#they would have to put some new rewards and options in there if they planned to put it back in

[thefirstknife]

Big fan of what I read in the thingy about plans for the exotic mission rotator, most of it sounds very solid to me

However

Since the focus seems to be on making the relevant exotic weapon craftable, do you think this makes it less likely we'll get whisper of the worm or zero hour back? Outbreak seems like it wouldnt be broken as a crafted but I cant imagine Whisper as crafted, that feels like a dangerous can of worms.

And also, as it seems unlikely Ada or Black Armory will have a story spotlight again, how would you feel about Niobe Labs getting reworked into an exotic mission, dropping craftable izanagi or le monarque, craftable black armory weapons, and then maybe some of those nifty modified foundry weapons but of the post-witch queen ones.

I thought about that too, specifically the potential to get Zero Hour and Whisper back with craftable Outbreak and Whisper. I really like the idea of craftable exotics with these missions and this idea would be the only real reason to bring back Zero Hour and Whisper. But how viable are they to be craftable is beyond me. I think in some way it might help, especially for Whisper, but on the other, it could make them too powerful, in this case for Outbreak. Balancing that would be incredibly difficult.

I'd like to see those missions returning however! Even if they don't want to make these weapons craftable. I just feel like they won't really bother going through that work if nothing of value can be added. A lot of people say that they want them back, but in reality they would not have much replayability without something to chase. They also might be too frustrating at this point; the Wicked Implement exotic mission being timed was a major point of frustration for a lot of people. But I would 100% enjoy seeing them back, with or without craftable exotics. In a way, it almost makes it more likely because at first it just made no sense to return those missions when the exotics are in the kiosk, but if they're going to be changed in some way, then it makes more sense. It's just on whether or not those two are viable for such a change.

Same thoughts on Ada and Black Armory. I think they did say at one point that they're looking into returning some old weapons, specifically Black Armory and Season of Dawn stuff, but so far we've not heard anything more about it. Your idea would be really cool. Reworking Niobe's Labs into a mission and adding a craftable Black Armory exotic would be really neat. No clue how likely that is to happen though; as of now, I'm thinking not very. But now that we know this stuff with exotic missions is possible, it's a neat possibility.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Nine: The Pomegranate Theory

Summary: Jakes still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4.3K

Author Note: My birthday present to you all is a new chapter of Was It Over. Once again I just wanted to say thank-you all so very much for all the love and support you have given me throughout this series. It truly means the world to me.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Pomegranate truly is the perfect symbol when comparing the differences between men and women. The enjoyment of a pomegranate is something that cannot and shouldn’t be rushed. Instead, it's something that requires patience and gentle hands. With deliberation and commitment comes the reward of its sweet, sweet flesh. 

When rushed, there is failure to collect all the seeds. Many men sacrifice the collection of its entirety for the sake of saving time. They'd rather risk the loss of a percentage of the fruit for immediate gratification. What we often fail to consider is that there may be a reason for the  dissimilarities between men and women. We tend to point out that the majority of men don't have the same attention to detail that women do instead of focusing on our individual strengths, and how they can balance and support each other. 

Instead, you chose, for the longest of times, to consider that your husband was willing to learn something that perhaps didn't come instinctively to him as it did to you. It's the energy you put into cutting and deseeding the metaphorical pomegranate that represented your marriage, but Jake never seemed to want to learn how to carefully harvest all those beautiful seeds. 

You and Jake both collectively brought so much to your marriage, you both had something to learn from one another in order to grow. But choosing resentment when you decided to step away from the man you loved more than life itself was never an option. 

Because resentment always leads to isolation: 

“Okay small steps for me Y/n.” Doctor Ignatii asked as he held your arms and stood before you. Everything hurt, everything felt wrong. Everything was stiff and out of place, but the sooner you were up and walking even if it was only a few steps here and there–the quicker your recovery would be. Having a stroke wasn't exactly defined as a step in your cancer treatment plan. No, it came right out of the left field and took you, your mother and your doctors by total surprise. “That's it, small steps.” 

“I don't think I should keep going, it feels wrong.” Your body didn't feel like your own, the ground underneath your no-slip socks felt uneven. Your feet felt like lead��heavy and weak at the same time. Your head had maintained a dull ache since you woke up post surgery that hadn’t gone away. Overall you just didn't feel like yourself and it showed. 

“Your neurological pathways need time to re-adjust to normal.” Doctor Ignatii was hopeful you'd have a pretty smooth recovery, his worry about any deficits post stroke was at a pretty low concern level just based on how quickly they were able to react to the stroke itself. “Give yourself some time, I'll touch base with the plastics department and oncology to discuss your pre-op notes prior to your mastectomy.” Doctor Ignatii explained as Jake watched with crossed arms off to the side as you took a few uneasy steps around the room littered with Christmas lights and decorations for the holiday seasons. “It's gonna be a slow but steady recovery, we just wanna make sure prior to your mastectomy that your body can handle the additional stress it's placed under while in surgery. The fact you're taking baby steps right now is a really good sign.” 

“Can I have a shower soon by any chance?” All you wanted was to not feel sticky and gross. “Is that in the realm of possibility any time soon?” 

“Only if you try to walk to the bathroom.” Doctor Ignittii replied with a quick wit you appreciated, he wasn't treating you like a sudden gust of a strong wind your be knocked on your sare and you truly appreciated the vote of confidence from your doctor. “But sure, I don't have any problem with you showering, maybe ask for some help?” Doctor Ignatii gestured over to where Jake stood just watching over you. He kept his respective distance but his eyes never left yours. He’s yet to leave your side for more than twenty minutes to grab something to eat, drink and take a deep breath. He was still trying to process how quickly things had changed. 

“Happy to help.” Jake teased as he sent you a wink, the half sided smirk was prevalent across his flustered but composed face. “Respectfully.” 

“Respectfully–” You replied as you stood on your own, Doctor Ignatti had stepped aside to let you take the lead. “You need to call our children and let them know you haven't abandoned them at their grandmother's house.”

“I should do that, shouldn't I?” Jake sighed, he'd been avoiding the call all together. With it being Christmas Eve Eve and your surgery still going ahead as planned, it was a call Jake wasn't looking forward to making. 

“I think it might be a good idea–” You slowly but surely sat down on the edge of your hospital bed, the IV poll you were gripping for dear life pumped against the side before Jake stepped a little closer to fix the tangled wires and cords. “Thanks.” You smiled softly as you watched him work.

“I'll let you know how our pre-op meeting goes, Mrs Seresin.” Doctor Ignatti interrupted with a quick tight lipped smile. “And–” Jake raised an eyebrow as your doctor paused in his tracks. “Although probably unsolicited, I've seen too many families come through these halls to know time is a fickle thing, if your kids aren't aware of your current situation, I favour the side of full transparency, no matter the age.” 

You didn't know how to respond so you said nothing and settled on a simple nod with kind eyes to match. Jake however, wasn't as graceful with his snarky growl. He was the very embodiment of a protective German Shepherd with his guard up.

“It's a good thing we didn't ask for your opinion then isn't it.” Jake snapped, he didn't mean to take his insecurities out on the man who had if nothing else saved your life.he was still trying to figure out who this Jensen guy was. But he did and it made you frown with shock horror that such a snarky comment would come from your husband's mouth.

“You’re right, I overstepped.” Doctor Ignatti held it hands up as if to say he was sorry. “I apologise, I'll be back later with an update for you.” You said nothing, you simply chose to remain silent until your doctor had left the room and silence had once again fallen over you and Jake. 

“I didn't mean–” Jake wanted to say he didn't mean to be so snappy. That he really didn't mean to bite the hand that saved his wife, But you 

“You meant it.” The tone you used broke right through the exterior of Jake's hardened shell. Despite his inability to make it known that all Jake was trying to do in that very moment was show a united front on your decision to keep your family, your husband and subsequently your children in the dark about your current situation—he still helped you back into bed, tucked your legs under the Blau and fixed your pillows. “And he’s right you know, whether we want to hear it or not the kids probably need to know why you left so abruptly.” Jake's phone had been ringing off the hook since he left his mother's house. Jasmine was persistent regardless if Jake was answering or not. Constant texts, missed calls, updates on the kids she knew he was thankful for despite his missing in action status. 

“You wanna tell the kids what’s going on?” You and Jake hadn’t really discussed it, he was following your lead on this one. Jake didn’t want to overstep any boundaries you’d set he wasn’t aware of, or had unintentionally forgotten about. He was holding off on everything, telling his sister what the hell was going on, telling his mother more than she ever deserved to know, telling the kids their mum was a little sick. 

“No—no, I wanna tell the kids, for now, that I’m just a little sick and that’s why I needed you here more than they needed you over the next few days.” You explained your view. “I don't want them panicking about me, they're young, too young to need to know the severity of the situation.” 

“Not telling them doesn't make the truth any less real, Honey–what if we tell them and–“ Jake never got a chance to finish his sentence, he never got a chance to say that if you didn’t want to tell your kids he’d support your decision regardless if he agreed or not before you interrupted to explain where you were coming from. 

“They don't need to know Jake, I can't tell them, I can't tell my children that I might be dying alright I just can't.” You were a little more harsh than need be, but the emotional weight of the situation was taking a toll on you. “But I wasn’t about to bite my brain surgeon's head off for offering a valid opinion on a rough situation.” 

“You know what?” Jake cooed as he reached out to touch your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin. The gentle touch brought you a solace you'd never truly understand as Jake's emerald eyes swirled with all the love and admiration in the world. “You’re right.” Jake didn't want to argue, not now, not when he could tell your emotions were running high and life seemed like it was against you. You needed him in your corner, for better or worse. “I’ll call Jas, I'll tell her what's going on, full God's honest truth and then we’ll tell the kids that you're just a little sick.” 

“Just a little–” You replied with tears in your eyes, they were pooling at your lower lash line, ready to spill and open the flood gates. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” Jake listened as the pad of his thumb worked to catch the falling tears that cascaded down your cheek. “I should have–you needed to know.”

“I understand why you didn't.” Jake sighed as he sat by your bed side. “I wasn't–” he began to explain but shortly after changed what he was about to say. “I put myself in a position where I could lose you, and I shouldn't have, you and me and whatever our marriage is right now isn't the priority so just know I'm not saying this to fix that.” Jake cooed as he felt his eyes watering. “Right now all that matters is that we focus on you and your health and making sure you are the only priority.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“I got you one of those pant by numbers kits and some lego flowers I thought you might be able to do to fill the time.” Your mother wore a fake smile so painfully obvious that it made your heart want to burst inside your chest. This wasn't and hadn't been easy on her, carrying the burden of being the only one who knew about your diagnosis. Now, as Jake sat by your bedside, your mother wanted nothing more than to tell him how thankful she was that she now had someone else to carry the weight with. 

But Mary wasn't about to do that, no. She wouldn't make the situation about her. But watching her little girl go through something she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy was brutal. 

“That's really nice of you mum, you didn't have to do that.” Jake frowned momentarily when he heard you say that go to line. ‘You didn't have to do that.’ It was a sentence he hadn’t heard in a long time. You always used to say it, Jake just wasn't sure when you had stopped saying it to him. There wasn’t an awful lot of things he was going out of his way to do that would earn him a bashful or somewhat self deprecating response like that. 

“I know, but I saw them at Target and thought they might keep you occupied.” Your mothers smile faded just slightly as she placed your presents under the small christmas tree that sat on the top of the small cupboard that could be used to house clothing and personal items patients brought with them. You hadn't paid much mind to unpacking, all you had managed was your toiletries. But your mother had gone above and beyond to make the space you were taking up residency in a little more homie. “How’re you feeling anyway?” 

“I'm alright, a little stiff but Doctor Ignatii said that's to be expected, he’ll be back soon to help with the first few steps.” You knew your mother wasn't really prying about a health update, but more about a romantic one. Her eyes quickly darted to where Jake still sat holding your hand in his. He was afraid that if he let go that you'd disappear. Or worse. “A little shocked to find out my children are still in Texas but I'm sure given the circumstances I'll manage.” 

“Well at least they're supervised and with family, that's all that matters.” Your mother replied as she pushed a little of your hair behind your ear. “Have you given any more thought about cutting your hair?” 

“You were thinking about cutting your hair?” Jake finally managed the courage to jump into the conversation, he still felt like an intruder of some sort. He was still trying to process everything, the very idea that you were battling an aggressive form of breast cancer along with the fact you'd suffered a very recent stroke was all too much for his brain to comprehend. 

“I'm gonna lose it all anyway.” You shrugged as you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “May as well get ahead of the curve and shave it all off before it falls out.” Hair holds memories, in some cultures it's even considered sacred. In some religions women cover their hair after marriage for only their husbands to see, others keep theirs pure and untreated by dyes. Some women of colour from countries across the world prefer to wear their hair in protective styles that give their hair longevity and life. 

