growing wider. "but i'll save them for special occasions."

wonyoung shook her head with an affectionate smile, her laughter fading into a delighted grin. "you say the worst pickup lines, ever."

y/n's expression turned softer, their eyes locking onto wonyoung's. "only because you bring out the best—or worst—in me."

wonyoung's smile was warm, her gaze locked onto y/n's. "well, your worst lines are still pretty endearing." she leaned in a little closer.

y/n leaned in as well, a playful glint in their eyes. "oh, just wait until you hear my best ones." their lips curled into a mischievous smile.

wonyoung's laughter blended seamlessly with the café's ambiance, and she shook her head in mock disbelief. "i can't believe i'm dating someone who actually uses pickup lines."

y/n's tone turned mock-innocent. "what can i say? i'm just a person of many talents."

wonyoung's eyes twinkled mischievously. "and do these talents include making me smile?"

y/n nodded dramatically, their hand resting over their heart. "absolutely. making you smile is my top priority, followed closely by making terrible puns."

wonyoung's laughter filled the air, a delightful melody that never failed to make y/n's heart skip a beat. she leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "well, you've certainly succeeded in making me smile today."

y/n couldn't help but grin, their gaze locked onto wonyoung's. "that's all i ever want to do."

as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence, y/n noticed wonyoung eyeing the unwrapped necklace on the table. with a gentle smile, y/n picked it up and held it out to her. "would you like to try it on?"

wonyoung's eyes widened with surprise, her fingers hovering over the exquisite piece of jewelry. "you're really okay with me trying it on?"

y/n nodded, their voice soft. "of course, it's meant for you, after all."

wonyoung carefully took the necklace, her fingers tracing the delicate chain and the shimmering pendant. she turned her attention back to y/n, her expression a mix of gratitude and wonder. "i can't believe you spent a month's worth of allowance on this, y/n."

y/n reached out, their fingers brushing against wonyoung's cheek. "you're worth every penny, wonyoung. that necklace is too small compared to how much you mean to me."

wonyoung's eyes glistened with emotion, and she leaned in to press a soft kiss to y/n's lips. it was a sweet, tender kiss that spoke volumes, a silent affirmation of their love.

when they finally pulled away, y/n whispered, "i'd spend a lifetime's worth of allowance just to see you smile."

wonyoung's smile was radiant, her fingers gently threading through y/n's hair. "so cheesy of you, y/n."

with the necklace draped around her neck, wonyoung looked even more stunning, if that was even possible. she leaned in to whisper in y/n's ear, "you know, i think you've officially spoiled me."

y/n's heart swelled at wonyoung's words, their fingers gently brushing against wonyoung's cheek. "and you've spoiled me too, in the best possible way."

as they gazed into each other's eyes, the air around them seemed to crackle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. y/n's heart raced, and they found themselves leaning in, their lips meeting wonyoung's in a soft, delicate kiss. it was a kiss filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between them, a sweet exchange of feelings that left them both breathless.

when they pulled away, their eyes locked onto each other's, their expressions a mix of surprise and wonder. y/n's voice was soft as they whispered, "i couldn't resist any longer."

wonyoung's smile was a mixture of delight and affection. "i've been waiting for that."

y/n's fingers played with a strand of wonyoung's hair, a playful glint in their eyes. "well, i had to catch up to all those times you stole kisses from me."

wonyoung chuckled softly, her fingers tracing patterns on the table. "i couldn't help myself. you're just too irresistible."

y/n's grin grew wider. "i'm glad you think so."

the café bustled around them, students coming and going, the aroma of coffee filling the air. but in that little bubble they had created, it was just y/n and wonyoung, two souls intertwined in a love that was as real as it was captivating.

y/n's fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of their coffee cup, their gaze never leaving wonyoung's. "you know, i've never been one to believe in fate, but meeting you has made me question that."

wonyoung's smile held a touch of playfulness, her gaze locking onto y/n's with a glimmer of curiosity. "wait a minute, is that one of those pickup lines you've been practicing?"

y/n's eyes widened in mock surprise, their hand placed dramatically over their heart. "i am deeply offended that you'd accuse me of such a thing! my words are as sincere as my undying love for... coffee."

wonyoung laughed, the sound tinkling like a melody. "oh, really? coffee, huh? that's quite the declaration."

y/n's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "well, you know, it's a classic. coffee has always been there for me, unlike certain tall and charismatic individuals."

wonyoung's playful expression turned into a mock pout. "are you saying i'm not dependable?"

y/n's gaze softened, their fingers brushing gently against wonyoung's knuckles. "on the contrary, you're the most dependable thing in my life. and the most extraordinary."

wonyoung's pout transformed into a warm smile, her thumb brushing over y/n's hand. "you really have a way with words, don't you?"

y/n shrugged, their expression bashful. "i guess they just come naturally when i'm around you."

wonyoung took another sip of her coffee, her gaze focused on the table for a moment as if lost in thought. y/n, ever the observer, watched her with a soft smile, taking in the way her features seemed to light up in the warm glow of the café's lighting. finally, unable to contain their admiration, they spoke.

"you're so pretty," y/n said softly, their voice a gentle affirmation of the thoughts running through their mind.

wonyoung looked up, her eyes meeting y/n's, and her cheeks took on a faint rosy hue. "stop it, you're making me blush."

y/n chuckled, their heart swelling with affection. "i can't help it. i'm just stating the facts."

wonyoung's laughter filled the air once again, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to y/n's face. "well, i have to say, your compliments are almost as charming as your terrible pickup lines."

y/n feigned offense, placing a hand over their chest dramatically. "how dare you insult my impeccable taste in pickup lines? they're an art form!"

wonyoung laughed even harder, her fingers wiping away a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. "oh, believe me, they're a form of something, alright."

y/n grinned, their heart dancing with joy at the sight of wonyoung's laughter. and in that moment, as wonyoung's laughter echoed through the café, something welled up inside y/n—a feeling they had been carrying for a while, a truth they couldn't contain any longer.

"i've got to admit something," y/n's voice wavered slightly, their gaze never leaving wonyoung's.

wonyoung's curiosity was piqued, her eyes attentive as she leaned in a bit closer. "oh? what is it?"

a moment of vulnerability hung in the air, and y/n took a deep breath before continuing. "i think about you... a lot. like, i'm completely and utterly infatuated."

wonyoung's expression softened, her fingers finding their way to y/n's hand. "you're not alone in that, you know."

a playful grin played on y/n's lips. "really? you're infatuated with yourself too?"

wonyoung's pout transformed into a warm smile, her thumb brushing over y/n's hand. "you really have a way with words, don't you?"

y/n shrugged, their expression bashful. "i guess they just come naturally when i'm around you."

wonyoung's fingers found their way to y/n's, their touch sending shivers down y/n's spine. "you have a way of making my heart race too, you know? and i don't mind it one bit."

y/n's breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding like a drum in their chest. with wonyoung's fingers interlaced with theirs, the connection felt electric, a current of emotion flowing between them.

the air around them seemed to shimmer with an unspoken understanding, a shared sentiment that transcended words. and in that moment, the weight of their feelings hung in the space between them.

wonyoung's eyes held a mixture of affection and vulnerability as she whispered, "y/n, there's something i want to tell you."

y/n's heart skipped a beat, their anticipation growing as they waited for wonyoung's next words. "what is it?"

wonyoung took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with emotion.

"i love you, y/n."

the world seemed to stand still for a moment, and y/n's breath caught in their throat. did they hear her right? was this real? for a split second, doubt crept in, freezing y/n in place.

wonyoung's gaze held a hint of playfulness, her smile warm. "cat got your tongue?"

y/n's eyes widened, and they quickly shook their head, the words tumbling out in a rush. "no, no! i mean... i love you too! i really, really do!"

wonyoung's laughter was like a gentle breeze, her eyes dancing with mirth. "oh, how the tables have turned."

y/n's cheeks flushed, and they tried to regain their composure. "i didn't mean to... i mean, i did, but..."

wonyoung leaned in, her lips brushing against y/n's ear as she whispered, "it's okay, you know. i don't mind being the first one to say it."

y/n's heart swelled, their embarrassment melting away in the warmth of wonyoung's reassurance. "well, now i've said it too. and i mean it."

wonyoung leaned back, her expression soft and affectionate. "i know you do. and i'm so glad you do."

y/n couldn't help but smile, their heart full to the brim with affection for the girl sitting across from them. "you know, i never thought i'd be lucky enough to experience something like this."

wonyoung's fingers danced along the rim of her coffee cup, her gaze never leaving y/n's. "and what's that?"

