#the second snippet..... im thinking. im considering.

[bropunzeling]

Mattdrai 47.

Brady/Quinn. 18.

a kiss as encouragement

"Quinn! Quinn!"

"What?"

Brady waves him over to the lawn, away from where Jack and Trevor and Cole are arguing over who gets to start off. It's shirts and skins; Brady's on the skins team, glowing in the early evening sun. Sometimes Quinn remembers him as he was back in Michigan -- tall, gawky, outgrowing everyone and everything as he shot towards six feet and higher.

Sometimes, though, he gets reminded that neither of them are teenagers anymore. That Brady's been solid for years now.

"Quinn." Quinn flushes, jerking his eyes up to Brady's face. He's been pretty good about not staring, but they all had a few beers before Jack and Trevor decided soccer in the yard sounded like a great pre-dinner activity. His mind is running a little slower than usual. He can't be expected to keep it together all the time.

In any case, it doesn't matter. If Brady noticed, he doesn't mention it. "Aren't you going to play?"

Quinn shakes his head. "I'm grilling, remember?"

Brady grins. With one hand, he reaches out, flicks Quinn on the nose. Quinn jumps. "So responsible," Brady says.

"Just making sure we don't starve," Quinn mumbles. It's not like any of them are great cooks. "Is that all you called me over for?"

Brady's grin gets wider. His eyes crinkle. Looking at him hurts, like staring down the sun. Too bright. Quinn does it anyway. "Well, if you're not playing, I'll need your luck."

"What," Quinn says flatly, pulling away.

Brady's too fast, though, one hand snaking out to grab Quinn's shoulder. "C'mon," he says, cheeks pink, still with that broad smile. "Wish me luck. Gotta beat Jack and Trevor."

"No," Quinn says, rolling his eyes.

"Quinn." Brady tugs him closer. All of him is warm. Too warm. Quinn will burn up just by being near him. "Don't you want me to win?"

Maybe it's the heat and the beers, making him woozy; maybe it's the sun, dropping low in the sky, burnishing Brady's skin. Maybe it's Brady's hand, holding Quinn in place, keeping him close. Quinn has any number of excuses for popping up on his toes and brushing his lips over Brady's cheek, the corner of his mouth. None of them explain the way his heart thuds in his ribcage at his own daring.

"There," Quinn says when he pulls away. He licks his lips. "For luck."

Slowly, Brady blinks at him. When he smiles again, it's smaller. Almost a secret. "Alright," he says. "For luck."

a kiss out of spite

Leon knows he's looking too long. He doesn't have an excuse. Not the drinks, which started flowing as soon as the skills competition ended and haven't stopped since then; not the ebb and flow of bodies in the bar as people came and went, making him light-headed. Leon's been drunk before; Leon's spent plenty of time in crowded rooms. None of that explains why he can't look away from Matthew Tkachuk holding court, grinning and cracking jokes, right in his element.

Stuart doesn't say anything, but he's a kid. Connor doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. Connor thinks he knows all about Leon and Matthew.

Matthew laughs, obvious even over the noise of the bar. It rasps against Leon's spine. He clenches his glass harder.

Connor glances at him sidelong. "Ease up, Drai."

Instead, Leon drains his glass and drops it on the tabletop, not bothering to say anything before heading off towards the bathrooms. Connor doesn't know shit.

In the bathroom, Leon splashes his face with some water, fixes his hair. He looks hungover. He is hungover. Spending a week third-wheeling before showing up at the circus will do that. He wishes he looked better than he felt.

Matthew looked great. Matthew looked -- fucking fantastic. Leon had noticed that in November, how good Florida looked on him. Happy as a clam in his shorts and short sleeves and stupid slides. Carefree, careless. Nothing weighing him down.

Leon runs the sink again, splashes his cheeks again. His beard drips. He doesn't care. He should head back to the hotel.

The bathroom door bangs open, and speak of the devil. Matthew steps inside, looks at the urinal, the stall, the sink. At Leon, staring at him.

"So this is where you ended up," Matthew says. It's nonsensical, but then again, Leon's never pretended to understand all the thoughts careening around in Matthew's head.

Leon grunts, which is rude, but he doesn't care. Grabs a paper towel and dries his hands.

"So," Matthew says. He stands casually, almost relaxed, but there's an edge to his posture. "You gonna go back out there and spend the whole night looking at me like you hate me?"

Leon presses his lips together. "I don't -- whatever," he grits out.

"Sure. I believe it." Matthew isn't fidgeting, but only just.

"You know --" Leon's not sure how he's going to end that sentence. That it's unfair of Matthew to want everyone and anyone to like him. That he has no right to go barging after Leon after he's been the center of fucking attention the whole fucking weekend. That saying no hard feelings? in November doesn't mean hard feelings won't appear. Not when Matthew made it eminently clear that Leon, like everything else about his life in Calgary, was something to be left behind.

Matthew's eyes flick to Leon's mouth.

It's been a while since Leon's kissed anyone like this, sharp and mean and with too much teeth. Even towards the end of things he was gentler with it. With Matthew.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, he bites down on Matthew's lip, gets one hand tight around his bicep and another against the back of his neck. His nails must be cutting into Matthew's skin. He can taste blood.

After a moment, Leon steps back. He's breathing hard. As he watches, Matthew licks his lips. Looks at his face.

"Come on," Matthew says, and Leon is viciously pleased that his voice shakes. "Is that the best you got?"

[tonydaddingham]

this is going to be the speediest speculation you have ever seen in your life because it is gone 3am and im losing my mind BUT. this little snippet? from rob wilkins? well i think - i think - i found what he was referring to.

in the frame behind the bentley and aziraphale, it's clearly flooded. we know the set was built within a studio, so elemental factors can't be at play here - this is deliberate. and noone seems to notice it, but it's very neatly framed between the two.

now, let's consider references to flooding re: second coming. well, matthew was a bullseye:

"as it was in the days of noah", there will be a flood that arrives when the second coming does. it will be there before anyone knew it, and swept them away. ergo, i think we can assume that the second coming has in fact already happened (still think it's greasy but whatever)

but also look at the splitting of humanity; sound familiar to the final fifteen? one will be taken, and the other left? marrying and giving in marriage - failed in our boys' case 💀 but did nina set a timeline, saying "one day", when she's ready to be with maggie?

also - people eating and drinking? sounds familiar also, when you consider how ham they went on pushing the vol-au-vents, the tiny dinners (thanks jim) on people at the ball.

im not okay.

[infiniteetcetera]

I serve the ACOTAR fandom with a defense of Feysand, just not the one you’d expect…

One of the weirdest takes I’ve seen recently is the “Tamlin is actually the better guy so Feyre was better off with him.” Now listen, i’m not a Tamlin hater. Im also not a “Rhys has never done anything wrong and is perfect” type of fan. But this stance is simply so so wrong to me. Despite the flaws of all these characters I think one thing that is very consistent and just factually real in this series is that Tamlin and Feyre were wrong together and her and Rhys (even if you don’t like them together) make much more sense.

Tamlin and Rhys are foils of each other in a lot of ways and both go through a similar journey where their narratives flips in our protagonists view. The reality is, Tamlin has always had red flags and anger issues and been very paranoid and self righteous and Rhys has always been very secretive, manipulative, and controlling. He and all his friends tell Feyre this themselves. There’s textual evidence for both these takes in all the books of the series and despite claims that “Tamlin wasn’t himself in ACOMAF” or “Rhys wasn’t himself in ACOSF” I think if you’re actually paying close attention these two are written very consistently the whole series, flaws and all. They have many similar qualities that make sense from their similar backgrounds and positions in society. But there are differences too, and those differences are key in why Feyre chooses Rhys.

The first big thing is loyalty. Tamlin is loyal to his sense of morality and what he believes is right. Rhys is loyal to the people he considers his family, even above what is right. The two perfect examples of this are their separate paths in ACOTAR and their relationship with friends. Amarantha sexually pursues both Tamlin and Rhysand. They both have terrible histories with her that would make being in her presence awful, but Tamlin refuses to engage with her at all and his people suffer the consequences of it. IM NOT SAYING TAMLIN SHOULD HAVE EVER HAD TO DO ANYTHING WITH AMARANTHA miss ma’am is an irredeemable creep and we all know this, but this is the reality of Tamlin’s circumstances and choices, which directly parallel how Rhysand gave up his bodily autonomy and suffers for decades all because the extra bit of magic Amarantha lets him have is enough to keep his family hidden and safe. Even after all that, when Rhys has nightmares about UTM it’s not about what she did to him, it’s about Amarantha getting her hands on Cassian or Azriel. That’s what Rhys fears more than his lands being taken over or him literally being a sex slave, he doesn’t want his family hurt.

Regarding the second point, Feyre meets Tamlins Spring Court friends and simply doesn’t get along with any of them except Lucien. And Lucien, the one close friend Tamlin has, is constantly mistreated by him and canonically afraid of him. This is not just something new in ACOMAF, it’s sprinkled throughout ACOTAR too that Lucien is willing to contradict and argue with Tamlin because he’s Lucien but when Tamlin says what’s done is done it’s done. Meanwhile, we get snippets throughout the series of Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all directly laughing in the face of Rhys’ orders and straight up arguing with him as an equal. Even when Rhys does pull rank (happens maybe twice the whole series?) none of his friends are ever shown to be even slightly scared of him. It’s usually a combination of respect and guilt that keeps them in line.