But you? You were losing yours. The keratin in your follicles had stopped reproducing, your follicles were dying off and snapping. It was a hard pill to swallow if you were being completely honest, but if shaving your hair off before you were subjected to looking like your daughters weird barbie doll was something that could help you maintain whatever dignity you had left, you were going to do it, regardless if you were slightly worried about your head being an odd shape. It beats you know, dying after all. 

“Doctor Ignatii already took a pretty big chunk anyway from the surgery.” Your mother added. “Besides, it's a little more empowering to shave it yourself than losing it over time.” Jake understood, so he didn't argue. It was your choice at the end of the day. “Now, I'm not staying for too long, I thought I'd head back to yours, tidy up, make sure the house is in order for when you're able to go home.” Before you had a chance to argue or say she didn't have to, Jake was advocating on your behalf. 

“Thanks Maz, that's perfect.” He smiled softly as the pad of his thumb rubbed against your hand. All you did was nod along in agreement, it did sound nice. Unnecessary in your humble opinion, but nice. 

It wasn't long after that your mother was saying her goodbyes to the both of you for the day, being along with Jake wasn't awkward, but it did feel a little uneasy with so much still left to discuss. All the potential what if’s and could be’s. 

“Can you please pass me my laptop?” You were the first one to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you, only the steady threthem of monitors could be heard amongst the thick silence. 

“You still working on that book?” Jake asked rather tentatively, it was a touchy subject. If you said yes then that meant you hadn't had time to finish it before your due date. Jake knew he played more of a role in that then he’d like to admit, but the idea you were still working on the same book meant the separation truly hadnt boded well in your favour to focus on your career. For Jake however, it had opened up another career advancement. The Daggers. 

“Uh yeah actually I am.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed and fixed up the blanket covering your legs. “I shelved it there for a little while.” The explanation truly was just that, you hadn't really had all that much time to work on a new publication while trying to raise three children on your own. “I picked it up again around August, just haven't made much progress with it with everything that's been going on.” 

“Do you feel like sharing some exclusive details with your number one fan?” Jake was almost unashamed in his attempt at breaking down your walls. “Who knows, I might be able to inspire some creativity.” 

“Oh you're my number one fan now are you?” You chuckled softly as you watched Jake reached into the drawer your mother had put your laptop and charger in. “And there isn't much creative freedom when it comes to writing a bibliography for true crime, unless you count ghoulish overkill and an absurd use of dark humour to cover up the truly graphic details of the world's most notorious crimes.” Jake smiled back at you as he held your laptop in one hand, the rose gold Mac with stickers randomly pleased all over the lid. 

“Don't be fooled by the good looks Honey, I can read a sentence or two without stuttering.” 

“Could've fooled me.” You fired back without hesitation as Jake faked a shot to the heart. “You really want me to read some to you?” Jake hadn't asked about your work in months. You'd stopped wondering if he cared about your career path before you decided to walk away from your marriage to focus on yourself. At the end of it all you left believing Jake had stopped caring about the things that made you simply you. 

“Yeah, of course, I mean–it would be nice to read some new material, after all–the copies I have back in North Island are pretty much falling apart from how much I tend to flick through them.” Jake had never been a big true crime fan, that was until you published your first book. 

“Wait, you have my books? Which ones?” The revelation made your heart skip a beat inside your chest, so much so that Jake saw it on the monitor. It made his cheeks flush a crimson red at the very thought he could still make you this flustered. 

“Uh–” Jake started as he came back down to sit beside you, opening up your laptop and placing it on the small but practical table that could go over your legs. “I have all five.” Jake would read the dedication every night before he went to bed and every morning before he went to work. They were all slightly different but the sentiment remained the same. His favourite one to read was:

“Dedicated to the man who loves me so, thank you for your service, I love you with all my heart.” 

Jake knew deep down, after all the two of you had gone through, after all the hurt he’d unintentionally caused with his emotional disconnect, that the dedication in your newest book wouldn't be for him. It would be for your children. 

“You've never told me this before?” Jake should have told you, he should have been more open, more honest about his feelings. He shouldn't have lost sight of what was truly important to him and it definitely shouldn't have taken losing you to realise how important you were. Jake had never known female rage until he dealt and fought with a woman who was feeling undervalued, unappreciated and unwanted. 

“I should have, I know that now.” It was only a small gesture at the bottom of Everest itself but Jake knew now was the time he had to really put the effort in, to show you he truly cared, that he really did love you in sickness and in health. “I'd really like to sit here and maybe I can read what you've written so far out loud so you can just rest–and if there's anything you wanna change, I can do it for you.” 

“Oh you don’t have to—“ Your sentence trailed off into nothing as you looked into your husband’s eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation or burden in them. But all you saw were those emerald green eyes staring back at you with all the love and warmth in the world. Jake wanted to do this, truly. “Sure, yeah if uh—I’d really like that.” 

It felt nice to be taken care of, to be valued and loved. But it wasn’t enough to undo the damage that Jake had unintentionally caused. He was going to have to put the work in, fight for you as much as you had to fight for your life. 

“Okay.” Jake smiled as he cleared his throat and turned the laptop his way. “Alright Honey, let’s go from the top shall we?”

“Take it away Mr. Ghost Writer.” You cooed as you settled into your hospital bed and found a comfortable position, if anything you were feeling rather tired. Maybe you’d be able to get some more sleep soon—that wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“In the early hours of January 1996, after an evening spent celebrating at Club Bayview in the Perth suburb of Claremonth, 18-year-old Sarah Spiers called a taxi to nearby Mosman Park. But when the cab arrived, she’d already gone. Sarah was never seen again.” Jake read out loud as you listened and laid there wondering if this was all some Lavender Haze to mask the reality that your marriage was over: 

 Or really how Jake wanted the two of you to be. Together again, in sickness and in health. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Just tilt your head a little.” Jake was being as gentle as he ever could be. “Let me know if I'm hurtin’ you.” The steam from the shower filled the bathroom as you sat on the little shower stool. The hot water cascaded down your naked self taking all the grimy sticky remanence from surgery away with it. 

“Feels perfect.” You sighed in relief at the feeling of being clean once again, Jake stood behind you washing your body with a small lofa in soft circular motions. Under the water with you. It wasn't awkward to see each other so exposed, however, given the circumstances, you felt incredibly vulnerable. “Can you get my neck a little more?” Jake obliged to your request and moved the soap free suds around your next. It felt surreal, otherworldly even after the last few days. You let the silence fall around you as you reveled in the sensation of Jake's hands roaming your naked body in a not so sexual way. It felt nice to be touched in such a way that made you feel safe. 

“Jake–?” Your voice sounded softer than it did just a few moments ago, your eyes lingered over to the sink where in the corner of your eye, you could see the clippers you’d bought with you to the hospital in preparation for this very moment. Originally you were going to do it yourself, then, you thought perhaps you could ask your mother–but now, sitting under the stream of steady warm water with Jake helping to cleanse your weakened body post surgery– you knew you had to ask him. 

“Yeah Honey?” Jake cooed as he washed your body, being ever so careful to not knock and bump the cords and wires that were still attached to your arms. Doctor Ignatii had assured Jake they could get wet–but he was still sus.  

“Will–will you shave my head?” The silence that followed as deafening as you felt Jake's hands nearly came to a complete stop. “I just–I dont think I'm strong enough to do it myself.” Again, Jake's silence was all consuming. “You don't have to if you don't want to, I uh–i understand if it’s too big of an ask–I can always ask mu–” Before you could go off on a tangent, Jake was interrupting as he came around to kneel before you. 

“No, no Honey, of course I'll help you.” Jake made sure to clarify. “It's just–it's just no one ever prepares you for your wife to ask you to do something like this.” You saw the sadness in Jake's eyes, the understanding and compassion. “But of course, yes, I'll do whatever you need me to and if being your barber is something you need then consider me the best in the biz.” 

Your heart couldn't contain itself inside your chest as you reached out to caress Jake's scruffed cheek. For whatever reason, you couldn't stop the worlds from escaping your lips. 

“I love you–” The Pomegranate truly is the perfect symbol when comparing the differences between men and women. The enjoyment of a pomegranate is something that cannot and shouldn’t be rushed. Instead, it's something that requires patience and gentle hands. With deliberation and commitment comes the reward of its sweet flesh. 

Jake knew it was the environment, the situation and the fear of being slowly taken by disease, but he couldn't help but to lean in, cup your face and kiss you like he’d missed you everyday since you left him back in January. The slow pull of desire ached in Jake's chest as your tongue danced with his: and as he pulled away to let his forehead rest against yours? He allowed himself just a single moment of reprieve: 

“I love you so much Honey–oh so much.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

[duachai]

MR. CORAZÓN - L.TM

I need you to hold it 'til you can't, I'll reward you

PAIRNG : Lee Taemin X Male Reader

SYNOPSIS : M/n, a BPM trainee gets handpicked personally by his idol to be his backup dancer for an upcoming tour. As the two get closer, M/n learns the importance of taking care of his body, and so does Taemin.

CONTENT WARNING : This is just an excerpt of my writings just to get the fingers typing. The full thing will be posted on my Wattpad, but look out for some full writings over here too !

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I'm a part-time college student and writing is my complete life. I will be taking requests here and there, but it is so totally appreciated if you were able to donate to my Kofi and help support me. If you can't that's totally fine and supporting me here and Wattpad is just as appreciated, cheers!

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi

Training under BPM Entertainment wasn’t the easiest career M/n could have chosen. There were so many other options for him. His parents wanted him to be a doctor or lawyer, his school friends were working at restaurants and fast food chains around the city, and others his age aimed for content creators or influencers. But M/n wanted to dance.

Dancing was his calling. His life’s purpose, he would say.

For him, dancing was his stress reliever, something that would make him happy no matter what. That’s why when he found out his biggest inspiration and honestly, his celebrity crush, Lee Taemin, would be signing with his company, he nearly fell out.

“Dude, you know Taemin is coming in today? He’s going to lead our dance class, and oh my God, do you think it’s lame if I ask him to make a TikTok with me?”

M/n chuckled, “You’re so easily impressed, Chanwoo. He’s not even here yet.”

Today, was Taemin’s first day he had free with the new company, and he chose to specifically work with the trainees. And on top of that, it was a rumor some trainees would get promoted to work with him for his re-debut EP.

M/n leaned against the mirror after putting his dance bag off to the side. Nest to him, Chanwoo stretched his arms to prepare himself for class. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, M/n. We could get closer to our favs even faster than it would take for us to debut!”

“It’s just the fast route if you ask me. And it’s probably not permanent,” M/n whined, but even though his words came out nonchalant, he still had a bit of hope in the back of his mind. Maybe this was his break, a chance to get his face out there.

The next hour, the normal dance teacher began proper stretch instruction. For the next half an hour, the talk of Taemin coming dwindled as the end of the class came near. 

“I can’t believe he didn’t come. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that choreo.” Chanwoo whined, stomping his feet and he dragged his body in defeat.

M/n followed behind dragging his feet as he rolled his neck and worked the kinks out of his neck. He wasn’t as nearly disappointed as his friend, but a part of him wished that maybe Taemin would come and check him out, as selfish as it sounded.

“Anyways, where should we go eat today? My mom brought some kimchi this morning, but I’m sick of it.”

“You should be thankful you have a mom to bring you kimchi, Woo.” M/n sulked, head still draped down as he kicked his feet.

“Uh, you might want to pause those lunch plans,” A voice said. M/n looked up and another trainee awkwardly tugged at his hair, “M/n, you’re being summoned.”

Being summoned was one of the nerve-racking things any trainee went through. It only meant a few things. Best case scenario, you were being picked to debut early. Worst was… you were going home.

M/n was in limbo about the reason for his summon as he stood in the elevator alone. Everything he did over the last few weeks was analyzed in his mind. Did he mess up a choreo? Does his body need to be more fit? Was he lagging behind?

His whole head spun and he started to get dizzy. How was he supposed to go back to his parents and explain he got dropped from what they called, “A silly dream.” At the sound of the elevator’s ding, it was time to face his worst fear. Or so he thought.

The hallway to the director’s office seemed longer than any other hallway in the building. M/n rubbed his moist hands on his sweatpants, adjusting his hoodie to seem more neat.

As he stepped to the director’s door, he could see in the glass panel door there were multiple people inside. Then he realized, this wasn’t a demotion party, this was a meeting of some sort.

“M/n?” His name was called out by a familiar voice. His dance teacher.

“Oh, uh, hi,” M/n bowed respectfully, still so very confused.

“What are you doing standing out here, go in!” The teacher rushed a smile on his lips. Either this was a super encouraging way to tell someone they were getting sent home or something bigger was around the corner for M/n.