"being utterly and completely in love with you," y/n confessed, their voice a gentle whisper.

wonyoung's smile was a reflection of the stars that had aligned to bring them together. "well, get used to it, because i have a feeling that's not going to change anytime soon."

the corner of y/n's lips quirked up mischievously. "is that a promise?"

wonyoung's laughter, like the tinkling of wind chimes, filled the air around them. "absolutely. i'm not going anywhere."

the world continued to move around them—the café's patrons came and went, the lunchtime rush in full swing—but none of that mattered. in this cozy corner they had carved out for themselves, it was just the two of them, lost in the cadence of their conversation and the unspoken promises that hung in the air.

"y/n?"

wonyoung's voice pulled y/n from their thoughts, their focus narrowing solely on the person who held their heart.

"yeah?"

wonyoung's smile was as bright as the midday sun. "i love you."

y/n's heart swelled, their voice a gentle echo of the emotion that had taken root within them. "i love you too."

wonyoung's laughter danced through the air, a delightful melody that wrapped around them like a warm embrace. "well, you didn't seem as nervous this time," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

y/n playfully nudged her shoulder. "hey now, cut me some slack. it's not every day that someone as amazing as you confesses their love to me."

wonyoung's laughter continued, a joyful chorus that painted the air with happiness. "point taken," she managed to say through her giggles.

"shut up," y/n muttered, though their lips curved into a fond smile.

wonyoung's laughter lingered in the air one last time, a joyful serenade that resonated with the happiness in y/n's heart. with a gentle nudge, she leaned in to place a sweet kiss on y/n's cheek. "you're adorable," she said with an affectionate grin.

y/n's cheeks flushed, their heart dancing with joy. "and you're insufferable," they replied, their tone playful.

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "insufferable, huh? is that why you can't seem to get enough of me?"

y/n rolled their eyes with a mock exasperated sigh, a smile playing on their lips. "you caught me," they admitted, raising their arms in surrender.

as they shared a laugh, y/n found themselves enveloped in a sense of contentment that was as comforting as a warm embrace. in wonyoung's presence, everything felt right, and every worry seemed to melt away.

[peppymintdreams]

Sakuverse Daycare Setting:

Daycare Friendships/Groups:

Isaac + Andrew – A quiet yet intense bond. They’re inseparable, always found whispering in a corner, solving “big mysteries” that only they understand. Other kids see them as a pair of mini-detectives. Or in the attendants eyes “lovers”

Elias + Luca – Elias is the protective, wild older brother to Luca’s shy, gentle nature. If anyone messes with Luca, Elias is there, puffing up like a mini-hero.

Isaac + Elias – Isaac, the stern curious older sibling type, guides Elias with wisdom beyond his years. Elias looks up to Isaac like a little brother to his older brother, even if he won’t admit it.

Andrew + Luca – Andrew, surprisingly warm for such a quiet child, gravitates toward Luca. They sit together during snack time or nap time, forming an unexpectedly close bond.

Xanthus + Elias – They bond over a shared love of beauty—Xanthus creates intricate art with blocks, while Elias talks endlessly about the stars, wondering if they’ll meet an artist like Xanthus in the sky.

Isaac + Luca – Isaac shares random facts or deep musings with Luca, who listens in awe, even if he doesn’t fully understand. Luca asks curious questions, and Isaac patiently explains things to him.

Xanthus + Everyone – Xanthus is the distant observer, studying the others like a scientist. He occasionally steps in to help Elias with a prank, answer one of Isaac’s questions, or calm Luca with a perfectly timed hug.

Behavior Breakdown:

Luca

The Gentle Soul (Age: Youngest)

Shy, soft-spoken, and always clutching a slightly worn stuffed animal (probably a bunny or cat).

Shares toys with everyone, often without being asked.

Gives quiet, comforting hugs when he sees someone upset.

Looks up to Elias like a hero but feels safest near Andrew’s quiet presence.

His favorite thing? Building little tea parties or lining up toy animals to "care for them."

His mom leaving him circus animal cookies that he shares.

Likes to play hopscotch

Isaac

The Inquisitive Thinker (Age: Second Oldest)

Asks deep, thoughtful questions like, “Why do stars disappear in the morning?” or “Where do feelings go when you stop feeling them?”

Always sharing his crayons and explaining things in a calm, patient tone, especially to Luca.

Talks a lot about his mother, often making other kids curious.

Watches everyone with curiosity, mentally piecing together how they interact like a puzzle.

“Close” to Andrew—often seen sitting quietly beside him, reading or thinking. (Holding his hand)

Likes to play the roller tic tac toe

Andrew

The Quiet Organizer (Age: Middle)

The child who arranges toys by size, color, and function without being asked.

Observes the other children with a critical, analytical eye but rarely speaks unless necessary.

Often reads “big boy” books while side-eyeing the chaos Elias creates.

Best friends with Isaac, always seen discussing “important” topics or quietly watching over Luca.

Doesn’t openly engage in physical play but steps in if something becomes too chaotic.

If his twin Simon were to attend the daycare he’d like to go on the teeter totter (or see-saw) with him

Elias

The Mischievous Charmer (Age: Second Youngest)

The daycare’s little troublemaker, grinning mischievously as he leads the other kids into harmless pranks.

Quick to charm the adults with his big, innocent eyes and request, “Kiss my boo-boo? It really hwurts.” 🥺

Protective of Luca and looks up to Isaac for “big ideas” while subtly challenging Andrew for being too serious.

His energy is boundless, but his loyalty to his “little brother” Luca and admiration for Xanthus’ creativity shows his softer side.

Often climbs things he shouldn’t, causing chaos before flashing a grin to get out of trouble.

Enjoys slides (he pushes Luca down them)

Xanthus

The Silent Architect (Age: Oldest)

Always sits apart from the group, meticulously stacking blocks into intricate, almost impossible towers.

Exudes a quiet authority that makes other kids give him space, though they’re drawn to him out of fascination.

Occasionally joins the group, offering cryptic but oddly insightful advice or lending a hand with Elias’ pranks.

Shares a unique bond with Elias over their admiration for beauty—Xanthus in art, Elias in the stars.

He rarely speaks, but when he does, it’s often profound and leaves the other children thoughtful or quiet.

Likes playing on the swings, will quietly ask any of the other children if they want to join him.

[tricitymonsters]

i am thinking of your dudes so much lately.... what kind of stories do they like! for movies/comics/books/series/games/whatever, are they more into a complex plot or individual characters or cool scenes or author's individual style orrr?

Ahhh thank you ;w;

Mori has like terminal attention span issues so he's very big on stuff that is concise and big-impact that can hold his attention. He's not a big reader usually but he likes movies and tv with a fair amount of spectacle and high information density. Mysteries and intricate dramas are usually the worst genres for him while action, horror, and comedy type media are usually best for him. He also watches a lot of cartoons.

Amir needs engagement so intricate plots, well written twists, elaborate set dressings are definitely his favorite. Murder mysteries, complex fantasy or sci fi (he leans harder into fantasy as a genre but both are fine), but he also likes to critique everything he watches so/can't just watch something for the fun of it so expect his thoughtful analysis after everything you watch. He's also into some drier stuff like documentaries, history, or socio-political stuff.

Akello is either Totally Into or Totally Disinterested in a lot of tv/movies. Like Amir, he gets absorbed in documentary or educational-type stuff because he is genuinely interested in most of the usual topics there. He also likes what I call "Dad Movie Classics" and has several that he goes back to a lot/tends to rewatch movies he likes. Akello played a lot of video games when he was younger (they kept him sane during college struggles) and likes really intricate RPGs/JRPGs though it's been a long time since he's played one. Fantasy settings are cool and all but he tends to gravitate towards modern and sci-fi settings most, and best if it's a combo.

[novelmonger]

Sorry, i know this is a bit random, but i recall you wrote ages ago that Carol Berg helped you get over disowning Robin Hobb as your favourite author (did i get that right?), and being familiar with both authors myself, I couldn't help but wonder what’s the story there? :) (just discard this if it's something very personal)

Ohhh, impressive memory! Yeah, I don't mind sharing, if you'll forgive me for being a little dramatic about the matter...and long-winded ^^'

(To be clear, the only Robin Hobb books I've read are the Farseer Trilogy, Fool's Errand, and The Golden Fool. The only Carol Berg books I've read so far are The Spirit Lens and The Soul Mirror.)

I was first introduced to Robin Hobb when my brother gave me the Farseer Trilogy when he went off to college, a year before I did the same. That was a very weird and stressful in-between sort of year, one where I really needed some other world to escape to, so I utterly devoured that trilogy.

Assassin's Apprentice, especially, really grabbed my imagination (and is the one book of hers I still have on my shelf). In many ways, it's the kind of story I hope to be able to write one day. It's high fantasy, with magic and kings and queens (and eventually dragons, but not in that particular book), but it feels very grounded. It doesn't brush aside some of the more sordid aspects of medieval life, while not making everything feel grungy and ugly like some grimdark stories I could name. There is ugliness, but there is also beauty - in realistic measures that makes the world feel like one that actually exists somewhere.