I know that sounded like a Rhys defense blurb but it’s really not. If you value loyalty (which Feyre does) then yes, Rhys sounds better than Tamlin. But it should be noted Rhys is willing to do terrible awful gross things and cross villainous lines that Tamlin just won’t, and there’s value and honor in that too. I think this is best exemplified by a conversation Feyre has with Tamlin in ACOTAR about the war. Tamlin mentions he was so young he had to side with his family, but if he were old/powerful enough he would have fought for the humans no matter what because it’s just the right thing. Feyre our human narrator thinks it’s noble but says she wouldn’t do the same. Feyre’s first priority would be her family, even if keeping them safe meant not doing the right thing or doing something terrible like not fighting against slavery. THIS IS WHO FEYRE IS AND ITS ALSO WHO RHYS IS. It’s laid out for us so early it’s still a shock to me everytime someone claims something was suddenly changed in ACOMAF.

The next big thing for me here is going to sound simple but it’s personality. The few times Feyre sympathizes most with Tamlin and relates to him is when he’s discussing his flaws. When he mentions being called a wild beast she recalls how Nesta called her the same. She relates to Tamlin in being loved “thorns and all” and overall the thing these two bond over is this idea of being wild, untamed, and unrefined but that’s not who Feyre is, it’s who’s she had to be to survive. Feyre did not enjoy hunting, her dream was always to stop hunting and just paint and live an easy quiet life. Tamlin does have other interests, but overall the wild/hunter/violent part of him is predominant enough that he still clings onto it even though it does not benefit him. While on the surface these two seem to have things in common, Feyre’s shared traits with Tamlin are things she was forced into and doesn’t always like about herself.

Rhys on the other hand, these two are actually so incredibly alike. They have the exact same sense of humor (there are literally dozens of examples of this). They both value loyalty and protecting their family above all, even if it means being controlling, overbearing, and morally wrong. They both value being able to fight and take care of themselves because it’s necessary, but even this feeds into an I’ll do it myself mentality.

I’m going to get controversial here in saying this but I would argue even Rhys keeping the pregnancy thing from Feyre is something Feyre would 100% do in his position. That’s why she forgives him. Not because he’s got her manipulated or mind controlled to hell, but because it’s WHAT SHE’D DO TOO. Rhys wasn’t hiding it from her to force her to give birth or anything, he didn’t want her to worry and take on any burden. He wanted to control the situation and take care of her himself. That doesn’t make it right, but for someone who sees the world as he does (Feyre) it makes sense. There’s literally countless times throughout the story Feyre lies, sneaks off, and just generally hides thing from Tamlin, Rhys, and others. She goes to see the Suriel in secret during the war despite knowing Rhys would have let her go if she told him because she doesn’t want him involved and putting himself at risk. Her decisions are on a lesser scale than Rhys’ decisions, but that’s because she’s had less power than Rhys for most of the series. At her core though, Feyre’s morality and instincts are a lot like his. They are mates for a reason and honestly out of all of SJMs series, the pair of mates that make the most sense to the core of the term (except maybe Rowaelin)

Overall, I understand people have issues with this couple and with Rhysand that are valid (I can and will fight the Feyre haters though) but anyone who argues Feyre was better with Tamlin is just factually wrong and I think it’s a misunderstanding of her character and a weirdly infantilizing/patronizing take to make it seem like Rhys is manipulating Feyre all the time and she’s just too silly goofy to see it. We know for sure he is not manipulating her with his powers all the time (despite what the evil Rhys truthers think). Feyre might be younger and less experienced than Rhys but I promise you all she is not stupid. She knows what she’s doing with this man and has a lot more culpability in their relationship than people think. If that means you don’t like Feyre then I guess so be it (be wrong🙄) but I would say despite Rhys’ many flaws (and I do think there are a lot and a lot of people are valid in not liking him) him not loving Feyre and manipulating her is not one of them. He may still lie and keep secrets from her from time to time but this is something he confesses to her he struggled with in the past and would continue to struggle with in their relationship. Feyre knows this. She knows who Rhys is at his core even if some readers don’t and she loves him not because she thinks he’s flawless but because she understands his flaws and values his virtues over them. They’re still learning to work as a couple and pushing past the obstacles together, they’re both still healing from immense trauma the haunts them . Again they are not perfect, but they are definitely the most functional ACOTAR pairing we’ve seen so far and work not because they’re both heroes/good guys but because they’re both willing to be bad or good when the need calls for it.

[emry-stars-art]

Hi, i just want to stop by to tell you how much I love your art and even more your Royal au

I hope this is in no way an offence but I found this post https://www.tumblr.com/gatorparade/721685064988131328 and immediately thought of you and His Highness Prince Andrew.

I wondered if on a walk Andrew stopped to freshen up and Abram, in keeping watch, found himself observing him from afar and what thoughts he might have, not so much at the Prince’s splendid figure but how much he manages to convey a calmness to him that he never had, a kind of serenity that radiates, that he can read in Andrew’s eyes when they finally meet.

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't inspire you, I love everything you post regardless, you cannot know how much your blog brightens my days ✨

Okay im FINALLY HERE

I wish I could have done this more justice but this is what I got, I love the idea of Nathaniel/Abram first seeing the little bits of humanity and vulnerability (only the barest bits but it’s much more than the Moriyamas ever gave) from Prince Andrew and like. It jumpstarts the idea that Palmetto is really and truly different than Evermore or something TT

anyway the linked post [here] is first off gorgeous (it’s an oc if I remember, pls go give the artist some love if you can we appreciate ocs in this house) and second I LOVED THE VISION. Im sliding a little writing snippet under the cut so thank you for the ask :DD

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

The prince said he just wanted to acclimate Nathaniel. His short, matter-of-fact way of speaking was still unfamiliar - he sounded as if he was being transparent, but Nathaniel knew better than to take royalty at their word.

It wasn’t as if he had the choice to refuse.

He accompanied the prince on his ride of the outer courtyard. There wasn’t much for Nathaniel to do; unfortunate, because he couldn’t distract himself with real work. The prince was bringing him deep into the untamed grounds, through thick trees and bushes. Secluded and private. Still, Nathaniel said nothing.

After countless minutes of what should have been easy silence, they reached a creek. The prince guided his horse to a stop and considered something, lost in thought until Nathaniel had dismounted and approached. It took more effort than normal to remove his glove.

Nathaniel’s hand moving into his space seemed to jog the prince. He blinked, took a heavier breath, and held a little too tightly as he always did to slide from the saddle.

Despite Nathaniel’s every anxiety, he brushed right by without a word. Nathaniel watched dumbly as the prince shook his hair free of its tie, combing it out and kneeling at the creek bed. He splashed his face with water and ran some over his scalp to combat the midday heat.

He didn’t seem to be watching his back. He wasn’t hesitant or afraid for Nathaniel to see him in a state like this. Easy, casual. Even now Nathaniel was playing the possibilities in his head. All the ways the prince could be harmed in that moment. How easy it was for Nathaniel to see it and know the royal family wasn’t as infallible and godlike as they claimed.

But, then - the Minyards had never claimed godhood. Though the water made the prince’s hair sparkle.

Prince Andrew didn’t think himself as far above Nathaniel as Nathaniel had assumed.

The prince straightened then, turning a look on Nathaniel as he retied his hair.

“You seem rather heat stressed,” he said flatly. “Are you certain you don’t need some water?”

Nathaniel was certainly stressed. Just maybe not from the heat. He hesitated before gesturing aimlessly with the reins he held, one horse in each hand. He’d gotten too distracted to tie them anywhere.

The prince met him at his own horse’s head, taking both reins without a word.

“Go,” he said. Nathaniel forced his mouth closed when he found he couldn’t speak, and the prince gave him another unimpressed look. “That’s an order, Nathaniel.”

So Nathaniel let go and stepped back, still hesitant to let the prince hold his horse when it should only have ever been the other way around. But the prince had already turned his attention to GS, stroking the white blaze of his nose with as blank an expression as ever. Nathaniel wondered briefly if the prince’s face ever changed as he went to obey.