M/n pushed the door to the room open, now he could see a clear view of the people inside. The director of course at the head of the table, then his wife who was his co-director, a few managers M/n had never met, the dance teacher taking a seat closest to the door, the trainee advisor, and well… Taemin.

M/n froze up, are all these people here to see him? This meeting seemed way too elite for him to even step foot inside.

“Shin M/n, right? Go ahead and sit down,” the director pointed at a seat down the front of the table. A seat right across from the star legend.

M/n spent a few minutes staring at the wooden glossed-over table, a few papers passing down his way. A couple of times he looked up, locked eyes with Taemin then looked away like a startled puppy.

“Okay, so before we get started, how about I let our trainee introduce himself. M/n, go ahead and stand so everyone can see you.”

M/n reluctantly stood up, feeling so small in a room where everyone was looking intently. “Um, Hi, my name is Shin M/n. I’m from the US. And I’ve been a train for about a year and a half now.”

“Ok and, tell us why you want to be a K-pop idol, M/n.”

Hearing this question M/n drew in a sharp breath. He’d answered this question about a hundred times, but now it was all something cringe and mush in his head in a room full of people where it mattered.

But then he realized, he mattered too.

—

“Okay! Run the song back, M/n.”

Hustling toward the Bluetooth speaker to restart the song the fifth time that night, M/n quickly reset the song and then ran back to his starting point. The song started, Taemin’s voice coming in smooth and sultry as the sensual and iconic beat, “Move” filled M/n and his partner’s ears.

They had been practicing the duo choreography for hours now, but the more they attempted the more frustrated his partner, Misun, got at him.

“Fuck it!” Misun let go of M/n and stomped towards the practice room door with his bag, “I don’t care if you don’t get it right, I’ll switch partners. You won’t embarrass me in front of the whole world.”

M/n took in a deep breath, as he pulled his hair. He was frustrated too. Misun had quit on him a thousand times during their time together. But now, their deadline was coming in close and the tour was not far away. The whole thing was just stressful.

Just as he was about to pack up, he heard a knock at the door. Taemin popped his head around the door frame with a smile, “Knock knock.”

“O-Oh, I didn’t know you were here!” M/n said, startled and embarrassed.

Taemin stepped closer to the dancer, “I saw Misun storm out while I was passing by, and wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” M/n lied, thinking that knew that one of his dancers was lacking this skill and was dancing with two left feet after being picked solely for his dancing, he would be upset.

“No, no, you’re lying.” Taemin said with a pout, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

M/n sighed as he took a seat on the floor next to his bags against the mirror, Taemin sitting right next to him.

“Misun and I… just don’t seem like good partners. I know we’re meant to get what we get and don’t throw a fit like the director said, but working with her is like working with an untrained house cat. One day she’s encouraging, the next she’s clawing at me and everything I do.”

Taemin chuckled, “It’s like that. Working with others can be a lottery. But it’s nothing a little resilience can’t handle,” Taemin reached over and covered his hand with M/n’s resting on his knee, “You're a great performer, you hold yourself up better than most. You just have to believe in yourself. Because I already know I do.”

—

Taemin’s words rang in M/n’s head every second. It made him smile maniacally in the middle of conversations. After their talk, Taemin started monitoring M/n and Misun’s practices, making notes, and helping fix some mistakes. After Misun would leave, Taemin and M/n would go out and get food or drinks.

Their relationship grew closer and closer to the point where M/n had to ask himself, was he falling in love with his idol?

The deadline was due. It was the day everyone learned if they were going on tour with Taemin or being left behind. It was yet another nerve-racking day at the studio where everyone gathered to hear the results.

But when the director came in, everyone’s heart was crushed into tiny little pieces.

“Unfortunately, the tour has been canceled,” He announced, everyone’s shoulders slumping as questions started to form in everyone’s mouths. “I know, I know. But it’s impossible to continue on. Taemin was in an accident that sprained his ankle, so he’ll be taking a rest for a few weeks. He might even need a month to get back to his healthy self.”

As everyone whined about the loss of their gig, M/n’s lips pursed at the thought of Taemin being in an accident to cause him this much pain. The whole rest of the day M/n was anxious about Taemin, thinking of ways he could make sure he was alright.

But as he was sulking outside, a manager approached him. “M/n, M/n! Hey, I’ve got a super emergency, but I need to get this food and meds to Taemin. Could you possibly take it to someone else to give it to him?”

It was more like a request because before M/n could respond the bags were in his hand and the manger was off to his car. M/n stood there stumped for a second before smiling, this was his opportunity to go see Taemin.

It took about an hour to convince a staff to let him go see Taemin personally, he made up some bullshit about him being asked specifically to do this task, and if they didn’t help they’d have to answer to the director. It was stupid, but it worked.

M/n’s legs felt like complete jelly as he walked to Taemin’s apartment door. Traveling in Korea was nothing like the US, and even though he spent so much time there already it never felt to humble him as he got winded every time.

While catching his breath he might have accidentally walked into the door because a few moments later, Taemin opened the door slightly to see a hunched-over M/n clutching his chest.

“M/n? Are you okay?”

“Huh?” M/n said instantly lifting and straightening himself up, “What, oh yeah, I’m totally fine! H-Here… medicine.” M/n exclaimed, awkwardly handing Taeming the bags of convenience store foods and painkillers.

Confused, but concerned about M/n, Taemin opened the door more and stepped to the side, “Come in, you look like you could use some AC and water.”

Resting on the couch together, M/n watched as Taemin devoured his meal as if he hadn’t eaten for days. M/n giggled at the food filling in Taemin’s mouth, stuffing his cheeks like a tiny squirrel.

“You’ve got something there,” M/n chuckled, extending his arm over to Taemin’s face as a bit of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. M/n’s thumb swiped over Taemin’s lips to catch the rice. Stunned, Taemin froze as M/n lifted his hand to his own mouth, parted his lips, and sucked the flavor off it.

There was something so sensual about that movement, in Taemin’s mind everything was in slo-mo, M/n eyes gazing right into his almost like a seductive taunt. An invite.

Tempted, Taemin’s arm snaked up to M/n’s wrist and he pushed himself atop of M/n, hands now above him, “Is this what you want?” A shiver ran down M/n’s spine, his question burning his skin up. Is cozying up close with your idol really the move? But at this point, Taemin was more than just a celebrity. He was a muse, a sexy muse. But was this a mistake?

“I want to, I do. I just-”

“Thinking about if people will find out?” Taemin said, cutting out M/n’s concerns for display like he was inside his brain. But Taemin reassured M/n with a kiss on the forehead and a sentence that would change their relationship forever.

“Follow your body, it knows you want my touch.”

It didn’t take long for the two to be stumbling into the bedroom in each other’s arms, sloppy kisses and clothes parting with skin onto the floor.

As Taemin sat M/n down on the bed, his tongue worked around in his mouth as one of his hands lightly tilted the dancer’s chin up, the other wrapped around his neck gently squeezing.

“Look at me, baby,” Taemin sang pulling back away from M/n who whined slightly at the loss of the heat on his lips.

“I got you tonight.”

[psycheetamore]

Another escape, another hunt 

Summary: Our lord has managed to get his Fremen prey into his palace. But she will not succumb to his desires so easily, even if her body wishes to do so. How he loves his game.

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, anticipation of smut, predator/prey - the author regrets nothing

Part 2 of 6 of my contribution to the predator/prey thrope for Kinktober of @lady-phasma - nr 1-4 are chapters of 1 story (1-3 Feyd/OC hunt related, nr 4 is the reward for our lord), and nr 5-6 is me sharing my favourite chapter that I have written to date with the hunt between Rabban/OC. The 6 bits will be posted through daily posts.

Word count: 1.8k

Losely based on chapter 11 of Choosing to Follow Destiny

His slaves were standing outside of his quarters, as the na-Baron sought entrance. 

“Is she readied?” 

“My Lord…” and the slave paused. “My lord, we could not get the cuffs on” as she fell to her knees and started to grovel asking for forgiveness.  

He kicked her to the floor and proceeded: “you are lucky. I am in a good mood.” 

Several minutes ago, the terrified slaves that had dressed the new interest of the lord Harkonnen, locked her up in a separate room in his quarters. It did not take a lot of effort to force the lock. She felt vulnerable, dressed in clothing that did not deserve that word considering how little of her frame it covered and that could be meant only for ladies of the Harkonnen night. Feeling the mark he had left on her neck, which seemed to have been treated. Her braids loosened to have her long black hear flow across her back. Horrible shackles the slaves tried to put on her. She could not allow herself to think what he was planning to do. For her sanity, and to keep control over her physical urges that seemed to long for him. She could still feel his strong fingers gracing her lips. Yet, it could not distract from the recognition that she needed to move. The longer she was in his vicinity, the more difficult it would be to escape.  

Feeling her heart throb in her throat, against the healing wound he had left, she surveyed his chambers for any weapons or other tools that could help her gain some leverage. But it did not come at a surprise that nothing was present. It could not be anything else than that he prepared for roaming around here. Fear started to seep into her bones as she started to understand the gravity of the situation she was facing. The second-best option was looking for heavy blunt objects. Something that could allow her to issue a blow and try to get away. As she was scouring as quickly as she could for such objects, she heard him arrive and talk on the other side of the door. She grabbed a plaid laying over his bed and scooted softly to hide in the darkness next to the door.  

She noticed a body drop and the door opening. This was her one chance. As he walked in, she threw the plaid over his head and pushed him, making room to run away.  

Surprisingly, he was disconnected for a blink of a moment, just enough. She did not wait for a second opportunity, and dashed.  

The hallways were as dark as his room, the night having fallen and scarcely lit. There was no distinction between the left and the right side of the hallway, so intuitively she took off to the left. 

From a distance she heard him shouting: “run. Run as far as you can. Challenge me. We both know you will end up chained to my bed.” Shivers flowed over her back. 

She ran and ran. She should find some light coming from the moons anytime now. That would give her guidance on where to go. It felt like she ran for hours, probably mere minutes. Corridors went up and down. What was this place other than a maze, she thought, completely lost and getting out of breath. Functioning on pure adrenalin she forgot her fatigue and anything else holding her back. She just ran. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming from a corridor she was running towards. With muted steps she backed up against the wall, carefully peaking around the corner. A chance to sip some air, and perhaps more. A guard, dressed in a black Harkonnen uniform, was paroling. He did not seem to be on high alert. Perhaps her escape did not yet reach everyone. She pressed herself against the wall, waiting for the guard to walk past, so she could overtake him. Completely oblivious the guard walked past her. It took her one well-placed kick to the backside of his knees to get him to fall on the ground. He fell on his hands and knees, but it still made a terrible noise. This would surely attract other guards or Feyd-Rautha himself, so she immediately started kicking him to the head, bruising her feet, adrenaline masking the pain it caused. It took a few kicks for him to lay flat on the ground, allowing her to grab the bat and dagger he was carrying. She started to run in the direction he came from. 

After yet another corner she took, she lost the little sense of direction that had remained. But there was no time to worry. 

She continued to run until she abruptly recognised an imposing figure in the shadows from afar. The stance, the body, the clothing: it could be no other than her captor who had spotted her, staring at her with a tilted head and black smile on his face. She stopped, froze for a second, turned around and started running the other way around. Even with her newly acquired weapons she was aware that she would hardly be a match for him in these circumstances. 

Feyd-Rautha chuckled. Feisty and spirited. He was happy to see that she lived up to his expectations. He did anticipate she would free herself from the first room, and try to make a run for it. There was a reason he did not bring guards. He had, however, imagined that he would be able to keep her in, as he had carefully removed all sharp and heavy objects. A true fighter he was dealing with. And, by god, she even managed to obtain some weapons. Lovely. She clearly had not given up just yet, just like he asked.

His hunter instinct was kick-started by seeing her flee away. How he loved a game like this. With his longer legs, boots, and overall better condition, it did not take too long before she was within an arm's reach of him. 

She heard him gaining distance on her. His footsteps grew closer and closer. She gave it her all. She needed to outrun him. Her heart was throbbing in her throat from exhaustion. She needed to push through. Or find a way out. But where? No tangible options presented themselves. A sudden ambush perhaps. Short term, but still. 

He was just steps away from her, she could hear it. She decided to push for a last final sprint, to get him to speed up as much as possible, allowing her to suddenly divert her track and use his momentum against him. In the process, she managed to dart around him, while brushing the dagger across his arm. Now standing behind him, he turned to face her. Wearing his evening clothing, but still with boots and a belt with weapons, he showed her the blood on his fingers, which came from the wound she inflicted. Yet another wound he would have her repay.