I also loved how deeply emotional Robin Hobb's writing was. I immediately felt like I was living under Fitz's skin, feeling things as he felt them. It's not rare for me to cry when reading a good book, but there were several scenes where it really struck me hard and I just sobbed my heart out. (I'm particularly thinking of the last scenes with Smithy and Nighteyes, as well as Fitz saying goodbye to Burrich in...I think that was the third book?) A lot of fantasy in general, and especially the books I'd been reading around that time, were much more plot-focused, so even when the worlds were cool and the plot was engaging, I wouldn't get hit with emotion that strongly. Robin Hobb really stood out in that regard, because while her stories have intricate plots, they're also intimately characterized. I don't think there was a single character in that series who felt flat.

Besides that, Fitz is a very sympathetic character, especially in the first book when he's just a kid who doesn't fully understand what's going on - and I've always had a thing for lonely little boys. And then there's his animal companions! Nosey! Smithy! Nighteyes! (Oh my word, Nighteyes alk;djfsdlkjf) And I also really liked a lot of the human secondary characters, especially Burrich, Kettricken, and Verity.

But more than anyone else, my favorite character, at least from the second book onward, was the Fool. He was so kooky and weird, so mysterious, so multi-faceted. One minute he seems almost half-witted, the next he rattles off something truly wise. And certainly by the end of the Farseer Trilogy, I adored the way his relationship was unfolding with Fitz. It seemed like everything I've always wanted and so rarely seem to find: two men who trust each other with their lives, who would die for each other, who aren't afraid of telling each other that they love each other, without even a question of romance.

Well. If you've read the Tawny Man trilogy, you might be able to guess some of where this is going.

I think my main problem was identifying too closely with the writing. I didn't just say, "Robin Hobb is my favorite author!" or "Robin Hobb is my writing role model!" It was like...because I recognized multiple very important things in her writing that I also wanted to achieve in my own writing, I went beyond simply trying to learn from a master and skipping ahead to assuming that she would craft her stories the same way I would in ten, twenty, thirty years. Like the only difference between us was time and experience, like we had the same values and the same ideas about characters and stories.

(To draw a contrast, I would now say that my primary writing role model is Brandon Sanderson. I really admire his worldbuilding and the way he crafts compelling plots and interesting magic systems but also does really well with making characters interesting and realistic, so I can enjoy a breathtaking plot and also sob my heart out in the emotional scenes. And I also really like the way he writes romances. But while I know there's lots I can learn from him, we write very different stories. I don't really have any aspirations to write epic fantasy with huge, sprawling casts and intricate magic systems. I'm much more interested in smaller, standalone stories that focus on just a few characters who might not even be saving the world. So it's much easier to read his books and go, "Wow, that was awesome! I have so much to learn from him! But I would never have written XYZ that way.")

Looking back, I can see a lot of red flags that should have jolted me out of this weird way I was reading Robin Hobb, things that should have clued me in much earlier that it wasn't just that Robin Hobb is a much better writer with ages more experience than me, it's also that we have very different ideas of how to handle a story and its characters. If I'd noticed sooner, maybe I would have been able to just enjoy her books for what they are instead of imagining that they were something else and then getting sucker-punched when I couldn't deny the truth any longer.

One indicator was Robin Hobb's stance on fanfiction. She took her rant down from her website, so I suppose it could be that her opinion of fanfiction has changed, but she's still on the forbidden list on FFNet, for whatever that's worth. Anyway, my point is simply that anyone who ever felt that strongly against fanfiction is clearly not someone who sees eye to eye with me on everything XD

Another interesting point is how, now that I've put several years between me and these books, I see how kind of...excessive Robin Hobb could be with all the horrible things that happen to her protagonist? Don't get me wrong, I love angst and whump probably more than I should, and it made for some really dramatic and nail-biting plots because it was clear that she wouldn't balk at going so far as to permanently maim Fitz if she thought the story called for it. Worse than that, she kept on tearing away everyone he loved in one way or another. There is so much pain and darkness in these books, and Fitz always seems to come out the worse for it, despite all of his efforts. If I'd been writing the stories, I would have given him a bit more of a break here and there ^^'

More to the point, though, is the way Robin Hobb handles romance. I knew from the second book (when Fitz is actually old enough to have romantic entanglements) that I did not care for her romances whatsoever. I don't think there was a single romance in any of the books I read of hers that I whole-heartedly liked without any reservations. (Kettricken and Verity came closest, but we hardly even see them together, and then there's that whole thing with Fitz....) Content-wise, they're not the most graphic scenes I've flipped past read, but the way Fitz never fails to make the absolute worst choices when it comes to romance, and the way he never fully commits to any of his romantic partners...like, I get it (at least sometimes), but I don't respect it.

Normally, I wouldn't keep going with an author who puts so much sexual content into her stories, even if it's not usually described in much detail. I would have gotten fed up with Fitz's dumb romances...but I really liked everything else about the books, so I persevered. Even if Robin Hobb's romances were crap, at least she was doing a really good job at making me care about all the other relationships. At least she was doing something I'd so rarely seen, with Fitz and the Fool's close friendship. There was no drama there. No dumb misunderstandings or stupid choices.

Until there was.

When I got to a certain scene in The Golden Fool, where rumors abound about the Fool's sexuality and Fitz finally confronts him (for the second time) and is like, "There's nothing romantic going on between us, right???" I was crushed by the Fool's response. I was waiting for another scene kind of like the one in...Assassin's Quest, I think it was, where he asks a similar question and the Fool's answer is basically, "Why does it matter? I love you, that's all." Instead of that, the Fool's response leads Fitz to understand that the Fool is in love with him (I don't have the book anymore, but I seem to remember the line going something like, "I love you in every way possible."), and he handles it as well as Fitz ever does, which is to say, terribly.

That was the moment where everything came crashing down. I don't know, maybe no one will really understand why that was such a big deal to me, but it was like all of a sudden I couldn't fool myself anymore, and I saw that Robin Hobb was taking the relationship in a direction I never wanted it to go. I wanted it to be the one uncomplicated relationship Fitz still had. I wanted it to go without saying that they loved each other, but not romantically. In that moment, I realized I didn't care what the answer to the mysterious things about the Fool's identity was. I didn't care if the resolution of it all ended up being that the Fool was a woman after all, or that he's some kind of androgynous or hermaphrodite creature, or that he ended up being a dragon or a fairy or anything else. I didn't care what the answer was, because I didn't want them to ask the question in the first place.

It was the weirdest feeling. Like...usually, if I make it past a certain point in a book, nothing short of a graphic sex scene or something truly horrible will make me stop reading it, even if I'm bored and don't care anymore. I usually at least want to see how things end. But when I got to that scene of this series I was deeply invested in, that had made me cry and smile so many times...all of a sudden, I didn't care at all. I didn't care if everybody died horrible deaths. Because the magic was shattered, and suddenly I was looking at letters printed on a page that I didn't much care for, rather than a vibrant world passing before my eyes.

So I kept Assassin's Apprentice, because I still think Robin Hobb is an excellent writer, and that's the one book in the series that doesn't have any romance for Fitz to screw up. But I sold all the other books, and have never felt even the slightest urge to read any more of her writing.

At long last, this is the part where Carol Berg comes in! I don't remember how long it had been since I disowned Robin Hobb as my favorite fantasy author, but at one point I picked up The Spirit Lens. I don't know if you'll agree with me or not, but I noticed a lot of similarities to Robin Hobb's stories. The way Portier hides in plain sight but is the one who really gets things done in the kingdom. The way the fantasy is magical and interesting, but still very grounded, paying attention to things like the workings of the court and such. The exquisitely horrible torture Portier suffers.

But most of all, my favorite character, Ilario de Sylvae! 8D The second he came on the page, I sat up straight, feeling like I'd just heard a familiar voice. Not necessarily because of his actual voice, but his character is so reminiscent of the Fool! Pretending to be a foppish rich boy who faints on couches at the sight of blood, only to reveal he's actually very serious, very skilled, and has a heart of gold. He comes through for his friends in the nick of time. He cares deeply for Portier, especially, but there's not a hint of romance between them. (At least, not in the two books I've read. I picked up on what might be some hints as to his sexuality, or at least the hints of questions, so if that becomes a thing in the third book, I guess I'm wrong about this. But so far I don't see any of that between him and Portier.)

So it's really interesting, because I was so enamored with Robin Hobb's stories, just blown away by the sheer emotion, but while I've enjoyed Carol Berg so far, I wouldn't say she's in my top five or anything. I think she's an excellent author and I really do love her characters, but I don't think they've made me cry so far. And yet, reading The Spirit Lens kind of healed the wound left by The Golden Fool. I'm not expecting Carol Berg to write the story exactly the way I would - in fact, I don't think I would ever get to the point of writing that particular story! - but that frees me to just enjoy a good story well told. And I can see echoes of Fitz and the Fool in Portier and Ilario, without any of the qualities that aggravated me so much. Like I can finally get the resolution I didn't realize I still needed.