(Also thank you for your other kind asks AM, I cherish them and you 🥰)

[dayurno]

oooo dr dayurno that kevjean snippet was verrry exciting

Can I ask what ur current wips are 👀

YEAH so its a bit of a mess right now but wiktt last chapter has already been drafted so its done and finished and coming out tomorrow which leaves me with, in no particular order,

1 - kandreil android fucking

2 - redacted infidelity au

3 - maids

4 - raven jeremy possibly? (new)

5 - second son’s self saving system

i’m considering joining the t&n fest also because last time i couldnt and i love all the mods but we’ll see if there’s anything fun in the prompts section 🤞 i also started writing a very light & sticky & fluffy kevjean fic just for fun really because all my current wips have a degree of Seriousness to them but idk if thats ever seeing the light of day. we’ll see…..!! i havent been able to work on many of these because my body Keeps Score and ive been sickly for months (hah) but im doing marginally better now i think so im excited to get back into my groove ⚔️

[redactedgender]

there’s a honey

ao3 link here

(15k words)

some tags: Porn with some plot ; Switching ; Flirting ; Awkwardness ; we love an enby who uses gendered language in genderfucky ways ; guy and his inability to stfu /pos ; No beta we die like xavier ; yall have met crow already. let me introduce you to sage ; Overuse of italics ; so many italics

its finally here! my 15k word guy/honey smut :] today is also (what i consider) my one year redacted listening anniversary. this series has meant a lot to me during the past year, and im very happy to have found out abt it when i did.

so, here's a fic that i hadn't originally planned on posting for my one year, but hey, guess now's as good a time as any to post it!

a reminder: this fic is 18+/NSFW.

a snippet under the cut

They hated to admit it, but kissing Guy was very quickly becoming their favorite thing to do. Not that they would ever admit that to him, of course. They had an image to maintain. But in their mind, they could think about kissing their boyfriend all they wanted. The quick pecks in the morning before he rushed off to work, the slow kisses they would share while he cooked dinner (because despite working almost every day in a pizza place making pizzas for sometimes ten hours or more in a single day, Guy liked cooking for the two of them), the multiple pecks across their face as he tried to distract them from something, mostly their work. There was something about Guy that made them act like�� this . Like some kind of punch-drunk teeanger experiencing their first real relationship. Butterflies in their stomach, face constantly flushed anytime they looked at him, feeling flustered when he would say their name, all of the stuff that they had never experienced before. Guy surely was giving them the real “boyfriend experience” that they had only read about in high school. Speaking of their boyfriend— Sage looked up from their phone at the sound of the bell ringing out as the door into Max’s Rustic Pizza opened, and rolled their eyes at Guy’s frazzled grin and wide-eyed stare at his partner. Sage was leaning against the hood of their car, headphones on and blasting music, though it had been turned off and the headphones had been moved to hang around Sage’s neck. Guy looked them up and down, eyebrows wiggling enticingly, and Sage made a disgusted little noise they didn’t mean, which only made Guy laugh. Like Sage wasn’t just wearing jeans and a hoodie. He was ridiculous sometimes. “Hey there, hot stuff!” Guy called out, leering closer to his partner and arching an eyebrow. “Who are you waiting for, huh? Certainly someone as hot as you managed to bag someone as equally hot, right? I just know they’ve gotta be charming and handsome, and extremely funny, too!” He grinned, and Sage elbowed him in the arm, not hard, but sharp enough to make him recoil back and hold his arm. “Ow! I was complimenting you, what’d you do that for?” “Never call me ‘hot stuff’ again, first of all,” they retorted, adjusting their position against their car and tugging their hoodie around their shoulders tighter as a sharp wind tore through the air. Even though it was April and most of the days were getting warmer and warmer, the occasional chilly day still popped up, and today was one of them. “Second of all, I’m waiting for you , so I can go back to the apartment and finally play Zelda since you wanted to watch me play it instead of playing it yourself.” “Aww, c’mon, honey,” Guy crooned, resting one hand on the hood of the car and leaning his hip against it, tilting his head to peer at them with his (really fucking pretty, goddamn this fucking guy—) hazel eyes. “You know why I like watching you play it—you get so into the game, it’s adorable!” “It’s adorable when I’m screaming ‘fuck’ at the Lynels for killing me for the fifth time in a row? Or that one time I got so angry when I fell off a cliff and clipped through the world and lost all my gear that I had to go into my room before I punched our TV?” They deadpanned, eyebrow raised in question, and Guy nodded and grinned, biting his bottom lip like he was trying (and failing) to contain his excitement.  “Mhm!” He brought his other hand to scratch at his head, a habit he had. “I mean, you’re just so good at the game, so it’s hardly fair for me to even play it! It’s much better as a viewing experience anyway, especially with my head in your lap. I mean, the only way it would be an even better viewing experience would maybe include me on my knees. Or maybe with my head between your—” Sage slapped Guy’s arm again, ignoring the way their face felt flushed at what their boyfriend was insinuating. “Not in public, you—!”

continue reading here!

[thegreatyin]

26 27 30 36... Scoundrel and Scientist. Also gimme the cufflink saga already.

IM STILL PIECING THE SNIPPETS TOGETHER IM SORRY I KNOW IVE TAUNTED YALL WITH ALLUSIONS TO IT FOR AGES JDFHDHDJDK

26 - What would be their ideal romance? Did they find a perfect match already, is it still a work in progress, or have they experienced something out of their expectations?

The Scoundrel's ideal partner would probably be someone willing to put up with her... everything. Either because they don't care, or because they indulge her to her heart's content. Someone able to back up her wildest dreams (or even fulfill them) while still being there at the end of the day to kiss her head and tell her it's all going to turn out okay.

She thinks this someone is Wines. It is not Wines.

The Scientist's ideal partner... is a lot more broad, and also simultaneously a bit more narrow.

See, he's fine with just about anyone, theoretically. All he wants is someone he can live for, and work to protect. He doesn't even care if he gets the same in return. Ideally someone patient, and clever, and maybe a little bit terrifying- someone he can trust completely and utterly-

But he doesn't really care about any of that. He just wants someone he can get along with. Someone he can almost feel safe around. He doesn't care about anything else.

-

27 - What is their romance’s theme song?

The Hatsune Miku cover of Poison. And Butcher Vanity.

...oh, you meant general romance, not together. That's, admittedly trickier.

And by "trickier" I mean "I'm stumped". I have absolutely no idea. I've never thought about it before. Consider this an open invitation for y'all to come in and suggest romance songs, because I'm kind of at a loss rn

-

30 - What is their love language?

The Scoundrel gives gifts. A lot of gifts. If you've actually, sincerely, unironically, somehow, against every odd in the universe, thoroughly captivated them, you'd get absolutely smothered in more gifts than anyone could hope to count. Extravagant ones, too.

Like.

They're the kind of person who thinks a comically expensive romantic dinner at the most exclusive restaurant in the country is "modest". They're the kind of person who'd send you hourly updates on how their day is going because they think you genuinely unironically need to know this pressing information because you love them and they love you back. They're the kind of person who spends hours trying and failing to win a giant stuffed animal at a carnival because you said it looked cute and they want to impress and pamper you.

They're the kind of person who spends half of their fortune supplying Mr Wines' revels because they think they're getting such an insanely good grade in flirting and serving and being such a good sexy appealing lover for their stupid horrible drunken crush that won't even give them a second glance-

I mean. Uh. Ahem. Clears throat.

Gift-giving. They like gift-giving.

The Scientist on the other hand- he's pretty squarely split between acts of service and quality time. I don't compare him to a cat for nothing. He's either actively being "useful" to people, or he's sitting with them in silence for 2 hours straight while they do an unrelated task in the same general vicinity.

He considers the latter to be fantastic socializing.

-

36 - What would they gift to their partner or their best friends to show their affection?

See the Scoundrel's aforementioned answer about giant stuffed animals and supplying revels. But also flower bundles. And honey. And bundled flowers dipped in honey. They feel like the type to gift what they like because they're under the impression that their favorite things are universal favorite things.

As for the Scientist... he's admittedly not the best at sending gifts, but he certainly tries? His gifts are way more humble. Way more small. Like the results of an interesting experiment, or a cool puzzle he thought up, or a handmade scrapbook that's not exactly good insomuch as it is unbelievably sincere. Tiny nerdy trinkets that won't mean much to an onlooker, but end up being super soft and sentimental to those in the know.

Also, I could see him knitting a bunch of stuff. Little winter hats, scarves, gloves, the works. It's sweet. He's sweet.

[morningstarrook]

Thoughts on the Wisdom Saga

This had been stuck in the drafts for a while, but since the release day for the Vengeance Saga dropped recently, I decided to finally buckle down and finish this. I had initially listened to this saga on release but, as can be clearly seen now, Ive been kinda putting off writing down my thoughts. But no more! Ive listened to the entire saga a second time, and now want to share my thoughts on it.

I’ll put it under the read more because I know I have a lot to say so, I won’t waste anymore time on it.

Song 26 - Legendary

A lovely introduction to this next saga, I must say. I adore the upbeat instrumentals, and I think they work well with introducing Telemachus. In my view, they help kind of push this idea that Telemachus has this naïve sense of being considered a legend, and that he doesn’t yet fully understand the struggles and battles he’d have to face that would come with going down the path of being a hero. And it makes sense, considering it seems like he’s been shut in his room/home for his entire life for his safety, I just find the first half of this song really sweet, and a nice set up of Telemachus’ character, especially when we meet the suitors and, primarily, Anitonius. And can I say, Ayron really put his whole chest into that “BOY” cause DAMN-

All in all, while I don’t have much to say about this song in general, I do like it quite a lot! I’ll give a solid 8/10 :)

Song 27 - Little Wolf

MMM BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE CHAT, been waiting for this one specifically for a while. I honestly love the video game imagery used during the live, first and foremost. Secondly, ANITONIUS’ VOICE ???? To get back on track, this is probably the main song I was waiting patiently for and safe to say, I was not disappointed. No thoughts, head empty, just Little Wolf playing on repeat fr

Adore it, no further comments, 10/10

Song 28 - We’ll be fine

I won’t lie, listening to this song for the first time, it caught my eye immediately. And listening to it on repeat after that only served to enhance my love for this song.

The vocals were exceptional and the imagery that accompanied the song even more so. Even if it’s the shortest song in the saga, it just. It’s so good! The best way I can describe it as a sweet little intermission that helped to transition from Little Wolf and Love in Paradise, and the characterization too !!!!! Omg, Athena admitting to seeing Odysseus as a friend and admitting to the fact things could have turned out differently, and all for the better?? Telemachus seeing her a friend immediately?? Athena Ody friendship in general???