“It is a dangerous game you play, little one. I have killed for smaller offences” he said menacingly, although his face gave away the joy he felt. "How is my mark on your neck feeling?"

“Kill me” she taunted. “Let's get this over with.” 

“No” he answered. “We both know I won't do that. You are far too lovely to meet such an end. In any case not such a quick end” as he grabbed a knife from his belt in a leisurely pace. He started to walk towards her, shifting his head from left to right, seeing straight through hear face into the inner workings of her brain.

She tried to maintain their distance by moving back as he closed in on her. But there was only so much space, as she was backed against the wall.  

He tigered around her, managing to get her into a corner. “Your strike, lovely lady. I will give you one strike” as he invited her through a gesture to come at him.  

She looked in his eyes and saw darkness. This was a dangerous man, with dangerous games. He was in control. Her only way out would be to disarm him, and hold him hostage until she could get out.  

She decided to make a go for it. Holding the club in her right hand and the dagger in her left hand, her strategy would be to get him to focus on her left hand, lose the club, switch the dagger to her other hand and strike.  

But her eyes gave her away. As she tried to execute this plan, he knew what was coming. He had seen every step that she had anticipated, and before she knew it, his hard chest, just covered with an evening tunic, had pinned her against the wall. She could feel his heart beat through the nothings they both wore. She could feel the heat flowing from his body to hers, as he kept her legs in check by pushing one of his between hers. His growing groin pressed against her bottom. Her body started to respond involuntarily, creating the moisture he craved. Forcing her hand to open, he managed to release the remaining weapon and kick it away. Only now did he turn her to face him, while holding her shoulders with an iron grip. 

She tried to kick him, causing him to push his entire body against hers to keep her still. As response, she pushed her hands on his upper arms. His strength was felt as she was pinned against the wall. His solid arms, his muscular torso, the growing excitement in his nether regions. It caused a further growing excitement in her nether regions as well, the likes of which she had never encountered before.  

“Why do you resist me? You belong here. You want to be here. You want to kneel before me and take everything I have to give to you.” Vile, tainted words came out of his mouth as honey, while his lips touched her neck and ears. He started to kiss, nibbling on her ears, allowing his warm tongue to roam over the ridges of the wound that was sure to become a scar from her ear to her shoulder, claiming her, marking her as his, while holding her head still. “Don't resist” he said with a chanting voice, feeling how her breathing located to the top of her chest. With nearly nothing covering her, she started to fear he would feel the warmth and wetness radiating from her body onto the leg that he had positioned so strategically against her most sensitive area. He wrapped his arms around her back to press her against him, as he softly bit on her neck. “Don't resist. Succumb to me” he continued to chant. He felt she was slipping away, as if her legs were not providing support anymore. 

“I can't” a small voice said with a deep sigh. His mouth on these sensitive areas, his vicinity, all the vile words that had left his sculpted mouth; she started to loose control. Breathing more heavily and rapidly, which he could feel through his chest that still forced her against the wall. 

He knew she was starting to break. All it took was a bit of affection. It was quicker than he had anticipated.  

He softly replied: “you can. And you will” as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Pinching her bottom, awfully near her core with a mind of its own, he said: “you want to submit to me.” 

+++

Next parts listed on my pinned post

[katoska]

Ok, I know shippers are having a ball with the "psychic link" line, but personally, I don't think it's needed to explain Betelgeuse's new smoopyness (+ I don't like magic-induced/fated love, but you do you).

My personal theory is that Lydia subconsciously hit "block" on him so she can pretend he's gone forever. This is imo substantiated by the fact that she can't/won't see Richard - who's body was never found, and whose death was thus deniable as long as she did not see his ghost - either.

And while Richard was ok with not being seen because he was the kind of chill guy who would be satisfied with seeing his family to make sure they were ok, Betelgeuse... is not that kind of guy.

Betelgeuse is a huge drama queen who wants ALL the attention. He wants acknowlegdement. He's the ghost with the most, and you better not forget it.

So, imagine how he must have felt the first time Lydia showed up in a house he'd been hired to haunt ...and did not acknowledge him. Did not see him, didn't seem to see the monster he turned into that still had his face, nothing stripey or funny or with any of that personal touch seemed to register. Flying books, rattling cutlery, cold spots, all that boring generic stuff she could see, but nothing Juice-y.

He'd get fucking obsessed with making her notice him.

Which would mean making sure that he's there the next time she investigates another haunting, or luring her in by making a house look spectacularly haunted (coming to see her mere presence as a reward for a job well done in the process). And maybe, anytime a client forgot to banish him (do they even all get told how to do that?), he might have, if he was close enough, managed to drop in on her outside work, try to catch her off-guard. Which would mean getting awareness of her personal problems, again, and feeling empathy for her, again.

Cause I think that's the main emotion he felt for her back when she was a weird and unusual, deeply lonely, overty suicidal teen. I believe that very creepy tone he used when talking about "Edgar Alan Poe's daughter" was there to mask the fact that he was feeling sorry for her and felt a kinship with her because his existence also sucked. Cause, like, he's got a reputation to uphold, he can't be seen caring about some Breather's feelings or be seen relating to them unironically.

Except in this movie, Betelgeuse seemed to be in a far better headspace (while Lydia very much was not), so when he realised he still cared about her feelings, he couldn't put it down to projection. He had to acknowledge that he'd become attached. I headcanon that he figured out just how attached he'd gotten shortly after she started seeing Rory, cause... ok, hands up: Who else here, when watching the movie, had the thought "Wow, Rory sucks! She'd have been better off with Betelgeuse." Like, idc if you ship Beetlebabes or not, it's just objectively true that Betelgeuse would be the better option (even if you only think that's because the bar's in hell). I think that same thought would have crossed B's mind, too, upon which he'd have his "Oh. Oh. Oh shit" moment. He later made sure that Lydia too would become aware just how goddamn shitty Rory was, and he technically did not need to do that because Lydia already did not want to marry Rory, but y'know, it'd make B look better in her eyes if he made her aware of and helped her dodge this particular bullet.

Though actually, maybe this had been strategically unwise. Only if Betelgeuse had really planned on coercing Lydia into marriage ofc, which I don't buy in the first place. But for argument's sake: If Betelgeuse hadn't given Rory that truth serum, Lydia could have used the demon deal as a non-confrontational escape from her engagement. Which would have made her less inclined to pull any tricks to get out of her marriage with B, because even if she escaped him there would still be Rory. Ok yeah, Rory eventually got eaten by a Sandworm, but B couldn't have predicted that. But, speaking as a Code 699 truther (tldr: B knew the contract would be voided but either hoped Lydia would marry him anyway, or the whole song and dance was just about him wanting to declare his feelings), he could have predicted his marriage contract being voided. Though personally, I have doubts that Astrid would have been as quick to speak up if Lydia hadn't broken up with Rory and Rory hadn't got eaten.

[writingseaslugs]

Pomefiore: Pocky Game

Fun Fact: In most dorms I go in order of House Warden, Vice Warden, then I go based on year (so for Heartlabyul it goes Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce). The only exception to this rule is Pomefiore. I save Rook for last every single time. It’s like a reward to get to write him.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Pomefiore: Pocky Game

Apparently, no matter what world you end up in, there will always be some delicious biscuit coated in chocolate that comes in a stick form. You discovered it one lovely day when shopping for some snacks at Sam’s, and the moment you noticed them, you grabbed several boxes. They were a delicious treat, but there was something else you wanted to do with them. You chuckled as you got home, putting the bag down and grabbing your phone, messaging a certain someone if they wanted to hang out and have snacks.

“Hey, henchman!” Grim said, crawling onto the counter and going through the bags of snacks and other miscellaneous groceries you two needed for the week, “Did you get my tuna?” he said before pulling out a box of pocky, “Oh, what's this?”

“They’re pocky, and you’re not allowed to eat them all. I bought plenty of boxes. You can have one, but the rest are mine.” You said, knowing that Grim would certainly steal more than one box. He opened it up and took a bite, humming at the taste before going to scarf the entire box down. You just sighed, shaking your head in disappointment. He went to snag another box, and you didn’t have the heart to stop him.

You felt your phone buzzing and checked it, seeing you got confirmation for snacks and chill. You chuckled, grabbing two boxes and stashing them in your coat pocket as you started to get ready to head out, “Grim, I’m heading out. Please unload the groceries…your tuna is in one of the bags.” You said, gesturing to the small pile. Grim perked up, deciding to just tear through them until he got what he wanted.

“Whatever you say, henchman!” Grim said, not bothering to ask where you’re going.

“Aaaaaaand?” You trailed off, wanting him to give you a proper answer.

“I’ll do the groceries…” Grim said, and you hummed another ‘and?’ at him. “Aaaaaand thank you for the tuna,” he finally said. With that, you grabbed your house keys and began making your way over to Pomefiore.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was waiting at the door for you, a small smile playing on his perfectly painted lips, “Welcome in, prefect, I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting.” he said and you smiled, walking into his room. You looked around, noticing a few scripts sitting neatly on his wardrobe with a few makeup brushes in cleaner.

“Thanks for having me over, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You said, looking around the room. Nothing else was out of place, so you assumed he was just rehearing and getting a few chores done.

“Not at all, I was planning on taking a break soon anyway. Now, may I ask what you’ve brought?” Vil asked, looking over at your clothes. You had just tossed on a heavy coat and you could tell he was judging the appearance of it. Vil was known for sometimes tossing more expensive and fashionable clothes your way, always saying he got it in a sponsorship or modeling job and he didn’t need it. You had an odd feeling that you’d be leaving with a new coat tonight with how much he hated what you were wearing.

“We call them pocky where I’m from.” You said, taking the snacks out of your pocket. Vil hummed, taking the snacks and placing them by the desk before walking behind you and helping you take off the coat. He hung it up on his coat rack before sitting down on his bed. You quickly joined him, snack in hand.

“What are they?” Vil asked, inspecting the box you handed him. You made sure to grab the dark chocolate one for him since it was technically the healthier option.

“Just a sweet treat.” You said, watching his nimble fingers pop open the box and grab a stick out. He looked it over before turning to you.

“I don’t normally indulge in sweets, you know this.” Vil pointed out. You frowned before getting an idea.

“Then how about indulging in a traditional game with them?” You asked, Vil was now interested. You quickly explained the rules of the pocky game to him and he seemed almost smug that you’d come to him for this game.

“A kissing game? I must admit, it is a rather smart way to market a plain snack like this. No wonder they were so popular where you came from.” he said as he spun the stick around. He then placed it against your lips, “I’ll play this game of yours.”

You couldn’t stop the silly grin on your face as you opened your mouth and took one end in. He placed his lips on the other end and, gracefully nibbling on it. You felt his lips brush against your own before he snagged the last piece and pulled away. He covered his mouth, as well as the mischievous grin on his face.

Your lips formed a pout as he began speaking, “It appears I’ve won…why do you look so sad?” he teased, “I thought you just wanted to play the game. If you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve said so sooner.”

Your words were caught in your throat, as your face began heating up. He had so easily caught on and you felt his hand cup your chin to force you to look at him. He then leaned in, giving you a proper kiss, though it was still too short. You found yourself chasing after him when he left your lips, “My, you sure are insatiable today.” he noted at the desperate look in your eyes, “It appears I am as well.” He said before leaning back in.

Rook Hunt

You don’t know why you were so shocked when you opened the door to Ramshackle and saw Rook standing there. You only had a mini heart attack before noticing he had his arm out, “Now what kind of man would I be if I didn’t escort you?” he asked, relishing in your surprised look.

“Were you around the area…how’d you get here so fast?” You asked and Rook chuckled as he felt you wrapping a hand around his arm. He began walking alongside you to the hall of mirrors.

“My, I just happened to have heard a bird's song and was drawn to it. When I got the message from you, I knew it was meant to be, it had called me out to walk you to the dorm.” He explained and you huffed. Of course he wouldn’t give you an actual answer, when did he ever answer something normally?

“I’m sure that’s exactly what happened.” You chuckled, walking through the mirror and to the Pomefiore dorm. He traversed the halls easily, even while he looked at you.

“Are you doubting me, mon amour?” Rook said, causing you to blush at his nickname for you. It always felt so intimate when he called you that.

“A touch…” You murmured as you two walked into his room.

“You wound me.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. His smile told you another story though, clearly he found it amusing.

“I hope you’re not too wounded, I still have a snack to share with you.” You said, bringing out the box, “And a game.”

“A game? Please, do tell.” Rook said, taking the box and looking it over. The snack didn’t look too impressive, but the aspect of playing a game with it had him leaning closer to you. You quickly went over the rules of the game and Rook was now very interested.

“A game between lovers?” he said, taking one of the sticks out of the box, “And you’ve chosen to play with me?”

“Well, it can be played with friends as well…” You said, hoping he wouldn’t reject the idea.