Anyway, that's my story! Hopefully I didn't bore you to tears! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the two authors.

[hexenmond]

Webcomic Wednesday: The Witch Door

Well, I've been thinking about this the whole day now, and I'm almost frustrated that I can't seem to put this into words so easily. What's great about The Witch Door? Well honestly, what isn't?

I thought about Anni's other comic (Transfusions) and how I'm finding that easy to sum up – vampire BL with explicit scenes. I mention those few words and most people will have a fairly good grasp of what to expect and whether they might like it or not. (I personally hesitated a long time before reading it, because this is actually NOT something that's right up my alley. Turned out to also be good though.)

For The Witch Door, I can't seem to find an easily digestible handful of descriptive words like that. I feel like it is very much the sum of all of its intricate details, and it doesn't fit any simple bill. So I'll resort to reviewing my favourite bits about it…

It has great characters

Seriously, all of them are well thought out and engaging, not a single dull person among them. I love all of them so much that I have actually put ALL of them in my fanfiction (except for the Lintukoto people as they belong to the main canon storyline, which I'm not touching on). That includes Ulriikka, the fluffiest plot device ever.

Tangential to that: it has great representation

There's young people. Old people. Thin people. Fat people. Light-skinned people. Dark-skinned people. Live people. Dead people. Bird people. Ummm… a cat who is definitely also people. And other assorted… humanoids? And oh, sexualities for every letter of the alphabet!

The worldbuilding is intriguing

I'd roughly call the setting "urban fantasy", but that could mean so many things really. In a world much like the one we know, there are witches with differing magical abilities, some powerful, some almost mundane, but most importantly there is this one simple, cool thing that opens up so many possibilities, and that is the concept of the Witch Door: each witch has a special door that can lead to any other witch's special door. So even though our protagonists live in Turku, we have already spent an afternoon in New York and one in Kyoto, without anybody breaking a sweat.

… but it's also kinda slice-of-life

I really love the way that protagonist Katariina – non-magical, bog-standard human who works as a nurse – accidentally stumbles onto her neighbour's secret (he's a witch with a witch door), but her life's still lifing, so it's not all just magical discoveries and fun and games from then on. More like her world gets expanded, but that also means that on top of her own, mundane everyday problems she now learns about things happening in the magical community that are possibly even more concerning, and even less actionable. Katariina deals with all those new experiences with curiosity, wonder, compassion, delight, and occasionally overwhelm, and she feels so real for that.

It's about friendships

The more I think about it, that might be what I love most about the comic. We meet a whole bunch of people and all the relationships and interactions are just gold. At the heart of it, there's a lot of people caring about other people in quiet, everyday ways. Everyone is allowed to have their own struggles, and people are so supportive of each other. And there's also snark and banter, delicious!

I nearly forgot: It also has villains!

I do feel I've managed to avoid spoilers in all my rambling here, so I won't say too much about the antagonists. Just this: they exist, they are still a bit of a delightful mystery (we're in chapter 12 as I am writing this), and I fully believe they are just as complex and well thought out as all the other characters. I love to hate them.

Conclusion

If I've managed to pique your interest, why not take a look at the 6 page prologue? And then take the plunge into a completely different kind of mystery with chapter 1 🙃 where we're introduced to both of our protagonists separately, and then to the magic of the fluffy plot device.

Or, if you're unsure about whether reading this comic will bring joy to you and you don't want to just take the plunge and check it out (which I can relate to!), feel free to ask me questions about it!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: june 2023

as promised (to myself) I spent all of gay months reading books by and/or about the gays, no exceptions! (unless you count the heaps of old Batman comics I was reading, but come on. it's all pretty fruity.) the trend will be continuing into July as well because I overshot and still have book I need to finish, so in the immortal words of Janelle Monáe: happy pride forever!

anyway, what have I actually been reading?

Empress of Forever (Max Gladstone, 2019) - man, I've been meaning to read this FOREVER! and I'm glad I finally did. Gladstone's space opera follows ultrawealthy tech genius Vivian Liao, a sort of dykey Lex Luthor who's CERTAIN that she's the good guy. okay, yes, she's trying to get control of the nukes, but she's not going to use them. it's just that the world's a mess and she needs to be in charge. unfortunately our girl Vivian doesn't get far in her master plan before she's transported across the galaxy and finds herself on the run from the all-powerful Empress in the company of a cybernetic monk named Hong and the legendary space pirate Zanj, the Empress' greatest enemy. from there our heroes are off on a slow, messy quest across the galaxy as they make new friends, grow as people, and strive to bring the Empress down. it's a very long book and can feel slow in places, but all of the time devoted to fleshing out the characters ultimately pays off as their stories converge into a resonant narrative about the notion of identity and what it means to be yourself. if you like Becky Chambers' Wayfarer books of the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, get on this shit.

also hey listen Max Gladstone is having a bit of a Moment rn; the book he coauthored with Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War, is getting a huge boost thanks to the Trigun (????) fandom??? over on Twitter, and you should definitely go check it out

Not Gay: Sex Between Straight White Men (Jane Ward, 2016) - Ward is a brilliant queer feminist writer; rigorous and insightful while keeping her work imminently readable. while the title may sound facetious, Ward actually takes entirely at face value that there are men having sex with each other an engaging in otherwise homoerotic activities - mutual jerkoffs, hazing rituals that involve anal penetration - that sincerely aren't stemming from a place of gay desire and asks us what the fuck we're supposed to make of that. what results is a fascinating look at masculinity and the intricate rituals that both subvert and maintain it. shockingly thought provoking for a book that contains so many transcribed craigslist posts of men looking for straight guys to have totally normal hetero dudesex with!

The Latinos of Asia: How Filipinos Break the Rules of Race (Anthony Christian Ocampo, 2016) - I was lucky enough to get to see Ocampo (who is gay) speaking at the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity this year, and naturally I had to buy one of his books while I was there. I strongly suspect he's about to become one of my new favorite nonfiction writers, because the Latinos of Asia was a brilliant read that I really couldn't put down. Ocampo (who's also Filipino!) delves into the formation of Filipino-Americans' racial identity, and finds that many feel caught between the most conventionally accepted racial categories - feeling alienated from the idea of Asian identity, which is often perceived as pertaining to East Asians like Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans, and instead relating much more firmly to Mexican-Americans and other Latinos. it's a FASCINATING study on race and one (of many!) loopholes that exists in this very large, messy, totally made up construct of race.

A Lady for a Duke (Alexis Hall, 2022) - for my pride month romance novel I wanted to read something that I might actually like. I've previously adored Hall's genre-fucking ultra-queer Sherlock Holmes pastiche, the Affair of the Mysterious Letter, and Lady for a Duke was really well-reviewed, so my hopes were high! and you know what? I fucking loved this. it was like cotton candy, perfectly sweet and made to be inhaled without a second thought. Our Heroine Viola was the heir to an estate who faked her death at Waterloo so that she could run away and be herself - that's right baby, this is a 19th century trans lady romance! she reconnects with her old BFF the Duke of Gracewood, who's been catatonically depressed since losing his best friend in the war, and reader, you will not believe what happens next. just kidding, you totally will: they want to kiss each other so bad! they're yearning so bad and it's great. it's a very silly book and Gracewood is the most unexpectedly forward-thinking 19th century duke EVER who is instantly down to accept Viola entirely as a woman and thinks that having biological children is overrated, and you know what? that rules. I'm not reading this book for historical accuracy I'm reading it to watch a man beg his girlfriend to fuck him tenderly in the ass. and she does!!! if I'm being honest everything after they finally hook up is kind of nonsense and the book probably is too long, but god it's a delightful time.

Chlorine (Jade Song, 2023) - back in the days of twitter I started following Jade Song as soon as they announced selling this book, the story of a competitive high school swimmer succumbing to obsession as she fantasizes about becoming a mermaid. finally getting to pick up the book from the library and actually read it felt crazy after existing in potentia for so long! while Song's novel is a little rough in some places in exactly the way I expect from a debut, it's still gripping and visceral. our protagonist lives in an intense and demanding world, striving to please an overly handsy coach, wanting to please the immigrant parents she can barely speak to, stumbling through sex with boys on her team while longing for her female best friend. through it all she fixates on mermaids, and the story is told in flashbacks building up to a drastic act of self-mutilation at a swim meet. it's definitely not the right book for the faint of heart or anyone looking for feel-good fluff, but it's harrowing in the best way.