Im very charmed by this song, and it has definitely earned its place on my favorite song list overall. I give this song a 10/10

Song 29 - Love in Paradise

Honestly, while Love in Paradise is not a song I listen to on repeat, I can admit I love it dearly, and for lack of a better word, seeing different perspectives for this song and all the dark possibilities that could’ve happened between the 7 years Ody was trapped have been certainly some food for thought. The full showcase of the Time Dive was absolutely stunning, Wangui nailed it with voicing Calypso, and just. I can’t really find any other way to put it instead of just this song was super well done!

All in all? I can appreciate this song for what it is! I’ll give it a solid 7/10

Song 30 - God Games

FINALLY I have been waiting for this song’s release since first hearing the snippet like, years ago? And how was it like hearing the full song? I wasn’t really disappointed!

I always knew that with there being so many gods to go through and many different song sections for each of them, some sections were going to be much shorter than the others. And safe to say, I was proven right in that. But for what we did get, this song was just a banger!

AND THE ENDING???!!?! I SAW THE FINAL PART OF THE ANIMATIC IN THE LIVE AND I FINALLY UNDERSTOOF WHAT THE COMMENTS WERE GETTING AT OMG ATHENA???? Jorge when I CATCH YOU JORGE The plot armor better save her cause her actually armor ain’t gonna do shit! I am not lying when I say I actually shed tears watching that for the first time cause I was just? so?? Flabbergasted?? In the best way ofc :]

God Games is, for lack of a better word, great. I love it, it met my expectations, and the ending of the livestream animatic left me a changed person, I can say that for sure. I give God Games an appreciative 9/10!

Im happy to finally get this out of the drafts, and will be sitting very patiently waiting for the Vengeance Saga to drop (here’s to hoping I can make it to the live but I have my doubts I’ll actually be able to tune in for the entirety of it).

[sugdenlovesdingle]

So here's my *actual* seven sentence sunday

@carlos-in-glasses @nancys-braids @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad

it's a little snippet of a Marjan/Nancy fic I'm working on for @captain-gillian (I hope you don't mind me sharing a little preview of your fic!) for @911actions Gaza fundraiser - check out the page to see how you can donate too!

---

"Work is good. We have a new probie actually." Marjan said, holding up her phone at eye level to talk to her sister. "This girl fresh out the academy. She's eager to learn but kind of reckless ."

"Sounds like someone else I know." Sahar joked. "I'm guessing you and her get on well."

Marjan laughed. She was sitting on her bed in the firehouse bunkroom, waiting out the last part of her shift, hoping no call would come in.

"She's a good kid." she settled on. "What's happening over there?"

"Malik and I just bought a house. With three extra bedrooms."

"Really? I didn't know you were looking."

"Yeah... This place is becoming too small for us."

"Why do I feel like you're only telling me half a story?"

Sahar laughed.

"I never could hide anything from you." she stood up and walked to a mirror, putting a hand on her stomach and showing Marjan her reflection. "It's early days but Malik thinks you can tell already." She turned to give Marjan a view of her profile.

"Wait. Are you pregnant?"

"Yes!" Sahar beamed. "About 12 weeks now. Don't tell mom and dad. They don't know yet. Only you and Malik's sister."

"I won't tell anyone." Marjan promised, pushing the thought that she barely spoke to her parents these days to the back of her mind.

"When we've moved into the new house, you need to come visit." Sahar insisted. "And you can bring Nancy too so we can finally meet her for real."

"I'd like that." she and Nancy were going on 8 months together and so far she'd only introduced her to Sahar via facetime. She was pretty sure her parents would be happy for them, but actually introducing Nancy as her girlfriend to them still scared her.

"I have to go now. We're getting the keys for the new house today." Sahar snapped her out of her thoughts. "We'll talk soon ok? Tell Nancy I said hi."

"Will do. Bye." Marjan said and ended the call and let herself fall backwards on the bed. Nancy made her happy, things were going great between them, and even the awkwardness with Mateo had been resolved, but outside of her work friends, nobody knew about them. She wasn't even sure if the B shift crew knew they were a couple.

She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to get her brain to turn off. Either that or give her the answers she'd been looking for.

"Are you sleeping on the job?" the mattress dipped and an arm slipped around her waist as someone squeezed in beside her. She opened her eyes and looked into Nancy's smiling face. "We're you at least dreaming about me?"

"Always." Marjan vowed and tugged on her girlfriend's uniform until she leaned down to kiss her.

---

I won't annoy you all with a second set of tags so just consider this an open tag for YOU if you have anything you want to share

[lonelychicago]

wip wednesday! 📜🎥

thanks for the tags, loves! @panbuckley @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @messyhairdiaz @shortsighted-owl @transbuck @transboybuckley @spotsandsocks @thosetwofirefighters @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @prince-buck-diaz 💗

ofc this is for my author buck! actor eddie! au, bc it's the only thing on my mind. i think im close to finishing it and i might post very soon!!!

until then, have another moodboard and a snippet!

"And? What do you think of it so far? Is it mediocre at best or what?" Buck tries to come off as teasing and joking but Eddie can see the insecurity and the fear of rejection simmering underneath. 

Eddie stops and with him, Buck does as well. They're facing each other and Eddie feels a little overwhelmed by how much he feels for this man. "Buck— It's one of the best things I've ever read. You've outdone yourself with this one." 

A big, huge toothy smile spreads over Buck's face, lightning him from inside. "You're serious? You're not just saying that?" 

"I'm not just saying that." Eddie shakes his head and reaches out, one of his hands coming to rest on Buck's shoulder, his thumb caressing his pulse point and feeling Buck's heartbeat underneath his fingertip. "I feel honored that you're letting me read it so early on and I just— I really love the book. Like, I'm exhausted because I've barely slept but I don't regret staying up reading it and I wouldn't go back and make a different decision. It is that good. It's better than I can ever express." Eddie swallows hard. "It's a privilege that I will never take for granted that I get to bring Gabriel's character to life. I mean it." 

"Eddie," Buck is smiling so big and so bright and he's looking at Eddie like he's the creator of the universe, like he hung the sun, the moon and the stars in the sky. "Thank you. Thank you." He says and pulls Eddie into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around his waist and his head briefly burying itself against Eddie's neck. 

It lasts too little, it's not even nearly enough. Eddie has barely hugged Buck back when the man is already pulling away. 

The small silver lining is that his hands are still holding him close, his fingers resting against his waist in a way that makes Eddie lit from within, makes him feel a slow fire start to burn through his veins. 

"Thank you," Buck whispers and Eddie realizes how close they really are. His treacherous eyes flickering down and falling to Buck's eyes for the briefest of seconds and then gazing back up. 

"You don't have to thank me." He tries to smile but he feels off kilter, shaky, teetering on the edge of a preciple. He feels like he's about to break and Buck's hands are the only thing keeping him glued together. "I'm just telling the truth." 

They stay there, so close and almost locked in this little bubble, until Chimney yells at them. 

"Hey, lovebirds! This is a work environment, I'm calling HR!" Chimney is speaking so loud that they get the attention of most of the crew. 

Buck looks like he wants to kill his brother-in-law, as he steps away from Eddie, his hands falling to his sides and leaving him feeling cold when they used to rest. 

"Eddie, you need to go to make-up and get ready for shooting! C'mon!" 

"Chimney we got it, stop screaming!" Buck screams even louder. 

idk who to tag bc im posting this later than usual, so anyone else who wants to share something, consider this your tag!!!

[magicalrocketships]

👀F1 bits and pieces doc... i could go for a bit or a piece if im being honest 😊are there any snippets from that that you want to share?

Welllll one of the bits it's got in there is a failed fic for Em's birthday, which was a sequel to this ficlet about 1950s Monaco private detective Max and Daniel the sort of freeloading gigalo who imprints on him. I couldn't get it to work in the time I had available, so it's just hanging out by itself for a while. Have a couple of bits and pieces as I tried various ways in:

&&&

"I'll keep watch," Daniel says, hopping over a bit more rope someone's just left lying around. There's way too much rope around considering how dark it is. Someone could fall over. "Then you can get on with the, you know, detectiving."

"I do not need anyone to keep watch," Max says, "and if you think about turning that flashlight on for one second, I am going to push you into the sea."

"Lights are helpful," Daniel says. 

"Lights are stupid," Max says. "They will say like nothing else that somebody is breaking in to an expensive yacht to look for clues."

[some stuff happens]

"Fine, if you promise to touch nothing, and not turn that stupid torch on, you can come with me."

"Good," Daniel says, miming zipping his mouth shut. None of the parties or clubs or house parties he's gone to or the beds he's charmed his way in to over the past few years have been as fun as following Max Verstappen: Private Detective around Monaco these past few days. It feels like someone's lit a fuse inside of him. It's exciting. 

What's less exciting is watching Max open drawers and flick through papers and make notes in his notebook by the light of the moon. 

"How can you even see," Daniel complains. "It's dark."

"Night vision," Max says. 

&&&

Max does not like women. He has never liked them. Not like that. He likes men. 

His father found him once, with a picture postcard he'd stolen from an unsavoury safe house they'd holed up for the night in. 