“A splendid game, come, let’s play.” he said, placing one end of the stick in his mouth. He held it for you and you quickly took the other end. You both began nibbling on it until Rook’s lips clashed against your own in a sweet kiss. He wasn’t shy about deepening it. He placed a hand on the small of your back and kept you there.

He hummed into the kiss, loving how your lips molded with his own. He parted for a brief moment to tell you as much, before going back in. Your hands found their way over his shoulders as he supported most of your weight in your breathless liplock. When you bit down gently on his lower lip he groaned. The sound shot a shiver right up your spine.

You two parted, panting a bit with a small string of saliva break between you two, “My little petit renard, if you keep this up, I won’t be able to hold myself back.” he warned you.

“Perhaps that’s what I’m hoping for…”

Epel Felmier

Epel was waiting outside the dorm when you came over; his entire body perked up as seeing you. He quickly made his way over, grabing your arm, “Hey, how about instead of staying here, we find somewhere else to have snacks.” You could see the desperate look in his eyes. He didn’t even need to say anything to know that Vil would be out for his neck if he found you two snacking.

“Alright, fine. Where do you wanna go?” You asked, letting him lead you to the hall of mirrors. You were expecting him to drag you to Ramshackle, but soon you found yourself in the school’s giant courtyard. It was quiet at this time of night, and students weren’t out and about.

“They won’t look for us here.” Epel said proudly as he sat down on one of the benches. You couldn’t help but laugh as you sat beside him.

“Vil running you through the wringer again?” You asked, pulling the snacks out of your pocket. You handed him one and Epel didn’t even bother looking at it, just opening it up as he leaned onto the bench more.

“He wanted to show me this new body scrub that smelled like flowers. Apparently I should smell sweet, but I prefer muskier smells.” Epel said, taking one of the snacks into his mouth, “Man, it’s been a while since I’ve had these.”

“You’ve had these before?” You asked, wondering if perhaps the snack was more popular than you thought.

“Ya, one of my cousins brought them before after visiting the city. He said he found them at a store and they looked good.” Epel said as he ate another.

“These were popular back where I used to live.” You noted, “We even played games with them.” You said, quickly explaining the pocky game. Epel looked curious before a smirk appeared on his lips. He placed one end in his mouth and offered the other to you.

You were more than happy to play, nibbling on the stick before your lips connected with his. You two stayed like that for a moment, your lips moving in sync with one another before you finally pulled away.

“I like this game…want to play another round?” Epel asked, grabbing another stick.

“Honestly, I think I’d rather just makeout with you.” You finally decided on, after a quick pause. Epel’s eyes widened and you noticed the faint blush on his cheeks. He then smiled before pulling you into another quick kiss.

“I think I’d rather do this too.” he said against your lips before going back in for more.

Are you a fan of Diasomnia like me? I bet you are if you read my content (we love the boys in this household). Want to support a visual novel that will feature Diasomnia dorm, has multiple routes and endings, as well as some spicy visual scenes? Check out @twstfournights and if you want info, check out their announcement post!

[gemmahale]

Lessons from taking a work-week hiatus from Tumblr:

Realization 1: I was more productive at work. Lots of downtime I was filling with Tumblr instead of doing other small things to make my life easier. (I was also choosing Tumblr over uh…returning phone calls. 😅)

Plan: Going to blacklist it on my browser and make it a reward at break intervals with a set time limit. Focus on my paid job first, hobbies second.

Realization 2: I don’t need notifs on. I don’t need to know about reblogs or likes; it prompts me to clear the bubble and distracts me. I can pull the notif screen up when I want to look.

Plan: Leave them on for select types of notifs. Limit the push notifs on my phone. Possibly remove the icon from the Home Screen to reduce temptation (make it extra steps to access).

Realization 3: I miss my friends. I felt a severe amount of FOMO on Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday when Talk Shop, WIP Wed and the tag game came around. (I peeked, okay? I’m only human.)

Plan: ….still working on this. Pre-set my posts, jump in when I am on breaks, probably. Check in on specific people to see what I’ve missed and engage with them when I’m able.

Summary: Even though I had external contact for most folks, I felt like I had been put in time-out. I was pouty about not being “allowed” to log in.

For what? ….it’s complicated in my head. But I have been dedicating too much time to Tumblr when I should be doing other things. It was the “easier” option - endlessly scroll, see good ideas, be inspired, etc.

I was frustrated at a number of things: the consumptive culture of Tumblr, some jack-wagons harassing people I consider my friends, and that persistent voice that’s been in the back of my head since I was young whispering “you don’t belong”.

Could I tell you what fueled that voice to get louder this time? Not anymore. But when I decided to take a breather, I was worried no one would care. That I’d become a lost ephemera of Tumblr, friendships forged becoming forgotten and withered. (Obviously, that’s not true, and that brain worm has evidence against it now, suckah. It’s always had evidence, dumbass.)

Anyway, I’m back. Nothing of this sort is new to me, none of this is earth-shattering and record-breaking. I KNOW these things, I just needed a reminder.

[marcynomercy]

Fate written in blood

I have a doubt, do you think the narrative is running? Something very shallow? Please tell me that I will improve the writing.

Thank you @tragedybunny for beta-reading.

Summary: The blood has always been her way until the day that fate changed, After being kidnapped by mind flayers and the fall of the Nautiloid Calamity had a new opportunity for freedom and strangely her fate crossed with that of Astarion when the elf put that dagger around her neck. 

 Their fate until now was written by others, but now they would write with their own hands in blood. 

Warnings: Violence, blood, game events, mentions of trauma, distress/comfort, mention of abuse, flashback of torture. (That’s it for now)

Ship: Astarion and Calamity (Tav), Shadowheart and Carniex (Tav), mentions of other characters.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.

Chapter 2 - Pleasant cold

They got up early and left the camp to continue their search, Calamity had previously planned their actions and done it in a way that they could readjust quickly if something during the day changed the plans. It was  something she learned in her work. Never rely on a single plan, always have options and anticipate possible setbacks.

 So first she decided to go behind the place that had the letter she found in that hidden Kagha chest. The Grove didn’t seem to be a bad place to have as a "resource" and it was a safe place, so it would be very bad if it was closed because of that ritual of thorns. Doing so earned them a fight with some guardians, but that was no big deal as the answers were worth it.

"Oh, apparently Kagha was really getting involved with who shouldn’t be." Calamity hummed with a satisfied smile on her lips.

"So... what are you planning?" Astarion asked, annoyed. 

"Something that benefits us in the long term until we find this Halsin." She replies holding onto the letter. "Now let’s continue and take a look at the temple that was infested by goblins. It would be good to take a look to make sure what we will face when the time comes."

 They were relatively close to the site so it wasn’t a problem, just before entering the ruined village they found the group of adventurers who were in the Grove before whose leader was the same guy that Calamity had punched. After a little dialogue with him and getting the information about a reward for a treasure called "Night Song" they made their way to that temple. The first time she used the tadpole’s powers was in the entryway  with the goblins by reading one of their minds and using that to get in smoothly.Then in a few steps before crossing a bridge they fell to the ground being crushed by a terrible power and a voice that oppressed them demanding obedience. They managed to get rid of it thanks to the artifact that Shadowheart carried. 

 Shadowheart was revealed to be a follower of Shar at this point Being honest, Calamity didn’t really care much for it, only worried about the artifact. What was he? Why did Shar want him? Because he could protect them? Who were those people in the vision they had? What did it all mean? Without these answers she could only rely on the cleric oath to keep this artifact safe even if it cost her life.

 They passed through the party and the guards, the temple desecrated with the goddess statues broken and destroyed, that yielded depressive and sarcastic comments from Shadowheart now that she felt more free to express her beliefs. A goblin was branding the followers with hot iron and turned to them with a certain enthusiasm. She called them "True Soul" and offered the brand - something that was immediately denied. Then a familiar sensation, darkness seems to swallow the temple, leaving them with a vision of the goblin priestess, receiving instruction from a handsome young man. One of the Chosen… The vision dissolves away. They stand before the goblin priestess in the temple once again, Calamity severed the connection abruptly, now she knew that this goblin also carried the parasite.

 She said something about shadows in her mind and offered to help.

"That’s a bit particular..."  Calamity replied.

"Of course we go to my chapel, where it is private, we don’t let others interfere in the dealings between us True Souls."

 They followed her to the place, the door was closed and the priestess called them closer.

"Ready to clear your mind?"

 Until that moment everyone thought that Calamity would make the stupid decision to trust this goblin, Astarion himself was rolling his eyes at the situation.

"Actually, I changed my mind..." Calamity smiled sweetly saying these words calmly and in the blink of an eye her hand moved and the goblin’s throat was cut. "I’m gonna kill you now."

 The priestess fell to the ground,blood gushed, and everyone was staring at the atrocious scene. And when she pulled that blade? The most disturbing was the smile she kept on her lips, a sweet and innocent smile that became disturbing in this situation. Astarion was perplexed by the way she hid her murderous intent, none of them realized, HE did not notice. 

 "True Souls, they’re infected like us but think they’re thinking talking to a god." she commented, rifling through the goblin’s body.

"Was this the intended destination for us? Blessed in ignorance to think we could talk to a God? What joke of bad taste..." He mocked angry in the end.

 When the priestess tadpole abandoned her body everyone was disgusted, but this power... her body moved on its own from the influence of the tadpole. Calamity just accepted it and kept the tadpole for now. She knew she should not trust this, should not accept, but at the same time, something within her wanted this power and desired more. Unfortunately they could not go very far after finding the secret passage, they began to feel some symptoms and preferred to take a rest at the camp. The heavy air, the sweat and the sore fingertips.

That was not good. 

 Lae'zel attacked Calamity by putting a dagger around her neck saying they were transforming. Everyone told her to put down the blade and stop it. Tempers began to flare, mixed with pain, fear, despair and distrust. Calamity’s head hurt again... she hated this atmosphere, this feeling. She was drowned in the same for many years and now everything could end up that way. No, she wouldn’t let me.

  She used the tadpole to spy on Lae'zel’s mind and felt the uncertainty and disgust. She used it to convince her that it was just a fever and that it would pass with a rest. 

"Gah, I don’t trust my own mind. So I think I should trust yours. I will wait. But know this I will be watching. If the sickness does not pass, come dawn... I will end us all." 

That threat was a beautiful knot in the stomach for everyone and that night was difficult. But then a figure appeared in her dreams... with the face of her brother.

 The dream visitor was wearing his face and said he was protecting her, this was a very low blow to her as she only trusted him briefly because of the face he was wearing. He promised that when she woke up she would be better and... really he did not lie. More questions hit her mind and when talking to all her companions the stories hit, same dream same message. 

 Unmasking Kagha was easy and quick, getting rid of the shadow druids was simple and with that they ensured the Grove as a safe point. Calamity talked to the druids about Halsin who had not yet found him, but did not believe he was dead . Her suspicions were that he would  be stuck somewhere in that lair since if they had killed a druid who could turn into a bear the least they could do was have his head was stuck on  a spear and displayed as a trophy. 

 Astarion remembered the scene from the previous day, the way she kept that same pleasant and calm expression while slicing the goblin’s throat. The slight smile drawn on her lips, the smile she was now using to be friendly to the druids and the tieflings... he was impressed how vile she could be and still maintain the appearance of "good girl". 

"We chose a wolf in sheep’s clothing as leader." He commented.

"I don’t think it’s bad, I even like this side of her is practical and makes people lower their guard easily." Shadowheart argued, watching her too. "And she doesn’t really seem like a bad person."

"No?" Astarion questioned.

"Look at her well." Gale said watching her talking to the children. "She saved that girl from Kagha, that boy from the harpies  and was being kind to the others Look into her eyes, see the compassion reflected in her and that’s something you can’t fake Astarion."

  Astarion said nothing more, really she had this compassionate look at that moment while interacting with the children and he became even more confused. How could a killer like her have such a side? Be so ruthless and at the same time so kind.

 The village seemed to have good resources and while exploring ordinary conversations became natural.

"So Calamity, do you have  some love waiting for you in the city?" Shadowheart asked humorously.

"I don’t have time for romance." It was an anticlimactic response for the group.

"Really? So who were you looking for?" Astarion asked curious. "It was impossible not to notice you scouring the rubble of the fall."

"I was looking for my twin brother, we separated before I was kidnapped, and maybe he was taken too, but after not finding him I think he was lucky not to have been taken."

"Or in the worst case, he is one of those ignorant people we meet." Astarion replied, hardly interested.

"Hope that’s not the case." Calamity warned. " My brother is as skilled as I am and much more brutal. Even I would have trouble facing him in a fight... and I would hate that." Her voice became a weaker tone and had a lot of regret, her feelings were clear. 