Vagabonds! (Eloghosa Osunde, 2022) - gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous! Osunde celebrates queer life - those called vagabonds, society's outliers - in Lagos, Nigeria, slipping between the real world of social stigma, oppressive religion, judgmental family, and dangerous politics, and the world of magic, gods, and the unreal, blending the two together in an effortlessly dizzying effect. the ultrawealthy hide behind layers of flawless masks to conceal their identities, a lonely woman dying of cancer summons up a daughter than only she can see, and a young man channels the devil to raise his murdered lover. while the stories start bleak, firmly establishing the danger of life on the margins, they gather speed with increasing warmth and love as the story progresses, eventually bringing all of our protagonists together in glorious, life-affirming celebration of vagabonds and all who love them. Nigeria, in Osunde's hands, reads much like family - imperfect, sometimes even awful, but also capable of harboring tremendous love, surprising tenderness, and still worth holding out hope for. I think measuring books in terms of relatability is a fool's game, but as an American queer watching more and more legislation and persecution roll out against my people each day, it was hard not to feel a cord being struck. Vagabonds! is a beautiful reminder that queer resilience is eternal, and reader, I did cry.

Quietly Hostile (Samantha Irby, 2023) - I was a ride or die bitch for Sam Irby even before she picked up and moved to my small Michigan city, effectively becoming my neighbor. (not really, but she is married to the mother of a friend of a friend, so.) despite this, I will freely admit that I was a little underwhelmed by her last release, 2020's Wow, No Thank You. it's possible that WNTY was damned by its March 2020 release, putting it in the awkward position of being a humorous essay collection creeping out into the world at a time when everyone was paranoid and nothing was funny; maybe on a reread I would receive it a bit more warmly. Quietly Hostile, on the other hand, is just stupid funny right out of the gate. Sam Irby is old (see: in her early 40s) and going downhill, writing candidly about peeing her pants everywhere, adopting a rancid little dog, getting sent to the hospital with a severe allergic reaction, and jacking off to plot-heavy porn of elderly lesbian nuns. it takes a little bit of work to get me to actually laugh out loud at a book but man, I was chortling. if you don't already know her work, this is a sign from god (me) to check Samantha Irby out now.

what am I reading now?

Black Water Sister (Zen Cho, 2021) - the was one of the oldest queer novels(TM) on my list and I really wanted to knock it out for pride month. the Malaysian setting and culture is a welcome addition to contemporary urban fantasy, but I'm not sure I'm crazy about the story overall. and yet, I'm over 200 pages deep and don't want to give up, so ? I guess I'm persisting.

Giovanni's Room (James Baldwin, 1956) - my local library lost their copy just in time for pride month, so I bought one on ebay for all of nine dollars. haven't started yet, but I'm really excited to finally pop that proverbial Baldwin cherry!

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Top 10 Choices books

This time, I actually managed to rank my favorite books. But don't expect this to happen again 😅

1. The Crown & The Flame: fierce female MC who's not only a queen but also a warrior, male MC that turns into a dragon, intricate adventure with lots of action, great characters (including LIs, side characters and villains) and didn't even need CG art to make the story compelling. Oh, how I miss PB's early years...

2. Ride or Die: I expected the worst from a book which MC is a nerdy teen getting involved with illegal car dealers and car races, but PB went there and made me eat my words. The outstanding plot, the amazing LIs and side characters, actual character development for MC and a beautiful open ending. All of that in one single book? Damn, PB ❤️

3. Hero: I'm not of big fan of super heroes stories, but this one has my heart with its interesting LIs and friends to MC, engaging plot and a villain that looks like he stepped out of Spiderman universe to enter Choicesverse.

4. Bloodbound: even though the two last chapters were absolutely traumatizing (and I will NEVER forgive what the writing team did to Jax and Lily), Bloodbound lore is really engaging, has some great action scenes, most likely the best NSFW scenes and wonderful LIs.

5. Perfect Match: I genuinely thought it was just a romance book. I was so wrong! PM has adventure, sci-fi, drama, comedy and gorgeous LIs. I love it!

6. The Heist Monaco: Smart and cunning MC, interesting and gorgeous LIs, awesome adventure/action/comedy plot and great side characters with some of the best group scenes.

7. It Lives Beneath: best horror book PB has ever written with choices that can drastically affect the ending. Plus, Tom is romanceable 😍

8. A Courtesan of Rome: because it's based on Ancient Roman History (and I love History), the storyline has some inconsistencies that bugged me sometimes, but MC is so awesome, and the LIs were so good that it was hard to choose and I nearly forgot Cassius wasn't this sweet, intellectual and idealistic guy the book makes him look like lol.

9. Mother of The Year: another book PB made me eat my words. I love a book with a fierce MC, wonderful LIs and a daughter so adorable and smart that even this millennial terrified of having kids was all heart eyes in the very first chapter;

10. High School Story: did I expect to be so invested in a story about a teenager having cheesy teenager problems during high school? No. But I was so freaking invested on this drama-free teen trilogy I was pissed when I found out the fourth book was actually a new story without my beloved MC and their hilarious dad and the original HSS LIs had very little relevance to the plot (But I forgive the writing team because of Skye ❤️)

Honorable mentions:

- Distant Shores: Pirate book, time travel and a heartbreaking ending. What's not to like?

- Blades of Light and Shadow: I have to admit I like the plot more than its characters, but also like playing with as an orc (even though the storyline didn't do justice to Orc MC on book one)

- Crimes of Passion: even tho I haven't finished playing it, I looooove a good mystery/thriller/horror book, it's great to play as an adult MC who's actually good at what they do and it's the only single LI book I played in which the LI is worth all the hype;

- Guinevere: also haven't finished playing it, but I love a good period book with a good dose of fantasy. Plus, Arthur is the sweetest;

- Desire & Decorum: NGL after book one, there were so many filler scenes on books two and three, but I was* too madly in love with my Ottoman Prince and liked 90% of the characters to give up on the story ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

*"was..." I said, as if Hamid doesn't live in my mind rent free since 2018... 😏

Tagging @choicesfandomappreciation

[viilpstick]

the twisted ending: The tension is undeniable, and perhaps it's not solely because of the games. Concern lingers on both sides, especially as a revelation unfolds, exposing one of the underlying truths.

warnings: Oc x canon, trauma, blood, cursing (a lot), Adeline's dad, literally so much happening i am sorry, if I forgot any-

genre: Angst, drama, suspense to fluff (WAR IS OVER)

a/n: THIS IS LONG. REALLY LONG. Also, I love grammarly, I've been improving my writing thanks to it :3 (dividers by @/cafekitsune)

"Malleus?" Adeline arched her blonde eyebrow, behind her dark green cloak with the darker roses partners in it. The ambient tranquility signaling the culmination of yet another day.

However, Adeline appeared to be immune to the call of slumber, her wakefulness mirrored by Malleus, who stood in close proximity. In a tender display, Malleus reached out and clasped Adeline's hand, treating it with the gentleness that bespoke his inherent grace.

"My dear," Planting a soft kiss on her cool knuckles, he addressed her with endearment. The nocturnal air seemed to carry with it a whisper of secrets, weaving a mysterious tapestry around the duo, who stood intertwined in the waning twilight. "Were you lingering outdoors earlier?" Shallowing the dry Adeline denies it with her head. Everything but him finding out what she was doing outside. "Adeline, were you at the West Wing?"

A gasp left her lips, as she puts her cold hands in her mouth, she was in the hallways, if anyone heard her and were to check out it would be hard to explain.

"Outrageous!" Exclaimed Adeline quietly, but loud enough for him to hear it. "Are you putting me as this type of hypocrite?" Malleus shakes his head, but he doubted his own partner words. "Good." She whispers again. "Go back to bed, Mal. I will be doing the same."

Before she could turn away from him, Malleus looked into her eyes grasping her arm.

"Adeline." The way he said it made the blonde shiver, as she knew what he was about to say. "What will you do with Isabelle?" He asks seriously.

Adeline used her magical powers to suspend Isabelle, who was unconscious, in mid-air when she tried to access the forbidden West Wing. This highlighted the risks of seeking forbidden knowledge and the challenges that come with it. Isabelle's inability to move on her own showed the strong barriers that protected the secrets guarded by magic and mystery.

"I..." Adeline takes a deep breath. "I will solve this morning. Make sure to pray for the Sevens, that who I have in mind is her true love's kiss."

Pulling her arm away, without too much to say she walked away from Malleus without further words. When he was nowhere close or seen, Adeline felt warm tears falling on her porcelain cold face.

"Shit..." Adeline curses cleaning the tears away, leaning into Isabelle's door for the minimum support for her weak heart aching in her chest. "I am sorry, Mal. I can't let you know..."

The soft glow emanating from Poppy's room cast a warm ambiance, refusing to yield to the encroaching darkness outside.

Among the topics swirling in the conversational eddy was the imminent disclosure of Adriano and Adeline's familial connection—an intricate tapestry of shared blood and history that had remained veiled in the folds of time.

The group gathered and settled into a circle, their collective energy vibrating with a sense of anticipation as they prepared to engage in a profound discussion. As the group delved into the intricacies of this revelation, the room became a crucible for the exchange of emotions, perspectives, and the delicate dance of intertwined destinies.