Max had learnt more than one lesson that night. First, his dad would never again have the opportunity to discover another secret about him, and second, that Max would leave him, and he wouldn't ever come back. 

&&&

There's no real need for them to be here; not tonight, not alone, not together. Max already knows who framed George Russell. He knows who had the motive, who had the reason, who had the secrets. He knows even more than that: he knows the name of the man George Russell meets at regular, pre-defined times, in casual, abstract ways. He knows his connections to the British Secret Service. He knows everything there is to know.

Max doesn't care. There is just this case, this murder, this plot. And right now, there's this night, this gentle evening darkness, this man standing beside him as they methodically go through the contents of George Russell's desk. Daniel's hip pressed to his. His enthusiasm, his care, his delight in being useful. 

That one kiss on Max's boat haunts him. The warmth of Daniel's skin, the taste of his mouth, the gentle surprise blossoming into response. The silence afterwards; then the sound of the waves, the rhythm of the boat against the sea. 

Nothing since. 

[stuff happens]

They find themselves in the alcove away from the door. The light from the room outside settles gently through the patterned glass in George Russell's office door. They settle in the space the light doesn't touch. 

Outside, Toto Wolff, the other controlling partner in the firm of solicitors that employs George Russell, is kissing his secretary. She's not his wife. 

Max, pressed back against the wall, pulls Daniel in a little closer, further away from that shaft of light spreading across the rug. 

&&&

Daniel comes outside in soft swimming shorts and an open shirt to match. The boat rocks gently on the waves. There's no land in sight. There's nothing in sight but the blue of the horizon. He wears espadrilles and a hat with a brim. He pads over to where he's already laid out his towel, slipping off his shoes and lying down, knees up, his hat already pulled down over his eyes. He rests one hand behind his head. 

Max aches to taste him, to press his mouth to Daniel's skin, to feel him tremble beneath him as he trembles in bed, alone, night after night after he comes to the imagined touch of Daniel's hands to him. 

"Max," Daniel calls. "I've forgotten the drinks."

Max can see the drinks, just inside the door to the cabin. A small tray with a cocktail and a long glass. He's made Max a gin and tonic. Probably just the way Max likes it. 

He steps out of the shadow of the cabin. His shorts are grey. They are not soft like Daniel's wardrobe. He undoes the buttons. He's pushes them down, underwear too, until he's naked on the deck of his boat. His dick, small and pink and shy, twitches in the sunlight. 

Max walks over to where Daniel's settling in for his sunbathing, and waits until Daniel pushes back his hat. "You didn't bring the drinks," Daniel says, before he realises Max is naked, and his flush carries up over his cheeks and down to his shoulders. His gaze stays fixed on Max's small dick. 

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday: Mistaken Identity

Actually quite long (about 42 pages in my tiny notepad), because it's a full one-shot rather than part of a multi-chapter idea. Although that's not to say I won't add pieces later

The distress beacon had been Sig’s, but the shape lying limply in the dust was most assuredly not Sig. The gathered Wastelanders looked at each other with grim expressions: this felt like a trap.

"Circle around," Damas signed to the driver of the second car, "Check for an ambush. I'll see if it's one of ours."

"Be careful," the woman signed back. A dimple between her brows suggested that under her heavy scarf she was frowning.

"I'm always careful."

Even so, Damas took extra care in approaching the crumpled form, gesturing for Kleiver to follow him in case of attack. He'd assumed that the person -- or corpse, hard to tell at this distance -- would be larger up close. But as he drew near, the figure remained small, and slight. They were dressed like a Havenite from the Slums, wearing stained, threadbare layers of clothing. A filthy scarf and dismally battered goggles half covered matted green hair; they didn't seem to have any more protection from the sun than that. Foolish Havenite.

Two small animals lay beside the stranger, breathing shallowly. Pets? That seemed an unusual step for Haven, letting an exile take anything important to them.

Damas glanced at the stranger, but kept his attention focused on the ground, looking for Sig’s beacon. It didn't take long to find, considering it lay beside the stranger's hand. Damas picked up the beacon and turned it over in his hand. There were no obvious signs of tampering. No blood or scorching or anything else to indicate that the beacon had been taken by force.

"How did you get this?" Damas murmured, not really expecting an answer. Whoever this was, they were barely alive.

"Er...lordship?"

It was not like Kleiver to sound hesitant.

"Do you...know this kid?"

An odd question. Damas looked up with a quizzical expression and found the big Wastelander peering down at the face of the figure. Kid?

The king pivoted on his heels to get a better look at their find.

Sunken cheeks. Dark circles under large eyes. A pitiful patch of stubble that might’ve been a first attempt at a beard on an otherwise startlingly smooth face. Precursors, he was a kid, wasn't he? He could've been anywhere from sixteen to nineteen -- in his state, it was hard to tell.

"Scrawny thing, isn't he?" Damas remarked. He took hold of an iron ring strapped to the boy's chest and tried to shake off a nagging sense of familiarity in the boy's features. "A channeler, maybe? We could use one of those. Honestly, I'm impressed that he's still breathing."

He glanced up. "What makes you think I'd know who the whelp is?"

Kleiver looked back at him with an unusually uncomfortable expression. He gestured awkwardly to the boy's face.

"Well he's...I mean- well look at 'im! 'S just weird, is all."

"What's weird?" Damas scoffed and hoisted the boy up by the iron ring.

The boy's head fell back and for just a moment, something around his neck glittered in the fading sunlight. With a curse, Damas dropped him as if he'd been burned. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled back a step, swearing under his breath.

"What fresh hell is this?" he demanded.

That was where Phobos found him after completing her perimeter check: staring in horror down at a much younger version of his own face.

Phobos crossed the space between their vehicles to touch his shoulder.

"Damas?"

"I...who is this?"

"Damas." Phobos shook him gently. "Hey. Hey. Are you just going to leave him lying there?"

The king blinked and inhaled sharply as he seemed to come to. "Right," he muttered, "...right. Pho, take my staff."

"What? Oop-!" Phobos hastily grabbed at the staff Damas all but dropped. "What the-!"

In a daze, Damas knelt and slipped an arm under the boy’s shoulders.

"Gods. He really is scrawny."

He shook his head and hoisted the boy up.

"Kleiver, get the car started. And someone grab those animals!"

Phobos's eyes flicked from Damas to the half-dead castaway, and narrowed.

"Damas...who is that?"

Her husband turned to face her, a disturbed shock stamped clearly on his face.

"I don't know," he said grimly, "but he's wearing a Maridius amulet."

■■■■■■■■■■

The Rift Rider idled, ready to take Samos and the child back in time. Ready to begin the cycle of pain all over again. Jak bit his lip and folded his younger self's fingers back over the proffered amulet.

"No, buddy, you keep it," he said gently. "Try...try to remember something about your family this time. Maybe remember me."

The tiny boy pouted, then threw his arms around Jak’s neck. "Za?" He whispered in Jak’s ear, the closest he'd ever come to saying his name.

Jak closed his eyes and hugged the kid tightly. Precursors knew he wouldn't get a lot of hugs in Sandover. "No, buddy. Za can't go with you this time. You have to be really brave for me, okay? There's...there's a kid on the other side of that gate who really really needs a friend. Can you look out for him for me?"

Sniffling, the little boy let go and nodded. "Brave like you," he signed. Then, rubbing his eyes, he sat back down in the craft.

Jak took a slow breath, then looked to the younger Samos. Doubtless this version of the sage was going to withhold just as much information as the older one. Jak didn't trust him to warn Mar about Errol. And he'd be blasted if he let that swine get his hands on the amulet in any timeline.

"You know, I didn't have the amulet when I got back to the present," he said casually. "I think you locked it up for safekeeping right before we fixed the Rift Gate, but I never saw where in the house you put it."

Samos took the bait too easily. "Oof! Yes, I suppose it would be bad for the kid to meet the Baron with that thing on. Thanks for the heads-up."

All too soon, they were gone. And not long after, so was Jak, headed for Dead Town. It had been a selfish ploy, a bid to give himself some semblance of a connection to his past. He couldn't remember having the amulet yet -- but he'd had trouble remembering a lot of his early years ever since the experiments began. "Traumatic amnesia", Daxter called it.

But if the amulet was there, if his ploy had worked, then maybe he'd get something back.

It took him an hour to sift through all the debris in the old hut, even with Daxter's help. The ravages of time hadn't left many places for treasure to remain undiscovered in. But just when Jak was beginning to fear that someone had found it decades before, his hand brushed over a brick in the old planter circles that lacked the same grout as the others.

Leave it to Samos to hide such an important artifact under a giant, vicious, carnivorous plant. Had he fed it to the thing?! The amulet was down where the roots had once been!

Still, Jak could admit to a sense of relief that washed over him once the amulet was in his hand. Clearly he'd changed the past at least enough to have an emotional connection to the pendant. He tucked it into his tunic, resolving to put it on a chain the first chance he got. He wasn't going to let anyone take it from him again.

■■■■■■■■■■

The last thing Jak remembered was collapsing beside a boulder, desperately trying to stay conscious only to fail seconds later. He could hear a voice -- not Daxter or Pecker -- nearby, and as he focused on that, other sensations began to filter in.

Softness beneath him.

The smell of eco med-gel.

An itch in the crook of his elbow.

A sticky dryness in his mouth, like cotton.

And something off about his skin. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his skin felt different somehow. Cleaner? No, that didn't make any sense. Why would it be clean?