"It’s understandable, twin ties are often very strong I can only imagine how painful it must be for you to be in that position." Gale laid his hand on her shoulder and even though it was barely noticeable, Astarion saw the way she trembled even for a second in aversion to touch.

"Thank you, Gale, well let’s hope he’s had better luck."

Unfortunately not everything was quiet after all. A devil appeared, playing his game with rhymes of a poem and dragging them to a banquet hall.

"Great now I have a devil in my pocket? Continue with your rhymes and offerings, I will never accept." Calamity was firm in her words. 

"Still, I’ve a feeling you’ll change your mind before it’s changed for you. Try to cure yourself. Shop around - beg, borrow, and steal. Exhaust every possibility util none are left. And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair - that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door. Hope. Hahaha! Such a tease."

"Keep dreaming about it, no matter how much despair I’m in, even if it’s death before me, I’ll NEVER make a pact with you." The certainty she had in her words and in her eyes made everyone be impressed, even Raphael.

"Hahahaha, I’ve heard those words before and only one was true to them... hum."  He approached her and held her chin to better see her face. 

 The way Raphael looked at her, that he looked in the back of his eyes as if he were spying on his soul. Calamity pushed him in disgust.

"What an interesting twist."

"Are you done with your silly little game?" she mocked.

"I believe your words, but what if it was to save someone else? Your brother perhaps?" Calamity was losing patience to the point of moving her  hand to pull her sword.

 Astarion was faster and held her wrist.

"Are you crazy?! Think well before you act." He warned as he received an angry look from her.

" What a sad situation perhaps I should do a little favor."

"Leave him out of this devil! You made your offer and I denied it!"

"For now." Raphael, with a gesture, teleported them back to the village and the group looked in.

 Calamity was very upset, that devil quoted her brother and he was right... If it were for him, she would make a pact without hesitation.

"Now there’s a bloody devil trailing after us? This gets better and better." Astarion commented angrily.

 I think he wants something from us. Badly. " Gale commented thoughtfully and worried.

"Sure he does, but apparently he’s devoted special attention to our dear Calamity."

"No matter. We’ve dealt with every other oddity thrown at us lately - we can handle this one too. Now, as for this “Raphael”... He knows our secret, he claims he can help… what do you make of him?" Shadowheart asked.

"We don’t trust him, simple!" Calamity responded adamantly. 

"No doubts at all? Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. He’s clever, my order uses the same tactic when dealing with enemies of Shar. You don’t need a scourge or a rack to break people. Fear and self-doubt are sufficient. When actual pain comes, the victim’s already done the heavy lifting for their torturer. There were no right answers with that devil. He was toying with his food - us."

"I didn’t realise you were so… well-versed in mental and emotional torment. It’s a good thing to know."

"And it seems that you are very familiar with this, did not doubt and did not hesitate even though you lost the line by having your brother cited."

"What can I say, part of the trade. I just... Never mind, we need to focus on the current goal and prepare to kick a devil’s ass if we have to." 

 Back at the camp after an exhausting day, Raphael returned to Calamity’s mind. Her concern was turned to her brother but maybe Raphael is the least of the problems, two days... she had been missing for two days. What would they be doing with him now?

 Were they torturing him? Or worse? 

 The best chance is he’s chained up in his room... Shadowheart is right, fear and doubt is sufficient. She was too thoughtful even now in front of the fire listening to the conversation of her companions, her attention was not really there.

"So we’ve all talked a little bit about ourselves at least enough for this group to work." Astarion said looking at Calamity. "But our leader hasn’t said much yet Sorry darling, but I think it won’t hurt to say a little bit."

She stared at him but without any hostility and sighed.

"Well, what can I say? I’m an assassin in Baldur’s Gate... I’m part of the Assassin’s Guild, being more specific."

Astarion raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"Are you referring to the Assassin’s Guild of underworld city? The one that clashes with the Thieves Guild over business?" 

She agreed with a nod.

"Me and my brother... well they called us Black Dogs."

 Silence. 

 Astarion stared at her in shock, even he had heard of them. A pair of terrible assassins who accept any job, the nickname came on account of their unwavering loyalty to the Guild Masters. Without question, without hesitation, they did the work, and it was always so bloody that even the cultists of Bhaal were impressed.   

"You are very different than I imagined." Astarion broke the silence.

"I don’t appear to be someone with blind loyalty? Of course not, I was bound to be so. They recruited us when we were very young, we had no other option to survive and they took advantage of that. They trained us, tortured us, they no longer wanted subordinates with ambitions and opinions of their own." She laughed. "No... They wanted dogs that would obey any order without complaining or hesitating. And that would be happy with it, well that last part we learned to pretend very well. Funny, it was thanks to all this confusion I finally managed to think more clearly for myself after years... I ruined the night apparently, I’m going back to my tent." She got up and left.

 It was dark, she was back in that place, chained to the wall. She was facing the floor... what are they going to do with her?

"Hello little girl." A dark-haired elf entered the room and stood in front of her. " Look at me!" He ordered and she obeyed. "Much better, you know you’re going to be punished for letting that child escape, right?"

 Right, they were ordered to kill a noble family of the city... all of them without exception, but when she saw that crying child cowering in a corner felt pity and guilt, she helped that child escape.

"Can we get started?" A Drow entered the room dragging her twin brother with her.

"B-Brother? Wait! I WAS THE ONE WHO MADE THE MISTAKE! I SHOULD BE PUNISHED! PLEASE LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!" She pleaded, begged in tears.

"Oh my dear doll..." the elf bent down and held her face. "It wouldn’t be an effective punishment if I just beat you or tortured you, no...  it hurts you much more if he suffers." She was trembling in despair.

 The Drow chained the half-elf boy facing Calamity so that she would be able to see his face perfectly while he was tortured in her place.

"Caly, don’t worry, it’s okay." Her brother tried to comfort her, but then he screamed in pain as he felt  the flesh of his back being torn by Drow’s blade.

 The first cut was made slow and very precise.

"NO!" She fought, pulling the chains that bound her arms. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

 It did not help, the Drow continued cutting him slowly and agonizing. He screamed at every cut scratching his back while his sister was forced to watch and see his face in pain. 

"See? Your brother is suffering because YOU made a mistake! You are to blame for his suffering, every cut of his back is your fault!" The elf grabbed and pulled her hair, forcing her to keep her eyes on the scene.

"Brother... Carnifex... Carn... forgive me..." She cried his name as she watched the torture. "FORGIVE ME PLEASE!" 

 

Calamity woke up with a suffocating a scream. It was just a nightmare... a nightmare and a memory. 

 She wiped the sweat from her face and sighed heavily... hell. He may be suffering again that same way alone now, and it’s her fault... it’s always gonna be her fault. 

 "Carnifex my brother... You forgive me, don’t you?"

 She got up and left the tent. Looking around, it seemed that everyone was still sleeping. She walked quietly to the river near the camp and felt that near the shore, the water reflecting the night sky was a calm sight for a disturbed mind. 

 After that day that she watched her brother being tortured she never dared to have mercy on anyone... even if it was a child. 

 She was tired, but  didn’t feel like sleeping anymore, so she just took off her boots and put her feet in the water, it was cold but pleasant. Calamity hugged her knees and took advantage of the calm and cold sensation of the water against her skin. 

"Oh... I didn’t expect you to be awake." It was Astarion’s voice, but she didn’t move. 

 Astarion had gone hunting and decided to come down to the river to wipe his face that could be stained with blood. But he did not expect to find Calamity huddled by the river.

   Honestly, he didn’t know what to think about her, but he had thought a little about what she said. She was shaped to be someone without opinions or ambitions of her own, practically an object so to speak... it irritated him. Now seeing her shrunk there without saying anything, out of curiosity he approached her and saw her eyes full of tears.

"Are you crying...?" he asked, surprised.

"Me? Crying?" She hadn’t even noticed the tears running from her eyes. "Oh... It’s been years since I’ve cried."

 Shit... she looked so helpless. 

 The expression so sweet and sad, but her eyes were empty and cold as a doll... it could drive someone crazy. 

"Astarion... Are you a vampire?" He froze.

"Why the question, dear?" He was sweating cold.

"Well... I don’t see your reflection." She replied tone innocent, as she pointed to the water.

 Unbelievable, he was caught by such an oversight because he lowered his guard to this vulnerable face?! He had to agree with Shadowheart, Calamity had a knack for keeping people off guard.

"Don’t worry, I won’t kill you." She declared at last.

"Excuse me?" he continued, perplexed.

"I have no intention of killing you, Astarion." She stated again with the same empty look and innocent expression.

 He just laughed it off.

"Hahahaha, gods... you really are a figure, dear Calamity." He sat next to her. "What will you have in return?"

"Pardon?" she tilted her confused head.

"Well, you’ll lie secret in exchange for what?"

"Nothing."  She answered automatically.

 Shock again, impossible! She wanted something, everyone always wanted something!

"Don’t be shy, darling, I know you want something." He insisted.

"I don’t want anything." She replied again.

 He looked into her eyes and saw nothing, ulterior motives, malice, lies... nothing but emptiness.

"You..." He held her face and kept looking into her eyes.

 Was that it? She was broken?

"Do you really not want anything? Even after being free?" 

"I want to remain free, and I want my brother to be free too, I want nothing more than that." This could not even be seen as ambition. 

"Gods below... I really thought you’d have some ambition, apparently I’ll have to teach you to be a little more ambitious." Her eyes lit up with these words.

 She looked like an innocent puppy.

 Calamity leaned back a little from his touch and wet her hands in the water and then wiped his face.

"Your face was a little bloody." She explained quickly, and then she held his face gently. "I like the touch of your skin, it’s cold and pleasant like river water."

 Was she serious? Few would say that the skin of an undead is something pleasant, but her words were so genuine and innocent. What was that feeling? For some reason he wanted to take care of her, why?

Well that’s it! Thank you for reading the second chapter.

@spacebarbarianweird @spacesquidlings@thechaoticdruid @vixstarria

Who wants to be tagged in the next chapters please tell me in the comments.

[blam-marie]

Hey tumblr have a look at this scene and let me know what you think about it please thanks :)

IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL, Chapter 01

Tristan Jones stared out of the café windows at the cruise ship moored at the docks with the same unnerved trepidation he imagined straight people must feel, just before they married someone they would proceed to jokingly call ’the ball and chain’ in their wedding vows. He didn’t want to get on the ship. He was going to, and he had been reliably informed that he was expected to have a good time while on it, but he personally remained dubious that such a good time could be achieved.

For one, he would be far away from any means of repairing his electronics if they broke, and his electronics were his life-line. For two, the planned itinary of the ship was set to take him into several areas where he would be completely outside of signal range, which was worse. He hadn’t even known such areas still existed in this day and age of magically-boosted satellites and wizard wifi. For three, he was supposed to go on the cruise with Klaus Reed, of all people. Now, it wasn’t that Tristan had anything against Reed. He liked him well enough, had even worked together on occasion. But Reed was excited about the cruise, and a mismatch in attitude like that was always a pain to work around when you were trying to settle into a new cover identity.

Oh, right. There was also that: Tristan Jones wasn’t going on the Three-Months Dream All-Around Tropical Wonder Cruise as a vacation or anything of the sort. He was going on it as a spy working an undercover assignment against his will.

Think of it like a reward, his boss had told him, because he was an asshole. You’re my best agent, so you get the best assignment. In agency parlance, that meant: ‘you pissed me off somehow, but since you consistently bring in results, I’m not allowed to punish you. So I’m going to send you somewhere very scenic, for a mission that will be either mind-numbingly boring if you’re lucky, or extremely fucked up if you’re not.’ And since Tristan was an experienced agent, and he had a sense about these things, he could already tell that the second option was the most likely, even though he’d hadn’t even set foot on the godforsaken boat yet. He’d only needed one look at the mission brief to be able to tell.

According to the files he’d been given, half of the passengers of the cruise were set to board today, and another half at the next destination. Given the speed that the tickets had been sold, the lack of publicity for the cruise, and previously gathered data on some of the passengers, there was a high possibility that most if not all of the people about to board already knew each other, and may be involved in some manner of scheme. Unfortunately, what manner of scheme remained unclear, and it was one of the things that Tristan was here to uncover. With his luck, it might turn out to be anything from a terrorist plot to a weird sex cult.

Tristan scrunched his eyes shut and shuddered at that last thought. In the back of his mind he prayed to whatever deity oversaw spies (like all good spies, the god of them probably knew better than to let anyone know its identity, so he never put a name on his prayers and trusted that they reached the right godly department anyway) to not let him walk into a sex cult. Or at least not while partnered with Reed.