"So," Daria commenced, gently shutting her book, "we may reasonably agree that their lineage traces back to the paternal side. Adeline has shared with us the details of her mother's death, revealing that her father, in turn, formed another family connection."

"Precisely." Lucie says with a nod followed by a hum.

In the midst of the girls' animated discussion, Audette couldn't help but discern a quietness enveloping Poppy. Breaking from the conversational flow, Audette turned her attention to her younger one.

"My dear, is everything alright?" Audette inquired, her voice carrying a blend of confusion and genuine worry. "You seem quieter than usual."

Her gaze, a mix of curiosity and worry, searched for any response Poppy's demeanor. Soon the attention turned to Poppy who pulled out the hood of her pajama's.

"Isabelle was supposed to be here." Poppy turns to her friends moving away from the window.

The silence went back as all thought of possibilities to why Isabelle hasn't show up. Specially after Poppy told them all early that day it was urgent.

"Maybe she has fallen sleep without even noticing? You've seen how tired she looked... Specially after that show Leona gave us during lunch." Daria crossed her arms at the memory from the evening.

Following the conclusion after the game. The convivial atmosphere, Leona and Isabelle found themselves engaged in a discreet fight, a conversation that gradually piqued the interest of those present. The discussion became an unintentional loudly, casting intrigued faces across the room.

However, the angry teens were abruptly interrupted by the unfiltered candor of Adeline. With a mischievous twinkle in her pink eyes, she playfully addressed the duo, breaking the tension with a touch of humor, "Well, if the urge to kiss each other is becoming too big. I must tell you both, perhaps it's best to seek a bit of privacy." Her unabashed comment, a collective burst of laughter from the onlookers, making both Leona and Isabelle sit down in embarrassment. Without Adeline's timely intervention, the conversation between Leona and Isabelle might have continued the debate through the whole day.

"I hope so..." Poppy sits again by the window with worry taking care of her whole joyful and sweet aura.

All the four girls stand up getting closer to Poppy trying to reassure the girl that nothing has happened. Poppy eyes squeeze as she looks over the west wing, Yuu, a red haired, a cat and blue haired following Adriano. Everyone in the room had their eyes winded.

"Fuck." Lucie whispers.

With a sudden flurry of movement, everyone in the room hastily descended the stairs, drawing Adeline's attention at the far end of the corridor.

Adriano had a cape teared up. He looks over the quartet with disgust. "You are not to tell me where I go!" The girls arrive with plain confusion in their eyes. As Adeline stays on the covered side of the building.

"I don't need you to tell me anything! Can you not see? Rosique has been lying to you all! West Wing is not dangerous. Why not tell them, Adeline, the truth?!"

"Mélombre, stop." Adeline steps forward the group.

His boisterous laughter reverberated through the entire building, sending chills down Grim's spine as he instinctively sought refuge behind Yuu.

"Why should I? It is because I am going to expose who you are Adeline Rosique Enchanta?" A heavy silence descended upon the room in the wake of the revelation, leaving everyone in a state of profound shock.

"Enchanta? Like the... The King and Queen from West? The kingdom who attacked their queen after... The King, Grendel Enchanta accused her of his doings?" Deuce whispers in surprise after the revelation.

"You are the daughter of the... King and Queen of Westerian Beau?"

Adeline, instead of shivering from cold, trembles with fear as an unsettling sense of dread takes hold.

"I am sorry... I just didn't thought it was important to reveal-"

"-She kept this away from you all in this West wing. This is where all the story is hidden! Why not tell them that the King ran away with you to a cottage because you were ugly, huh? Isn't that right Adeline?!" Adeline seems lost, just like an abandoned puppy.

Fury etches itself across Adeline's countenance as she vehemently closes her fists, the tension in her body palpable. The room bears witness to the intensity of her anger, the air thick with the weight of unspoken emotions.

"At least I had an excuse. Unlike you, who claimed he was closest to you! He never truly knew you! You were useless, Adriano! You were never enough for him!"

Unbeknownst to her, the magical pen held by Adriano begins to betray its own distress, drops of ink falling quietly to the ground like the ominous drips of an impending storm. He laughs again, loud, more annoyed, more scary... As ink takes care of his embodiment.

"Yes... He wasn't there. I was not enough to him after all."

Realizing the impact of her own words, Adeline hastily covers her mouth with one hand, as if attempting to physically restrain the words that had escaped. In a desperate attempt to undo the damage, she extends her other hand toward Adriano, a gesture pleading for pause.

"Wait, Adriano, I didn't-" she starts, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air like a plea for mercy, as the weight of the words already spoken lingers between them, fraught with the potential to reshape their relationship.

"CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THIS PAIN?!"

The enraged overblot, a tempest of anger and intensity, directed its attention towards Adeline, who defiantly stepped forward to face the tumultuous force. In the charged atmosphere, a palpable tension hung in the air, like a storm about to unleash its fury. He contemplated Adeline with his howling madness.

"I AM GOING TO TEAR YOU ALL APART!!"

As the looming overblot monster materialized before them, each member of the group swiftly drew their magic pens and wands. In the face of this formidable foe, it was evident that now was the opportune moment to unleash the mystical power inherent in these enchanted tools. A hand in another's hand, hoping to stand against the unhinged form of Adriano.

"Adriano…" She whispers, a sense of remorse weighing heavy on her. In the hushed admission, she acknowledges her role in causing the current turmoil. Yet, in this realization, a newfound determination emerges—she must be the one to stop him now.

"ANSWER ME ADELINE!"

He attacks her strongly enough to make her fall into the floor.

"ADELINE!" As the tension escalates, Poppy dashes forward, attempting to reach Adeline, who has been forcefully thrown to the ground. However, Yuu intervenes, holding her back with a strength that reflects an understanding of the danger at hand. Despite Poppy's inherent resilience, she recognizes the severity of the situation and refrains from endangering herself further.

In the midst of the arcane confrontation, Adeline's once-whispered plea resonates like an echo in the charged air. The battle against the formidable overblot monster rages on, and each member of the group brandishes their magic pens and wands, the mystical instruments now radiant with a luminous energy ready to be unleashed. The battle's intensity spills into the awakening hours, the once-quiet residence now a battleground for magical forces and emotional turmoil.

"Of course, I understand you... Adriano, I was left because I was ugly. My own father, thought I was ugly! But, beauty is found within, Adriano."

Adriano looked over Adeline, with disgust, yet he didn't had a clue of how to react. Somehow, though, he had seemed to ease down at her words, with ink tears streaming down.

"Please, Adriano. Is okay to not be perfect, Grendel himself wasn't perfect... He wanted us to be, what he wasn't."

"I-" His voice, once steady, now faltered and broke, the weight of emotions bearing down on him.

A tremor passed through his hands, his gaze widening as he stared at them in disbelief. The vulnerability etched across his face spoke volumes, a silent testimony to the inner turmoil that had seized him.

"I SUMMON THEE CAULDRON!!"

"DEUCE! NO!"

Adeline attempted to intervene, yet the cauldron collided with Adriano, causing him to falter and crumple to the floor in pain, the ink vanishing from his pen.

"I… I always considered myself a mama's boy. Especially because I've never met my dad. I envisioned this perfect, flawless scenario, eagerly anticipating the day he would come and complete our family—just the three of us, my mom, him, and me."

A young Adriano, barely reaching the keys of the house piano, showcased an impressive display of skill. Despite his tender age, his fingers danced gracefully across the keys, creating a melody that resonated within the walls of the home. The rich tones and intricate notes he produced were a testament to a talent that belied his years.

In response to his performance, a heartfelt clap of pride rang out from his mother. The sound echoed through the room, a manifestation of the deep sense of joy and admiration she felt for her musically gifted child. The proud applause lingered in the air, a harmonious backdrop to the musical journey that the young Adriano was just beginning to embark upon. This simple yet profound moment encapsulated the essence of a mother's love, expressed through the applause that celebrated not just the music, but the budding talent and joy of her beloved son. Young Adriano smiled at his mom.

"Growing up, I would often wonder about him. What he was like, where he might be, and if he ever thought about us. It felt like an incomplete puzzle, with a missing piece that I couldn't find."

"Mom?"

A towering figure stood stoically at the entrance, a commanding presence that demanded attention. Meanwhile, a woman, perhaps overcome by a momentary fatigue or a need for support, clung to the doorframe. Her form leaned into the sturdy frame, finding solace and stability in its embrace. They weren't having a heartfelt talk. They were arguing.

"You left your daughter with no one else! You left your wife to be killed by her own kingdom! You left me and your son!" She pointed her finger at him in disgust. "Who else are you going to leave, Grendel?!"

In the midst of the conflict, Grendel fought back with a determination fueled by his own set of reasons—motivations known only to him. Despite the turmoil, he extended a hand toward his son's head, a gesture that carried a blend of authority and paternal concern.

With a steady voice, he posed a question to his son, seeking an understanding of the circumstances that led to the confrontation: "So, son, what do you have to show me?"