It took a monumental effort to open his eyes, and he regretted it immediately. Light stabbed into his retinas pitilessly, and Jak let out an involuntary grunt of discomfort. In response, a shadow fell over his face, shielding him from the unforgiving glare. First a blur, then a shape, a face slowly swam into focus.

"Ah, you're back with us! Thank the Precursors, that was a close one, eh?"

Jak blinked up in confusion as his brain slowly processed the presence of one of the most beautiful women he could ever remember seeing. Not that he could remember seeing that many women in his life. Her skintone was so deep that the light framing her glanced off her cheekbones in little flashes of garnet and amethyst. Coils of hair spread out behind her head in an artful halo, providing most of the blessed shade across Jak's face. He squinted up at her for a long moment, trying to determine whether he was hallucinating in the desert.

"....'m I dead?" Jak croaked, then winced at the dry soreness in his throat.

The angelic stranger laughed in surprise. "Dead? No, quite the opposite, kid. Although you got pretty close."

"Where am I?" Jak tried to sit up, and something tugged at his elbow.

Instantly, he froze. He knew the shape of a needle.

Bile crawled up his throat, and his heart thundered in his ears as he forced himself to turn his head and look.

A bag of clear fluid hung from a stand beside a cot he'd been laid on. Descending from the bag, a long tube fed the fluid through a needle secured to his arm with bandages. A high whine escaped him, and the room seemed to spin.

"Whoa whoa whoa- kid, kiddo, look at me."

The mysterious woman suddenly took his face in her hands -- rough hands. A warrior's hands.

"Ssshh, hey, you're okay. You're okay, chico. It's just saline, that's all."

"W- what-?"

"Saline. It's a...kinda like a saltwater solution you give to people suffering dehydration."

One of the calloused hands cupped the back of his head, rubbing a thumb comfortingly over stubble.

Stubble?

Jak's breathing quickened and the room spun faster.

"What-!" he gasped, and his breaths began to squeak. "What did you do to me?!"

"Hey now, breathe. Breathe." The woman began to sway back and forth where she sat, dragging him along with the rocking motion.

"Inhale with me, yeah? In and out, in and out. I've got you."

"M- my h- my h- hair-!" Jak squeaked.

The woman clicked her tongue. "Oh, ohhh, you can feel that, huh? Yeah, you were overheated. The mats in your hair were just doing damage to you, longterm. The doctors didn't have any time to waste, so they shaved it out to cool you off."

She continued to cradle his face with her other hand, offering him a full, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get your okay, chico. But...I mean, you wouldn't wake up! Not even your orange friend could get a response. He gave us the go-ahead."

For the first time since waking, Jak felt something like relief. "D- Daxter?"

"Mm. The mouthy one? Yes."

"Where-?"

The woman pulled back and turned away for a moment. Jak wondered why he felt minutely disappointed by that. He wasn't that touch-starved, was he? When she turned back, she held a cup and pitcher in her hands. The sight of the water trickling from one container to the other made Jak's throat ache all the fiercer.

"Here. Slow sips now, little bird. Don't make yourself sick like your friend did." The woman settled back into her seat at the edge of the cot. She made a vague gesture with the hand not holding the pitcher.

"At least he made a quick recovery. My husband took him back up to our place. When you're cleared by the doctors, we'll take you to him."

Jak gulped down the water, ignoring his visitor's protests. It was cool, although not cold, but even that was like heaven on his irritated throat. Droplets leaked from the corner of his mouth, and the IV tugged painfully as he reached up to catch them. He didn't think he could afford to waste even one drop.

"Hey hey!" The woman reached for the cup, and Jak jerked back out of reach.

"Not so fast, chico, you'll make yourself sick!"

Jak growled softly behind the rim of the cup and hitched up his shoulders. If this lady wanted to take the water away, she'd be in for a fight.

"Whoa!" The woman raised her brows. "Calm down. The water isn't going anywhere, I promise."

"I don't know you," Jak retorted, "How do I know you keep promises?"

Now the woman began to look a little annoyed.

"Fair enough," she begrudgingly allowed. "Considering the state we found you in, am I to assume that if I take that cup you'll bite me or something?"

"I might," answered Jak coolly.

Something bittersweet passed over the woman's face and lingered there at the corners of her mouth as she forced a smile.

"Well that wouldn't be very nice of you, but I can't say it wouldn't fit with every other kid in Spargus."

Jak lowered the cup slowly. "Spargus?" he asked, tilting his head, "What's that?"

"It's home," she answered. "The city of the forgotten and the betrayed -- and the hunter."

Jak raised the cup again and muttered darkly, "Well that's ironically appropriate."

"Let's start over, huh?"

The woman leaned back and carded a hand through her teased-out coils.

"My name is Phobos. I was with the convoy that found you and your friends in the Strider Range."

"...oh."

Jak grimaced. This woman had rescued him, hadn't she?

"I'm, um. I'm Jak."

Embarrassed, he gestured to the cup, the IV, and looked away. "What do I owe you? I don't...I don't have any money."

Phobos shook her head. "It's fine, chico- er, Jak. When people come to Spargus, those who have life debts pay it back by contributing to the overall survival of their new home and neighbors, depending on how old they are when they arrive."

"How old they are?" Jak fiddled with his now empty cup awkwardly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Phobos gave him an amused glance. "Uh...kids are kids? This isn't Haven, hey? We don't even let people take the citizen applicant training course until we know they're eighteen or older."

She scooted closer and held up the pitcher. "Cup."

"Huh? Oh-"

Jak tilted the cup toward her but didn't let go. He watched her refill it and puzzled over the idea of a city in good enough shape that kids didn't have to work. Maybe there weren't metalheads out here.

"So...do you people normally pick up half-dead people and bring them home?"

"As long as they aren't half dead because they tried to kill us, yeah," Phobos said with a careless shrug. "Strength and survival: it's the two things Wastelanders respect the most. So when we find somebody in the badlands who isn't a dried out corpse, we know we've got the makings of a tough little survivor."

Surviving was, by necessity, Jak’s best skill. But considering the kind of jobs he got when people knew that, and how it had turned out last time, Jak decided not to advertise that fact. It already nagged at him that someone had seen his scars, and the bruises from the arrest, and every other injury he'd gained in the name of helping a city that hated him. Spargus wouldn't get the same freebies.

Eventually, Phobos stood up and put the pitcher back on a low counter that extended out of sight behind a curtain. She dusted off her yellow tunic and stretched her back with a soft grunt.

"Alright. I guess somebody ought to tell Damas you're awake and talking," she said, more to herself than to Jak.

Before Jak could ask who Damas was supposed to be, something careful and calculated slipped into Phobos's voice.

"So...just you and the critters, huh? Your parents know where you are?"

Hands tightened into claws around the wooden cup.

"I never had parents," Jak growled.

One more thing to "thank" Haven for, apparently.

"Ah." Phobos's eyes widened in an oddly dismayed expression. "Sorry, I..."

"Why?"

Jak's eyes narrowed at her.

"Literally no one has ever asked if I even had parents before you. You're fishing for something. What do you want?"

Then it hit him: if the woman had seen his scars, she had seen his amulet as well. Was that what she was getting at? Probing to see if any other ill-fated Heirs of Mar existed?

"Uh..." Phobos puffed out her cheeks and blew the air out. "It's...complicated. I'm gonna let Damas take this one."

"Who's Damas?" Jak demanded.

Phobos made another odd grimace and lifted a radio from the countertop.

"Hey, Damas, the kid's awake," she said, ignoring Jak's question.

A raspy voice crackled through the speaker.

"He is? Has he said anything yet?"

"Well, he threatened to bite me," Phobos joked before growing serious. "Take it easy when you come down, he's pretty worked up. Bring the orange guy if you can."

"Understood. Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah," Phobos sighed. "He doesn't know who we are, where we are, or how he got here. I don't think you're going to get any answers out of him."

"......oh."

The guy she called Damas sounded strangely...emotional.

"Er...alright. I'll...I'll see what I can do when I get there."

Jak glowered at Phobos's back. He hated when people talked about him like he wasn't there.

Out of habit, he reached for his collar to run his fingers over his amulet. That always helped him slow down when his thoughts were racing too fast. His fingers brushed against loose linen; the tunic he was wearing were not the one he'd had on the last time he was awake. Jak's stomach felt like it was plummeting from a precipice as he finally looked down at his body. Someone had dressed him in loose, lightweight clothing. There was no sign of his own clothing.

Or his amulet.

Fighting down feelings of violation and revulsion, Jak gripped the thin sheets in hands like claws.

"Where are my clothes?" he snarled, "What did you do?"

Phobos didn't look overly concerned, which only agitated Jak more.

"They're being checked for trackers or other bugs," she said with a shrug. "Haven's been trying to find our city for years. Can't be too careful. Look on the bright side: it's probably the first time they've ever been washed."

She leaned over the cot, and Jak jerked away.

"Don't touch me!"

There wasn't much room to retreat on the small bed, but Jak tried anyway.

"Who stole my amulet?"

"Hey, calm down," Phobos raised a placating hand, but dropped it quickly when Jak flinched. "Nobody stole it."

"Don't lie to me!"

Jak was over the verge of panic now. He was alone, powerless, right back to being poked and prodded like a doll. Like a lab rat.

"What do you want?!"