Once again, he didn’t have anything against the guy! And it’s not like Tristan was a prude or anything. He just… not with colleagues. Or other agents, even if they weren’t colleagues. Never again. That was a hard limit that he had set for himself years ago and he was going to hang on to it. It made his whole life so much less complicated.

Speaking of Reed, he sure was taking his sweet time. Tristan checked his watch. It was very fancy and very obviously a knock-off of an expensive brand, and would likely break down on him halfway through this mission. You’d think that would be annoying, but he knew that it was a feature, not a bug. Nobody thought that you were an undercover spy with military-grade equipment if your phone screen was cracked and your watch was a piece of shit. (That wasn’t the reason why he had been given it, though. The reason was that the hacks who worked down in Equipment hated him. It wasn’t his fault if they got offended when he returned his gear with obvious improvements in the softwares and hardwares. He wasn’t trying to insult them, he just needed shit to fiddle with on long boring stakeouts. He was a technomancer, of course he was going to mance the tech! What else did they expect?)

At T-minus-30 minutes to departure time, Reed still hadn’t shown up and Tristan was fidgeting with his undercover identity’s cellphone. He wasn’t actually supposed to turn it on until he’d boarded the ship, to reduce the risk that his movements before embarking could be retroactively tracked. But his partner was way beyond late now, and Tristan needed to know what the fuck was going on. Reed had been delayed, obviously, but Tristan didn’t think it was a catastrophic — or permanent — delay, or he would have received some signal to abandon mission and gtfo. So, what, was Reed just stuck in traffic? Did he slip on a banana peel and twist his ankle? Had he misread the briefing packet and was waiting in a completely different coffee shop? Tristan’s thumb hovered over the phone’s home button. He was just going to text him real quick using the café’s wifi, and then hack into the router to erase his tracks. With his skills, he was reasonably sure that no one but his partner would ever see that message.

The café’s door jingled. Tristan glanced up and away, reflexively, then froze. He slowly put his phone back down and shifted, ready to spring up from his chair. Right, so the mission was fucked-fucked. Good to know.

[letsplaydcttrpg]

@aducknamedalfred very reasonably asked what happened to Harry Black after he fell into the river and we got side tracked by other things.

The answer is... Nothing. As far as I can find, he's not mentioned again in the module.

This is probably just be an oversight (there are definitely some errors, including a whole section with the wrong number header). Obviously realistically that fall is probably lethal, but we would have survived it per the rules given, and we're operating on Comic Book Physics where falling into water is less dangerous and usually implies people live (even if that's very much not true to life), so I think it's fair to assume he took a beating but survived to soggily crawl home with a headache and a lesson in not picking fights with vigilantes.

I say I think that's fair because I think it's in keeping with the spirit of the game. I'm going to ramble a little about combat rules!

DC Heroes is fundamentally intended to be played as a hero. As such, the default mode for encounters is non-lethal combat (called Bashing Combat). There is an option for Killing Combat, but it must be declared beforehand and if you initiate it as a player you lose all of your Hero Points, the currency with which you buy new abilities, new gear, and buff your stats during gameplay. You can retaliate with lethal force if a villain starts it, but you get a bonus reward if you keep it non-lethal.

The GM manual specifically advises that while you should not be afraid to put your heroes in danger, the point should never be to actually kill them. Villains should have other plans, or elaborate traps or schemes the heroes can at least hypothetically escape. Death is possible, especially if players make very bad choices, but it shouldn't be the goal.

It's an interesting contrast to a lot of games where lethal combat is the assumed default!

[paceplace]

while im obv glad that the plushies exist and i wouldve bought them w/o the goals in place i still can't help but be a little disappointed in how they went about the stretch goals even if i Get why they did it this way this time around

like, dont get me wrong: i def acknowledge the fact that they weren't expecting buck sales to blow up the way they did and they were likely under pressure to come up with rewards that were better than the ones they already came up with AND make milestones that, while difficult to reach they were not entirely unrealistic (remember: the original milestones for the campaign were 200/300/350/400/500 all of which were met within 21 minutes of release and when we surpassed that the new goals were 1000/1500/2000 because we hit 1k sales within 5 hours of release. these are some pretty insane numbers for a character from a fan project) they def had their work cut out for them back then and so to prevent putting too much on their plates again they gave out less rewards/bigger milestones.

this is something i'm completely fine with as, above all else, i'd rather the people on the team not overexert themselves. my issue is they made the milestones too big and haven't rly said anything about it. i reckon they assumed that people would buy flint + graham due to their popularity, but overlooked the considerable amount of people who could only afford to get one as well people who just... can't get them at all whether it's due to the cost or them living in unsafe/unsupportive environments (the pride capes arent optional). if i were to be in charge behind setting the milestones w/ these factors in mind i would've adjusted the numbers so that it would've been 750/1500/2250/3000 -- decently challenging, yet still manageable.

where we're at rn it took us 27 days to reach 2k sales and by the looks of it we're probably not going to reach 2.5k. i don't know if they're going to address the fact they overshot their goals, or give out one or both of the rewards as pity, or do either of those things but even so i would hope this wouldn't discourage them from launching similar campaigns of other characters and that the outcome of this campaign will be used to help them plan out better milestones-- people have been vocal about their support + safety concerns for this campaign and some have even donated to the trevor project themselves. i'm happy that these plushies are real, i look forward to when they come home, but at the same time can't help but feel some level disappointment since the bar was set too high to begin with and no matter how you twist it getting a nameplate and a few stickers out of it is pretty underwhelming

[manonamora-if]

Project Status and Plans

All projects and their relevant links are listed here or here.

2023 Resolutions:

Get things off my desk and shelf it for good.

Avoid starting new ones, or at least starting new WIPs

Continue to do Word Crimes (and maybe Code Crimes)

Under the break:

Project Status and Current To-Do's

Future Projects

/ . /

Project Status and Current To-Do's:

Meeting the Parents

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

Crimson Rose & White Lily

Hiatus - Correct bugs - Redesign the Codexes - Complete Scene 5 (and Scene 2 variations?)

Exquisite Cadaver

Hiatus - Fix UI - QoL update of textbox and translated text - Add missing scenes and Endings - Fix Endless Mode - Look into French localization (unlikely) - Fix the blog

SPS Iron Hammer

Complete Future: remaster with complete story and gameplay

The Thick Table Tavern

Complete - Update Planned - Fix UI (look into mobile scaling) - Fix coding bugs (esp. Arcade Mode) - Re-writes of current text - Add missing storylets - Include recurring characters

The Trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt

Work In Progress - dependent on writer - Complete next round of edit and code - Package as a completed product

La Petite Mort

Completed - Update in the Works - Fix UI - Add missing rooms, content and endings - Correct the Inventory Mechanic - Fix display of elements - Translate into English

Goncharov Escapes!

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

P-Rix - Space Trucker

Hiatus - Fix animations (esp text) and autoscrolling - Add the missing content - Look into French localization

DOL-OS

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

The Rye in the Dark City

Hiatus - Fix UI - Double check Act 1 and fix errors - Add Act 2 and 3

The Roads not Taken

Complete - Update Planned - Iron-out the UI + display element - Fix parser gameplay (esp direction) - Add missing element/actions - Look into French localization

Entre-d’œufs coquilles An Eggscellent Preparation

Complete - Update Planned - Fix current bugs and issues (wrong text display and main puzzle) - Retranslate to French - Repackage into one page - Upload to IF Archive + GitHub

The Dinner

Complete - Update Planned - Complete missing courses and Final Beat - Add alternative options + rewind endings - Look into French localization

Templates and Guides

Work In Progress - unlikely to be complete - SugarCube Guide: add missing APIs, commonly used blocks of code, functionality, UI changes, JavaScript code; fix some small errors, add SGDocu theme - Templates: make more for fun; planned: title page. Also add the missing pictures of the templates on itch.

Complete - nothing will change here - Tweego Guide - CScript to SugarCube Guide

Tiny Games

Le Jeu de la Dévotion: fix the typos + English translation

À La Campagne

Collision

Intersigne

Clarence Street, 14

Other To-Do's

Prompts: put them in separate collection

Empty Inbox

Re-design itch pages: consistent style between main games

Re-format Tumblr intro posts: consistent style between posts

Continue to Host Jams

Continue to Play and Review Games

Take care of those damn wrists and hands.

Future Projects

Those projects are TBD in everything. They would probably start then the above To-Do has decreased. The titles are WIP titles. This is not the complete list I have hidden in a drawer or other desk bunnies. They might not be Twine games, or IF games either...

Quest Town

A RPG-style adventure, where you play as a beginner adventurer on the road to greatness and treasure. Along the way, you encounter people needing your help, with promise of rewards in return.

This would include a leveling system, inventory system, combat gameplay, travelling back and forth between location, storylets...

Project Status: Not Started

IFComp/SpringThing 2024-5?

A puzzle-focus escape-room, in hypertext/visually interactive form. Multiple rooms with different puzzle and interconnectedness. Story with mystery.

I technically have a title for it, and the pun is still making me giggle. But keeping this in my sleeve.

Project Status: Mock-up, some puzzles coded.

CRWL Side-quel

A Razac-focused story, either as a prequel, during the event of the games, sequel, or plain alternate universe. Mainly because I've been playing him in a TTRPG session and he's a fun character I want to explore further.

Project Status: Not Started

Sword Vigilante F/F Rivalry

Because there are not enough of those, and I can just go all in with the humour, camp, gushing, innuendos and puns, and of course... betraaaaayyyaals. Think Zorro but with more sword ladies.

Project Status: Not Started

TTTT Sequel - Bron(m?)'s Quest

Essentially a similar gameplay from TTTT but with food instead of drinks. Help Brom(n?) prepare food for the customers.

Project Status: Not Started

[psycheetamore]

Choosing to follow destiny

Chapter 9 - Improvise, adapt, overcome

Pre notes with this chapter: Feyd-Rautha has been in reactive mode most of the time. Let's give him a more active role, doing what he does best: hunting. First published on AO3

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, the typical Feyd tags (smut, violance, non-con/rape etc), imaginary suicide, see for full tags: chapter 1 - the author regrets nothing

Word count: 2k

Link to previous chapter

+++

Feyd-Rautha decided he needed to set a trap. He needed to find Paul Atreides. He also wanted to find the person that was starting to occupy part of his brain.

By now they would be expecting him to pop up at their raids, so taking that route no longer was an option. He needed to find a way how he could surprise them. Meet them at their place where they laid their heads to rest before and after their attacks. He wanted to do to them what they had done upon him.

He realised their stings followed his crawlers. They would position themselves at the locations where his machines were planned to go. They fled by foot, showing that they could not go for away.

His guards never made a priority to follow them. Rather, their priorities were with securing the harvesters and the spice already collected. He would change that priority. Hunt them down to where they fled.

But thinking that through, they would never stay where his men followed them to. And he would never be on time to find them off guard.

What other options were left?

He decided: if he could not follow them, he needed to join them. There were risks. Risks only made the reward more pleasurable. He was already enjoying the prospect.

+++

It took a while before a Fremen stillsuit was located that fitted Feyd-Rautha's muscular and tall frame. He could cover his face and hands in cloths, a mask and dirt to prevent his pale skin from showing. A large enough quantity of locally forged weapons was available to suit his preferences.

+++

While the raid was ongoing, he made sure two of his guards killed one of the fighters, to prevent a higher number of people retreating than were present at the start of the Fremen assault. To add to the conviction that he was one of the Fremen, he then killed these two guards while ensuring he was being seen.

He was surrounded by fighting Fremen. It was an impressive sight to behold. Both individually and forming part of a group each of them was well trained. Everybody knew their role, and was sufficiently flexible in manouvering to another role if necessary. They were excellent warriors, and well prepared.

It did not take long before the group dispersed. He had managed to identify the leader of this surge, and followed the relatively large portion of fighters joining them.

He was surprised with how long the group walked. Several hours past. Fortunately, nobody spoke. Nobody walked near each other. On some stretches people walked with a distinct movement to prevent calling worms, something he only read in books.

By the time the desert was dark, they reached their hiding place. He kept track of the stars and moons to have a general feeling of where they went and where Arrakeen was located. Probably he was already outside of the reach of the tracking device he had through which he could call for his ride back.

About 10 people were sitting outside of the cave structure, and another 20 were inside. Clearly this was a grouping station, from which several attacks were organised.

His heart started racing, followed by controlled breathing to get himself to calm down again. Most of the warriors had ditched the coverings of their face, but enough did not, allowing him to only partially uncover his face. In the cave it was dark enough that the soil he had put on his face hid the paleness from his skin. The only thing he needed to do was observe from a safe distance, and avoid any interactions until the only noise in the cave was the slight snoring of his new comrades.

+++

After the post-mortem of their stints, Paul, Yaina and Bakyi spoke some words of encouragement to their warriors. They spoke in Chakobsa, which Feyd-Rautha had a basic level of proficiency in.