On that day, Adriano bared his soul, revealing everything he could muster in a heartfelt effort to make his father proud. Every ounce of talent, determination, and dedication flowed through his actions, a testament to his unwavering desire to earn his father's approval.

"But, I wasn't able to make him stay. I wasn't enough to make him stay. He would eventually come back... To hear me playing piano. Nothing else."

"I wanted him to see me more than anything else..."

"I needed him to see me..."

"But, I was never enough. I will never be enough!"

He weakly raises his head, looking up to Adeline and the rest of the students around and on the windows watching. "I am sorry... I am so sorry. I just wanted, him to see me..." He whispers as he cries in fear for of his own self.

In a tender and compassionate gesture, Adeline knelt down and enveloped Adriano in a comforting embrace. The air, heavy with the emotional aftermath, crackled with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Meanwhile, Crowley, Ambrose, Yuu, Grim, Deuce, and Ace turned their attention towards the duo, their faces reflecting a worry sight.

As the questioning glances were exchanged, Adeline, cradling Adriano in her arms, sought to provide solace and support in the aftermath of the emotional storm. Meanwhile, the inquisitive gazes of Crowley, Ambrose, and the others hung in the air, prompting a silent exchange of information.

The shattered pain of years began to mend, replaced by a newfound bond that promised resilience, unity, and the strength to face the challenges that lay ahead, finally found a shared sanctuary of understanding and healing.

Today, was enough of an adventure. The silence and touch of Adeline, let everything very clear. She forgives him...

Adriano was taken to nursery, meanwhile Malleus comforts Adeline, hugging her with a full hug, protecting her. Adeline clears her tears turning to face everyone, as the storm has come away slowly from Rosantée.

"I think is my turn to apologize. I lied for you all, West wing isn't dangerous. It just contained my cruel past. I was scared of any of you all find out. I finally had gained you all trust and I was able to ruin it." She lowers her head. "I am terribly sorry."

Poppy takes a step forward before running and hugging her vice housewander. She cries loudly in her friend's shoulder.

"Adeline..." Poppy whines in pain. That was too much for her to process, the other girls step up two. With a reassuring smile. Forgiven, perhaps even forgotten.

"Miss Rosique, in respect of both you and Adriano. We will be trying to find Grendel and he will face all the possible charges." Ambrose says, with Crowley confirm the headmage's words on his side.

Adeline smiles hugging tightly Poppy. "Thank you, headmages..." She puts Poppy on the floor. "But, is my turn to fix this mess." The long sigh left her lips pulling her magical pen. "Appearances May Deceive."

Applying her unique magic into it the west wing had shining sparkles surrounding it. Exploding into the golden and normal comforting aura of Rosantée. Roses grew on the sides of the tower, and with a smile Adeline turns to everyone.

"West Wing is free to be explored." Everyone cheered in happiness. "Tomorrow, right now. Is bed, you all have work to do." They all sigh in sadness. Making the vice housewander giggle awhile her boyfriend smiled at her.

As the morning light graced the room, Isabelle lay gracefully in the princess's bed, clutching a delicate rose gifted to her by Fauna. The vibrant bloom exuded an air of romance, prompting Daria's inquisitive gaze as she arched an eyebrow in her friend's direction.

"Why the rose?" Daria queried, her curiosity evident in the subtle lift of her brow.

With a contemplative expression, Fauna responded, her words laced with a hint of playfulness, "Well, you know… If he is the one who can awaken her, I may as well try to make him fall in love with her again." A soft, tender look accompanied Fauna's words as she absentmindedly scratched the back of her neck.

Daria couldn't help but respond with a gentle giggle, amused by Fauna's hopeful notion. The duo, carrying the shared secret of Fauna's romantic endeavor, left the room, their laughter echoing in the morning air. The rose, a silent messenger of Fauna's heartwarming intentions.

Entering the room after both girls left, Adeline brings out Leona. Adeline, with her trademark strong and confident demeanor, fixed her gaze upon Isabelle, silently communicating a mixture of support and encouragement, hoping and knowing she is right. Beside her, Leona, surprising those who knew him for his fierce exterior, wore a surprisingly soft expression. The beastman's eyes lingered on his arranged fiancée, silently observing with a depth of emotion that transcended words. While Leona refrained from vocalizing his thoughts, the yearning hope in his eyes betrayed a silent wish—that he, rather than Neige, might be the one to unlock Isabelle's heart.

Isabelle, reclined in the princess's bed, presented a vision of elegance. Her hair, free-flowing and unconfined, framed her features delicately. Adorned in a yellow nightgown, she clutched the red rose gifted by Fauna, a poignant symbol of the romantic aspirations that danced within the room. As Isabelle was placed in bed with a grace befitting royalty, the atmosphere held a delicate tension, a moment pregnant with the possibility of unveiling the true love that could awaken her. The scene unfolded like a tableau, each character playing a role in the unfolding drama of affection and destiny.

"So?" Leona asks as the blonde hums raising her eyebrow towards him. "Have you call little prince white as snow over, already?"

A resounding burst of laughter erupted from Adeline, catching Leona's attention and causing his eyes to widen in curiosity. He furrowed his brow slightly, perplexed by the sudden outburst. The silence that followed hung in the air, leaving a palpable sense of intrigue as Leona scanned the room for any clues or explanations.

"Oh no, dear..." She cleans the corner of her eyes that were slightly teary. "It might sound even crazy from what I am about to say... But, he is not the one." Adeline could sense the tension building up in Leona, but, she would let it slide. "One day or another you would kiss her, Kingscholar. So..."

She inclined her head, signaling for him to take over. With a sense of quiet reverence, he obediently knelt beside Isabelle. As Adeline silently exited the room, the atmosphere shifted, leaving only the hushed presence of the two figures.

With a tender touch, he pressed his lips gently against the peaceful slumber of Isabelle. The moment, framed by the serenity of sleep, carried an unspoken tenderness—a kiss bestowed in the quietude of the room. The delicate act spoke volumes, echoing the nuances of care and affection that transcended the waking world.

Adeline's departure marked the passing of the torch, leaving him to complete the silent ritual with a gentle kiss, sealing a moment that lingered on the precipice of dreams and reality. In that tranquil interlude, the room held the promise of dreams woven with whispers of unspoken feelings and a quiet connection that transcended the confines of wakefulness.

Entering the infirmary, she was met with the bow of the nurse, who respectfully left the room, granting them the privacy needed for an intimate conversation. The door closed softly behind the departing figure, leaving the two of them alone in the hushed confines of the medical chamber.

"How are you today, Adriano?" Asks Adeline, sitting on the side of his hospital bed.

"Feeling better. How was today's game?"

"Hmm, let's see, from where I start?" As she shared the story in a joking manner, the room transformed into a space of shared mirth, where the weight of serious matters momentarily lifted. Their laughter resonated, creating a bond woven from the threads of shared experiences and a mutual appreciation for the lighter side of life.

Ultimately, Adeline and Adriano were not deceitful individuals or remotely close to being considered as bad people. Instead, they were akin to broken pieces of glass within the intricate mosaic of life—a stained glass adorned with fractures and imperfections. The trials they faced, the wounds they bore, and the challenges that shaped them were the cracks and fractures that defined their individual journeys.

moots' taglist :: @mhedusard @midnightmah07 @justm3di0cr3 @shinysparklesapphires @lowcallyfruity @cecilebutcher I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANY COPY, TRANSLATION OR REPOST OF MY WORK IN ANY OTHER MEDIA | ©viilpstick 2024

[rpgchoices]

Sometimes I really want to read a short summary of what to expect from a game… and thankfully people can also submit their summaries of games they played and help me (and others) find games that cater to their interests!

submitted by @lairofsentinel

(click here for other videogames)

what to expect from Return of the Obra Dinn

Game from the same creator of “Papers, Please”. This alone speaks a lot in my opinion: we are expecting an unconventional and interesting game despite their visual.

This is an adventure, puzzle game which doesn’t have puzzles in the sense of contraptions or codes or following patterns. The “puzzle” is to reconstruct the story of what happened in the ship by using logic and deductions.

Despite looking like a difficult game, its core is basic deduction that we use every day, making assumptions, testing them, and remaking new ones if they were incorrect. For this I highly recommend it even for those who always are afraid of puzzle/detective games.

The story starts with an empty ship that drifts into the port of Falmouth with damaged sails and no visible crew.

You play as an insurance investigator who has been dispatched immediately to Falmouth, and has to make an assessment of the damages it suffered, this implies to understand what events happened on the ship, how many people were there, how they died, and their names.

The only tools you have is a book with some drawings of the crew, a list of the crew, a map of the ship, and a magical pocket-watch that allows you to see the last minutes of a corpse. This will provide us images, dialogues, and situations that will give us small bits of information to determine who is who and how they died. 