Grimacing, Phobos stepped back and grabbed her radio again.

"Hey Damas? Hurry it up, will ya?"

"I'm en route."

"Good. Because he just noticed the absence of a Certain Something and he is losing it right now."

"Rot. Okay, just- rot! Try to keep him calm, I'm bringing it, okay?"

The man's voice rose and fell oddly. It almost sounded like he was running.

Phobos ran a hand through her hair and puffed out her cheeks. This was not going as well as they'd hoped. Could've been worse, she acknowledged, but this kid's reactions were giving her a bad feeling. The scars, the reaction to the IV and having been given new clothing without his knowledge, it all painted a pretty grim picture.

"Damas is bringing your amulet down," she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. (How did one talk to agitated teenagers?! Why weren't they as easy to calm as toddlers?) "He'll explain everything, chico, I promise. Just...stay here a minute, okay?"

Jak warily watched the woman walk through the curtain, listening and counting her footsteps. By the sound of it, he was in the back of a narrow building. There was someone else up there, wherever Phobos had gone, but they rustled around opening drawers instead of speaking. If there were guards, Jak couldn't hear them. He hoped there were none. In his current state, he doubted he'd be able to fight them off.

A door slid open with the sound of a chime, and Jak stiffened as a heavier tread entered the building.

"About time!" he heard Phobos greet the person, "He's all yours."

"Allegedly," the voice from the radio answered.

"Mmhm. You're cute when you're in denial. Better get back there before the poor kid has a heart attack."

When the curtains parted, Jak was in the act of climbing off the cot to look for something -- anything -- to defend himself with. He froze, locking eyes with a weathered Wastelander covered in scars and armor. He looked like the kind of guy Sig would run with. Jak stared at the man and wondered if this was the guy who allegedly had his amulet. Were those piercings on his skull?! Despite himself, Jak wondered how the man slept without ripping whatever he used for a pillow.

"Easy, young one," the man murmured, holding out his hands as if approaching a skittish animal. "Easy. You're in no danger."

"Usually when people tell me that, they're lying," Jak retorted. He backed up, silently cursing his shaky legs, until his back touched the wall and the IV tugged painfully at his arm. "Where's Daxter? What do you people want with us?"

The armored man lowered himself to sit on the end of the cot and folded his hands in front of him. "Your friend is perfectly safe," he soothed, "Well, unless he tries to use the water wheel as a carnival ride, I suppose. But he doesn't really seem the type to do that kind of thing."

"You didn't answer my other question," Jak said pointedly. "What do you want?"

"Answers," the man -- Damas, probably -- replied steadily, "Just answers."

"Like what?" Jak edged closer to the IV, trying to relieve the horrific sensation of the needle.

Then his visitor reached into a cloth pouch at his belt and drew out a familiar shape.

"What can you tell me about this?" he asked, holding up the amulet.

Forgetting the needle, Jak lunged for the pendant. Pain lanced through his elbow for an instant, hot and dull, and he pulled up short. He'd learned long ago not to rip needles out. There would just be more if he did.

"Whoa!" Damas dropped the amulet on the sheets and reached out as if to steady Jak. "Slow down, boy, you're going to hurt yourself! You shouldn't even be standing right now!"

Jak, unfortunately, agreed. But he locked his knees and kept his eyes on Phobos's friend, just as he had on Phobos.

"Give it back," he rasped, holding out a demanding hand.

Damas frowned thoughtfully. He picked up the chain and considered it for a few seconds before dropping it into Jak's outstretched hand.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

With time-travel being too unbelievable an explanation even to those closest to Jak, he settled for the most open-ended version of the truth he could manage.

"Ancient ruins," he muttered.

The chain slipped down around his neck, and he visibly relaxed once the familiar weight rested against his collarbone.

Damas made an interested sound and folded his arms. "Ruins, eh? How did you find it?"

Evasively, Jak shrugged. "I just...knew where to look."

"And does this happen to you often? "Knowing" things?"

Hm. He might’ve been a little too open-ended there. Jak braced his back against the wall and begrudgingly clarified.

"I'm not a seer. It's just with eco stuff."

Damas nodded. "Ah! I understand. So what made you decide to keep such an odd little trinket?"

He wasn't being very subtle. Jak could do blunt too.

"It's mine. That's it. And I know what you're trying to do."

A hint of tension lined Damas’s neck and shoulders as he tried to play casual.

"Oh? And what am I trying to do, young one?"

Jak curled his lip at the man. "You're trying to get me to say I'm an Heir of Mar, probably so you can get some of his artifacts. What, do you want the Precursor Stone too? Well you're too late."

Any semblance of relaxation dropped from Damas like a cloak. He straightened, and the air filled with an undercurrent of warning. It was almost like eco -- enough that Jak wondered if the man could channel.

"Explain that, please."

It didn't sound like a request.

"What, exactly, do you know about the Precursor Stone?"

Jak gripped his amulet for calm.

"Not a myth," he said shortly, "Not meant to be used as a weapon, and not a rock."

He lifted his chin and met Damas’s hard eyes.

"I opened it. It can't be used anymore."

"Opened?!" Damas recoiled slightly. "You've touched the Stone?"

Suspicion colored his voice, but strangely he didn't seem to be getting hostile.

"Where did you find it?"

Agitated, Jak snapped, "In a tomb designed by some sadistic obstacle-course lover obsessed with "manhood", guarded by a bunch of loudmouth Oracles. Be glad you missed it."

He wondered if he was just setting himself up for problems later. If the Wastelanders knew he could speak to Oracles and traverse ruins, they'd probably make him pay off the medical care by finding artifacts for them. Story of his life.

But Damas looked shaken by the statement, not shrewd. He seemed almost to pale, and drew a hand over his face to rest over his mouth. His eyes bored into Jak's with an unsettling intensity.

"The amulet truly belongs to you, then," he finally acknowledged, in little more than a croak. His fingers pressed into his jaw hard enough that Jak wondered if the man would have fingerprints there later.

"How...how old are you, boy?"

What did that have to do with anything? Annoyed, Jak shrugged.

"Like I know? Fifteen, sixteen, what's it matter?"

"You don't...you don't know?" Damas looked even more shaken. "No one told you your own birthdate?"

Jak didn't want to talk about this. He finally slumped to sit at the head of the cot and crossed his arms sullenly.

"Y'know what, that's none of your business. Where's Daxter? I'm not saying anything else until I see him."

"I can arrange that."

Damas stood and absentmindedly picked up the wooden cup.

"You should er...try to sleep some. Heat exhaustion will leave you weak for a good several days-"

"Are you Damas?" Jak interrupted suddenly, as Phobos's attempted reassurances came to mind.

Damas turned. "Yes?"

He looked like he almost expected something else to follow.

Jak pulled his knees to his chest and rested folded arms on top of them. "The lady who was in here said you'd explain what you people wanted from me. And why you took my amulet."

The Wastelander looked, Jak thought, rather like he had just swallowed a bee. He made a few awkward hand motions -- some of it almost looked like signs -- and tugged on a tuft of hair at his chin.

"Ah...that is..."

He picked up the pitcher and splashed water into the cup clumsily. He was unsettled.

"The crest of Mar has...connotations. Doubtless you've learned by now, but when people see it they form...expectations."

Damas cleared his throat and handed the cup over to Jak.

"I removed it from you before the monks could see it and develop those expectations. I...wanted you to be able to focus on healing without the distraction of history zealots."

Well, that was marginally better than Jak had been imagining. He didn't exactly trust that the man was telling the truth, but at least he hadn't tried to sell it or something. Jak acknowledged his visitor's words with a curt nod and sipped at the water slowly. Idly, he wondered if his general age fit this city's "too young for serious work" bracket or not. After Haven, he honestly didn't know whether he hoped so or not.

Damas was staring at him. It was subtle, but intense, and Jak could feel his eyes. It made his brain itch, and he felt the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

"Are you in any pain?" Damas asked suddenly, apparently in response to the squirming.

"I don't like being stared at," Jak answered gruffly.

"...ah." Damas cringed and looked away. "Apologies. You just...look very familiar. I was trying to place whether I might have met you or someone you were related to in the past."

"Not unless you were in Haven before Praxis took over," Jak grumbled bitterly, "Or you took a tour of his prison labs in the last two years."

You're talking too much, Jak. Wait for Daxter. Why are you volunteering this information?

Well. He knew. He was scared and disoriented and angry, and he wanted to shock someone. Anyone. It was the dark eco talking.

"The labs?!" Damas dropped the pitcher with a crash. A terrible look flooded his face. "Did...was your whole family there?"

"Rot! Why are you guys so obsessed with information about my parents?" Jak was getting tired of repeating himself. "You know as much as I do! Even the freakin Oracles wouldn't tell me what the amulet meant until I got to the Tomb!"

From the front of the building, the third person finally called out.

"My lord, if you keep getting him worked up, I'm tossing you out. He's supposed to be resting!"

"I'm working on it, Petros!" Damas retorted sharply.

He closed his eyes and made a visible attempt to calm himself before turning back to Jak.

"Sorry. I know this is confusing. I am...having a difficult time finding the right words to ask the right questions." He made a helpless gesture. "Finding you, practically on my doorstep, with that amulet has upended my understanding of the world and my place in it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jak demanded.

Damas gingerly took a seat at the end of the cot again and, sighing deeply, reached into his pouch again.

"The last time I was in Haven for an extended period of time was about fifteen years ago, at the end of the last major campaign against the metalheads."

He opened his hand, revealing a second amulet of Mar in his palm.

"After Praxis betrayed me- after the hardships our city has faced over the last few years-"

He shook his head with furrowed brow.

"I- I thought I was the only one left. And now here you are, and I have more questions than answers."

Jak blinked, then blinked again.

"Well," he said in a strangled voice, "That makes two of us."

[spagheddiediaz]

snippet sunday ✨

my notifications are being wonky so im sorry if i missed someone asjdsdfjdjs :( i haven't done one of these all week bc i've been in a FUNK but here is a lil snippet from the roommates fic i've been neglecting :) tagged by (i think) @theotherluciferr @forthewolves @jeeyuns @pirrusstuff @alyxmastershipper @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @wikiangela @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @icecreampotluck

"Goodnight, baby, I'll see you Saturday, okay?" Eddie kisses the top of Christopher's head and combs his fingers through his son's soft curls. "I love you." Eddie says softly, realizing Christopher was already out cold. He stands and makes his way out of the bedroom, praying Shannon was already asleep when -

“You do know you can’t just walk back into his life and act like you’ve been here the whole time, right?” Shannon snaps at him the second he closes the door to Christopher’s room. “Do you even - do you even know what it was like these past 5 years?” “I-” Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off.  “Of course you don’t. Because you weren’t here.” She looks angry, disappointed, frustrated, and about 10 other emotions as she turns her back to go into the living room, away from Christopher’s door.  Eddie thinks about turning the other way and heading right out the door and having this conversation later but he can’t. He loves Christopher too much to even consider jeopardizing this.  “I know.” He says calmly, standing in front of her and crossing his arms as she sits on the corner of the couch. “I panicked, Shannon. We were kids and I - I panicked and I- I don’t even know how to apologize. To you. To him.. I just - I-” “You can start by taking him to his doctor's appointment tomorrow at 3.” She says sternly. “And then he has physical therapy. Right next door, at 3:45. And then he has homework, and speech therapy, and he has to eat.” Shannon stands up, shaking her head angrily.  “You want to be a parent, Eddie? This is it. It’s not a trip to the aquarium or the zoo once a week. It’s - It’s hard and it’s frustrating and you don’t get to walk in here and be the favorite because you’ve never had to tell him no.” She brushes past him, her shoulder bumping into his as she turns around. “I’ll tell him you’re picking him up from school. Enjoy being the fun parent tomorrow, Eddie.” She spits out, shutting the door to her bedroom angrily and leaving Eddie alone in the living room. 

tagging whoever hasn't done it this is ur sign to feed me content heh <3

[chakoru]

dream as actual conversations i’ve had w friends (snippets)

ㅤ ㅤ might make this into a series bc i think we’re pretty funny idk tho lmk ur thoughts

includes cuss words :o ㅤ!!ㅤ text format

ㅤㅤ

you: so why am i stuck BABYSITTING jisung again??

jeno: cus he loves u the most :)

haechan: BECAUSE WE ARE TIRED!! haechan: oh haechan: yea bc he loves you😘🥰😜

you: … you: is he actually crazy

jeno: mmm jaemin did say not to let him go in the kitchen jeno: or near the outlets

chenle: that dont’s list should include “don’t touch my FUCKING FOOD” chenle: i take a marker everywhere to mark my shit bc of that stupidass

you: i see you: he's a gremlin. you: except he comes with instructions

chenle: on point comparison. hats off to you

ㅤ

ㅤ

jaemin: i’m gonna stop by the supermarket, anyone want anything?

jisung: COOKIES jisung: please

renjun: could you grab milk? we’re out

haechan: use my number so i can get those rewards 🤑🤑

jaemin: sorry whos that? didn't save ur info yet

haechan: IHY

ㅤ

ㅤ

you: but he’s like 4'11… you: i mean ik im not the tallest either but he’s INCHES below me

chenle: maybe he has a monster pp chenle: 🤷 stay optimistic

ㅤ

ㅤ

jisung: 22 years😵‍💫ago😧😬😦?? jisung: i feel so old 😪

renjun: you weren’t even around then stfu 😭

jisung: i was being manufactured

haechan: y’all were planned? i like to consider myself the second coming of christ🙏 haechan: a happy miracle

mark: ur mom said she cried when she saw you for the first time

haechan: i'm that amazing. tears of joy

mark: **tears of regret

ㅤ

ㅤ

haechan: that lying bitch

jeno: what the dog do 😟

haechan: NO y/n, that bitch

renjun: watch ur mouth

you: aw ilyt renjunie

renjun: ??? no my mom saw the notifications. she said stop swearing😇

heachan: hello????? back to me bc i NEED to rant

jeno: i think i wanna be a power ranger for halloween jeno: would my ass look okay tho

jaemin: juicy as always

chenle: can't beat marks tho

mark: amen

[dsaf-confessions]

sorry. big long ramble about dsaf 3 steven because i feel like the idea is cool but he also just feels like a whole different character

Ok. Starting this off. Steven was dumbed down so much in dsaf 3 and I hate it. Put them side by side they are not the same character. 3 has no trace of anything that made Steven an intimidating boss. There can be characters who are protagonists and also just aren't that good of people without it being goofy like Dave is! I think in dayshift 1, Steven was the antagonist, and that's why his character is the way it is. And the issue is, dayshift 3 gives him such a good setup!

First off, the endless hallways thing (assuming its not just that one hallway, which doesn't fit with the rest of the layers at all, and also how would more souls fit on there well, if we're going off the lore created in the game (which also makes little sense imo)). It's so good. iirc, even in dayshift 1, Steven is still scared constantly. He's good at not showing it, but he still is scared. The endless hallways, everywhere to run but nowhere to go, are so good for him as a character.

Second off, I feel like it's really not considered, by the fandom or in game, how long he spent there? He was there from 1987 to 2023. The kid that was killed earlier the same day? Didn't remember his parents. Hardly remembered living. "Oh, but Dee and Dave have been there longer!" you cry! They have ties to reality. Dave has their body, Dee iirc freely moved between the two dimensions before settling in The Flipside. They have some way to keep themself tethered to reality. Steven did not. Thats why I headcanon phone guys don't forget things; "Steven" would no longer exist if they didn't. He would've faded away just like every other soul there. Also, "he's an adult", shouldn't mean anything! Why would a literal dimension bend how it works just because he's an adult.

His layer and his character in general feel so rushed. I kind of get the argument that he had so much time to feel guilty, but the issue is, until dsaf 3 you never see him feel guilt. He shows pity but that is not guilt. The way hes made out to be in dsaf 1, having run minimum 2 locations (though more would make sense, just so he did a little bit more and it actually be reasonable to group him in with the kennedys and dave, who are all vital to the story), makes him seem like the strict, cold boss he is intended to be.

In conclusion: Dayshift 3 Steven feels rushed, poorly written, and like a completely different character. His layer was the smallest, his character development non-existent (the whole time youre with him hes just "ohhhhh ohhhh im such a bad person ohhhh peter ohhh no" aside from his very few interactions with dave where you see a snippet of his old personality), and he could've been so much better. I would love to go on a rant about how he works better as an antagonist even while working with jack, but this is long enough already.

i dunno. maybe i'll go replay dsaf 1 and 3 soon and see if anything changes my mind, but i doubt it. ive stood firm on this for all 2 years i've been obsessed with this man and i doubt it'll shift very much.

.

[thesovereignsring-if]

Devlog 10/19/2023

Current state of the game so far...

I'm struggling!! lol

I've been fighting this bitch of a writer's block for the past few weeks. Part 2 has been kicking my ass. The basic outline has been done but sitting down and getting to work as been hell so far. Its just so hard juggle worldbuilding and interesting character interactions at the same time (while also making it varied enough for a IF game ; w; )

Right now Chapter 1 Part 2 is about 13k words and I haven't fleshed out all the options/reactions or gotten to the middle of the outline! *sob* And for reference the entirety of Part 1 was give or take 23K words long. To be productive in this horrible episode of writer's block, I've been jumping ahead and writing the larger main/key plot points of the story so far, leaving countless holes in my wake. It's been working well so far, considering I'm 13k words in, but the idea of going back and filling those holes makes me want to cry!

So if Part 2 passes 20k words (which is starting to look likely) I'll be splitting the parts up once again, but I'll keep the release of part 2 as a private alpha build for my patreons only. I think narratively Part 2 is best digested in one go, but I feel depressed if I don't have work released out on a regular basis, it makes me feel unproductive and want to rush my work- which I really don't want to do!

Additionally, Im at my older cousin's place once again too look after his cute kitty. I'm treating it as a writing retreat, so I'm gonna mostly radio silent so I can catch up on all the writing I haven' done because of the stupid writer's block! I'll still reply to tumblr asks, but they'll be short and in very small bursts. That also means no artwork until I get back home on the 27th. But Alberich should be released to the public on the 22nd so you'll have to cope with that for a while!

There's a few more announcements (and slight spoilers) on my patreon about more upcoming content and etc etc.

Snippet:

“But that’s the boring answer. Maybe I’m just concerned you won't be able to handle seeing me in my true glory.” Sieghardt chimes in, “should we be concerned about you turning into a swan and flying away the moment we need you? Medea pauses for a second before laughing, “what? A swan?