I highly recommend this game even for those who are not much into mystery games, because the skills used in this game are not the typical intricate and sometimes artificial tricks you need to “see” to solve puzzles. Most of the clues are given by noticing accents, listening dialogues, making assumptions that come from these bits, and observations of situations frozen in time.

The story of the travel of this ship since it sailed until the last crew member was alive starts simple but unfolds beautifully, trapping you in the mystery that is slowly built up with dialogues and the progression of death scenes.

The journal that the game gives you is beautifully organised and really useful for your deductions. The game truly provides all what you need to work on this at your own pace.

The mechanics are simple, the story is epic and surprising [you are not going to get bored trying to figure it out what happened] and the mystery keeps building up all along the game until the last moment, where the last pages of the journal are available, and you can discover a last, final secret. 

Wonderful music, excellent voice acting, and unique visual style that work all together, providing a pleasing environment to play and keep engaged. 

The only two small cons that sometimes I found out is that because the lack of detail in the images due to its style, sometimes it’s a bit complicated to understand the cause of death of a character. But the game is quite forgiving on that matter [for example, you may assume different ways to describe a death that are similar and all of them are correct for the game]. The other con is that you lose some clues if you are not too good to spot accents in the dialogues. However, it’s not impossible since I’m completely unable to determine English accents and I didn’t feel it was a terrible barrier to play this game.

As a warning, it’s a game about deaths, so it’s a bit morbid, violent, and graphical at times, but I would not qualify it as “gore”. I suppose this is the reason why the game has picked this art style: it helps a lot to reduce the roughness of the death situations you will see. Even though it’s explicit, it’s not detailed. 

——- Plot? ——-

In 1802, the merchant ship Obra Dinn set out from London for the Orient with over 200 tons of trade goods. Six months later it hadn't met its rendezvous point at the Cape of Good Hope and was declared lost at sea. In 1807, the Obra Dinn returns, drifting to the port Falmouth with damaged sails and no visible crew. As  an insurance investigator, you need to board the abandoned ship and determine what happened with its crew. 

——- Gameplay? ——- 

You walks around the ship, exploring, seeking corpses/skeleonts over which you activate the pocket-watch, and see the memory of the last minutes of that person. Sometimes, inside these memories, you can find new corpses that the pocket-watch will allow you to explore. These second corpses will appear like holograms in the real ship later. This allows an easy access to revisit some deaths.

——- Characters? ——- 

60 crew members that you need to name and discover.

 ——- LGBT? ——-

None.

——- Sadness level? ——- 

There is some sadness since this is a story about deaths, but the mystery overrides any sentiment. You just want to know what happened.

——- Happy ending? Deaths? ——-

The game ends when you discover all what can be discovered, and a new secret is available. It’s not happy nor sad, since as I said before, it’s a story about death and how rough life can be on a ship. Some deaths are tragic events, others are product of human greed, but the game hooks you so much with the mystery, that there is no much space for sadness even though it’s truly a tragic story. The ending is satisfying because everything ends up fitting adequately. 

[katyspersonal]

Sometimes I just can't shake the feeling that "the curse of Mico simps mysteriously vanishing" I half-jokingly mentioned earlier is simply a reflection of the issue of Bloodborne fandom both being small(ish) and having many very talented artists.

Out of all fandoms I've been at, Bloodborne is the one where literally nothing is easier than to see extremely skilled artists banging out masterpieces every week and feel kinda.. talentless? Mediocre and not wanted, even, especially if you have a simple or cute/silly art style. The only ways to combat this dread is to get on the good side of "cool popular kids" that distribute majority of likes/reblogs, or to find your own supportive group of friends. With Mico fans it just is harder because for some reason the fanbase of this character has always been kinda disorganized, and he himself tends to attract people with very sensitive, intricate souls hahah. Thinking back on Mico fans that mysteriously vanished from the fandom like goddamn magic that I used to know, they all had severe self-confidence issues...? AND no network of "the same two supportive mutuals". Maybe that's why so many of them just deactivated or never posted again? Maybe feeling "small" as artists was too much?

Again, not only this character, but the example I am most familiar with because unlike other characters, this one fails to create a "core" if you know what I mean? But THE funniest thing? Situation with art in the fandom reflects how Fromsofts games feel themselves...? The sense of being overwhelmed by something much bigger and stronger than you, feeling your self-confidence crashed and wondering how THE fuck are you supposed to overcome this? This is the other side of being in the community full of a little TOO talented people, really. It just can be easy to feel like you are worse than others and not wanted.

Basically, I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you feel like your skill and talent are lower than everyone else's - treat it like being kinda not very good at soulsborne games as a player, and if you feel like you just can't join a group or create your own to get enough engagement and validation - treat it like not being able to online coop for help! How would you continue playing in this situation? Right, you would study the game, keep trying new tools and practice on your own terms and at your own pace! If you feel this kind of dread, do the same: experiment with the style, designs, characters, ideas and so on until you feel so engaged and satisfied that you just can't quit. Until it becomes almost like addiction and finishing your art ideas becomes what keeps you here. Before I've found the same five people that always like my art I've also been feeling like I just don't belong and my art is worse than that of "actually" talented artists here. So I've kept looking for something within my art itself and discovered a passion: both for drawing characters in the way that captures every single detail (no matter how much it torments me lol) and for depicting absurd amount of references for characters in every single state of their life! This is what helped me to not feel so bad about what art skills I lack, this keeps me engaged even if I stop getting notes and compliments at all, this is what makes how good other people's art is irrelevant because it is about my goalposts now, and I am sure other people who don't feel confident can find their own ""playing style"" but in creativity that'll make it fun!

Just don't quit, okay? Like... no matter how much you may feel that "everyone else is more talented or more supported or both", I promise you can find the way. Just like how you didn't understand how to beat these games at first but adapted in the end. EVERYTHING Soulsborne goes back to a theme of having to overcome a really hard challenge, right? Creativity too, and our self-confidence is under constant testing which I honestly do not recall being the case in my previous fandoms??

[findroleplay]

SEEKING …

plots set in various historical eras. here are some plots i’m looking for in particular;

- mythological fantasy with world-building

- a group of vigilante thieves of various cultural backgrounds stealing cultural monuments and treasures from museums, personal collections, etc and redistributing them to their respective locations of origin. delving into the themes of decolonization, cultural reconnection and such.

- plot set in a speakeasy in the 1920s exploring crime, queer identities (considering its location will be in new york’s historical gay village…), and individual characters’ backgrounds. if you reach out for this, ask for the overview of the plot.

- a murder mystery among an eccentric group of university students in connecticut in the 1980s. dark academia with a touch of political intrigue. (very much & shamelessly inspired by the secret history, we’ll just make it better !)

RULES & PREFS

1. ocs only. although i appreciate knowing about pre-made characters, i would really appreciate if the ocs we use for these plots are made specifically for them, and not old ocs being put into a random setting.

2. 18+

3. talking ooc + being communicative

4. adv. lit, preferably.

CHARACTERS

i require characters that come across as authentic, human, and individuals with real agency. i’m not fond of characters that are excessively naive or perfect. i find great delight in characters that are distinctive, unconventional, and resonate with specific interests, evolving in step with the narrative. given that i am a person of colour, my characters frequently are too. if you're not inclined to explore a range of diverse cultural backgrounds and settings, it's likely that we won’t make a good match.

GENRE & SETTING

i love slice of life, historical realism, and social realism. period pieces captivate me, regardless of the era. i’m particularly fond of plots that explore characters and themes in depth. as for tone, i enjoy humour with dark, realistic elements. i absolutely adore discussing head-canons, scenarios, and themes, as well as create pinterest boards and playlists for our characters. furthermore, if you share an enthusiasm for research and immersing yourself in settings and their themes, we'll get along very well.

OOC

tbh, connecting outside of the rp holds greater importance to me than any other aspect. if there's a lack of enthusiasm or engagement, or if we only interact during plotting, our compatibility is likely to be compromised. establishing a friendship with my partners ensures my sustained interest in the rp.

COMMUNICATION

i thrive alongside enthusiastic writers who bring decisiveness and a strong passion for the rp. collaboratively shaping ideas and themes before and during our discussion sessions is crucial. i do not mind getting to know each other before plotting. connecting beforehand allows ideas to organically flourish, ensuring an enjoyable story for us both!

PAIRINGS

i handle all character pairings with a focus on agency. i embrace a diverse array of dynamics, from tranquil domesticity to toxic relationships. my roleplays often prioritize a variety of relationships, veering away from solely heteronormative ones. crafting intricate dynamics involving characters of different backgrounds and sexualities is my niche. trans and non-binary characters are wholeheartedly welcome, if not preferred.

mlm & wlw: my expertise lies here.

hetero: i am selective with this pairing.

INTERESTED ?

i know this sounds like a lot, but if this speaks out to you, feel free to reach out (i don’t bite…) or leave a note/leave your discord username and i will reach out !