"You fought well today. With the fearlessness of a lion, the ferocity of a hyena and the precision of a hawk."

A subtle nudge towards the symbol of the house of Atreides. From the dark corner he had retired to, Feyd-Rautha asked himself whether that was Paul speaking. He has already concluded that the person speaking was the uninvited guest that had spoken to him. The sounds of his voice was all too familiar, and the piercing eyes removed any doubt he may have. Now he could see his full face, the resemblance from a family portrait stashed in the library of the palace became uncanny. He noticed the movements of a trained fighter. Paul was electrifying. Paul commanded the room. Feyd-Rautha was impressed.

It was Paul's father, Paul's family, that was murdered in cold blood in the very rooms were Feyd-Rautha now resided. That have caused pain, and still cause pain, to Paul. Good, Feyd-Rautha thought. That would give Paul an edge when combatting him; he liked a challenge.

The fighters slammed the palms of their hands on their stillsuits. Feyd-Rautha could do nothing but join. He felt part of the group, it was exhilerating.

Another person continued, causing Fremen to hurdle closer to the centre of the main cave: "We took losses, but the Harkonnen pests took more. We have noticed their approaches are changing every day since the Beast was ousted. But we are seeing new patterns of repetition."

These observations were made by the person he spoke to recently, the person he managed to find in the rocks. Now he could see their face as well. The face was nothing like he what he had expected. He was not looking at a Fremen native. The face he saw was androgynous. Sharpe features, yet soft. Years of adversity showed, but did not hid any determination. Easy to look at. When recalling the uninvited visit, he could now also picture faces.

It appeared at least two of their leaders were not Fremen. Good to know, their acceptance of otherworldly people could provide opportunities.

He joined at an excellent moment, as he was gaining a lot of information on how to improve spice harvesting. The second person spoke for a long time and shared the observations they made, and effects it would have on future strikes. This person had a book in their hand from which they every now and then spoke. That book must contain their battle plans and so much more. He needed to get his hands on that book.

By the end of the monologue, the Fremen slammed their palms on their stillsuits again and shouted: "Yaina Sadus, Yaina Sadus, Yaina Sadus". By the third time, Feyd-Rautha had joined the chanting.

+++

During the few hours to follow, Feyd-Rautha kept to himself. Once the group was asleep, he silently stalked around looking for his prey.

Yaina was the person who frisked him, who spoke with him, who saved him. Yaina was the person who truly commanded the room. The person that set out the strategy. Yes, Paul was still alive, but if he could choose, he would want to approach and awe Yaina. The bigger target. This would have more impact.

It took a while in the maze consisting of caves and hallways, and with a few guarding Fremen here and there, before he found Yaina sleeping.

They were alone.

He looked around in a nearly empty cave. Yaina slept on the ground, covered by the cloths that they had worn during the fight. Above their head were a couple of daggers. The stillsuit was thrown in a corner, together with a backpack. Apart from that, the cave was empty.

He wanted to straddle the sleeping person, put his hand on their mouth and a knife to their neck. Force them on their knees. Have them experience the humiliation he encountered. However, he considered that he did not really have an exit strategy. He did not know the layout of the cave, he did not know how to get out quickly. An important information gap compared to the 30 fighters that were ready to charge at any moment.

It was a safe bet that the backpack would hold the notebook he needed. He now gained knowledge on where they slept. With everything he already gained, including the contents from the backpack, the moment to leave had arrived.

+++

It took about another hour to leave the cave and venture into territories where his tracking device had connection again. Within another 15 minutes he was collected and flying on his way back.

+++

Within a few hours after Feyd-Rautha reached the comfort of his chambers, Yaina had turned the cave upside down. She was very careful with her backpack. It contained strategic information. It held the few items that could give away her gender. Most importantly, if the last thing that connected her to her parents and her origins was included therein: her golden ring.

Despite all her efforts, the backpack was nowhere to be found. It was a mystery. She could not decide whether she made a mistake of displacing it somewhere in the maze made of up caves and paths, or whether someone took it. But everywhere where she looked, every person she scrutinized: her backpack was not to be found.

She had no leads to go on, no basis for a hypothesis. It bugged the hell out of her, even more than her feeling that she could have sworn the number of people still in the cave compared to the people in yesterday evening was off. However, she, Paul and Bakyi did not come up with any names of people who were missing, other than the comrades that fell yesterday.

+++

Despite an intense day and night, Feyd-Rautha could only capture sleep when the light of the morning was already slipping through the cracks of the blinds. The bag he stole presented the cherry on top of the pie he got yesterday. The briefing he heard yesterday only gave a hint of the breadth of all the written information he obtained. He had observations on Harkonnen tactics and machines, high level overviews of the active Fremen squads, nicknames of quite a few fighters, plans about attacks, potential counter attacks and counter-counter attacks. This was a gold-mine.

However, he really got worked up about the personal belongings he found in the bag. He found typical Fremen clothing, but also what he recognised to be a breast band, underwear suited for females, thin rags and a golden ring.

He felt delighted, as his fingers caressed the soft materials.

Yaina was a woman, there was no doubt about it. She wore these items. They smelled like her. Her natural scent, not the smell of otherworldly luxurious elixirs his clothes were manipulated with. He closed his eyes and savoured the scent of desert summer from her clothing.

He held the ring in his fingers. It was beautifully made, with carvings that reflected the sea. The bottom side of the ring was flat, while the upper part was flowy. Another ring could be put on the top to come to a complete ring. There was an inscription inside in a language that he could not decipher, or perhaps they were symbols he did not know. The ring was held in a little bag and was well polished. It had importance. He tried to put the ring on his smallest finger, but it would only pass the first knuckle.

He tried to think how this ring would look on the soft yet cold fingers of Yaina. Never had he experienced a woman like this. They were servants or Bene Gesserit witches. The latter may have been appealing, but off limits and not really human. The former broken into compliance and therefore without true appeal to start off with.

He now understood that he needed to find a woman to soothe his soul.

He had never been so close - so fucking close - to finding a woman who truly fascinated him, yet never felt so distant.

He was not waiting patiently. He would make her his.

+++

Link to next chapter

Post notes with this chapter: I can't help myself. I just needed to add a few little references here and there to Depeche Mode (well... it’s a bit more than just references to It's No Good and Soothe My Soul) and Peaky Blinders.

[happyhealthycats]

I'm bringing home a pair of 4 month old kittens on Wednesday (21/2) and I'm so nervous.

I think I've got everything they need; shallow bowls to avoid whisker fatigue, litter boxes with removable hoods, roomy carriers, three different types of scratcher, puzzle feeders, quick release collars, *so many* toys, beds and blankets.

But I still feel so unprepared. This'll be the first time I've been solely responsible for anyone and I'm so scared I'll mess up. I want these boys to be the happiest, most well-taken-care-of cats in the world, but I struggle to take care of myself as it is and I'm terrified I'll hurt or neglect them unintentionally.

I'm sorry for rambling but basically what I want to ask is, is there anything I've forgotten for them? Is there any important advice you can think of?

First thing's first - Take a minute to relax! I know it's easier said than done, but you're doing a GREAT thing by bringing two cats into your home. It's a big step, sure, but it's very rewarding! Keep this in mind - Every single cat is unique with different needs. You can buy every single toy on the wall and bring home the one cat that will absolutely not touch any of the types of toys you got them. When they first get home, their job is to grow confident in their new surroundings and be there for each other, and to continue to eat and to their business and other healthy cat-behaviors. It's also time for them to learn the rules of the home, right? I don't mean actual rules, but think about it - "Why is the human going to bed? Why are they staying here instead of going home after turning off the lights?" They have to get used to a whole new way of life, and it can be stressful! So this is why a lot of folks warn about cats being skittish/shy/scared right after coming home. Some cats go on litter box strikes. Some go on food strikes. It's all part of getting to know each other. So following that idea, you want to learn about your new friends! Watch them play, watch them interact. Give them a variety of options so you can see what they prefer, and it already sounds like you've got that covered! You may find that the cats don't like the litter you picked out, or the food you got. It's important not to see it as a failure, but as a learning experience. I WILL give you some basic advice that I wish more folks would give - have an emergency plan in case someone gets sick or eats something they're not supposed to. Know your emergency vet number - or put it on your fridge. You don't need to have a stack of cash, things like Care Credit exist for this very reason, but don't put off thinking about 'what if's when you're in a good headspace to do so. This would be a good time to look into pet insurance, and honestly I'd say it's worth checking out as an option if it's something you can swing financially. Get some blood work on their files at the vet as soon as you're able, just so you have a baseline to refer to in the future. Find your veterinarian now if you haven't already! Shelter vets and rescue vets are fantastic and do amazing work, but you want the vet who will continue seeing the animal into the future to get more familiar with your pet sooner rather than later. Vets can also have great resources for you at a new pet appointment. All in all, watch and learn from each other and you're going to give those cats the very best life they could have possibly hoped for.

[pierrai]

Hello!! I love your blog so much, ahhhh... If you wouldn't mind, could you possibly write a scenario for a Yandere Jun who's guiltily obsessed with someone?

Thank you so much! I hope you will enjoy! ^^

Character(s): Jun Word Count: 1062 Scenario: Yandere Jun guiltily obsessed with his s/o. Warnings: Unhealthy relationship dynamic.

Jun

Though Jun seems like the type to have a lot of experience with relationships, actually loving someone is new to him. He's well-aware of the vague unresolved trauma he has and since he's never been brave enough to delve into it, he's always decided that staying away from any deep relationship is the better option for him. One night stands are fine, but anything past a surface level hook-up is something he'll put an end to quickly.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn't so easy when it came to you.

Your relationship started out slow. Perhaps that was why his feeling had snuck up on him like they did. Before he could even realise he was heading down a dangerous road, he was already halfway down it.

You were an extremely troubled person when he first found you, and as he always did in scenarios like this, he offered out a helping hand. At first, this was fine. Jun was your pillar of support and probably the only reason you managed to get by in the Underground. An outcast, exiled noble cast down into the festering pit of crime that was the Underground would be torn apart like scraps of meat by a pack of wolves. If not for Jun protecting you and vouching for you, you would've ended up dead or worse.

You were grateful for his intervention, he knew this. Though you had what most people would call a 'difficult' personality, the fact that you were slowly opening up to him and relying on him when things became too much made him feel happy. It was rewarding. He was, as always, happy to help someone out. It fulfilled that uncomfortable longing inside of him that he always did his best to ignore was there.

You were someone who needed help, and he was someone who could help you. Jun liked feeling needed, he liked knowing that he was doing good in the world, especially to someone like you who surely wouldn't survive on your own. If he left... what would happen to you? It would be better if he he stayed by your side, even if you were slowly coming into your own, who knew when you might fall back down into that pit of despair? He didn't want that. You probably didn't want that either, so beside you is where he'll stay. He knew what was best for you.

He didn't properly classify his feelings as 'love' until you started meeting other people. It was when he felt suddenly jealous of losing his importance to you that he light-heartedly thought 'Oh, I've gotten myself in trouble here, haven't I?' Beneath that was a swirling mass of fear and uncertainty that made him feel sick.

Eventually he went from watching over you and encouraging you to form connections with other people to taking up all of your time himself. You didn't talk to anyone else if he wasn't also there. He told himself he was just watching over you, helping you out until you felt brave enough to make friends on your own, but when you told him about plans you made or people you'd met, he'd don his well-meaning expression of concern and say that he should perhaps accompany you. You never know what people's intentions could be. Some still had their reservations about you, they could be lying to you just to hurt you. Jun didn't want that to happen, so you'll let him tag along, right? He'll help you.

The ever-trusting, always-willing-to-give-a-chance Jun being so doubtful of people. Perhaps you should've read the warning signs while they were there.

Jun became a constant in your life, something he was happy about and more than a little bit guilty towards. Your friends were his friends. Your problems were his problems. It was fine for him to ask how your day was, but when he wanted to know every detail, every interaction, every person you talked to, it became too much. Jun knew this. He knew, but he couldn't stop.

If you were ever concerned or scared or sad, he needed to know why. If he couldn't know, how could he help you? What if giving you time to open up simply wasn't enough? You needed to tell him now. He could help. Didn't you trust him?

The thoughts in his mind were much more erratic than what he showed on the surface, and he felt horrible about it. Why did he have such awful thoughts? Why did he want to monopolise you like this? As much as he tried to convince himself that he was simply concerned for your well-being, he was self-aware enough to know that wasn't it.

He was a good person, wasn't he? He wanted to be a good person. Helping other people and solving their problems was something he had to do. It was the life he told himself he'd lead. He'd be reliable and worthy of trust, not the small, weak coward he used to be as a child, crying at every small problem he encountered.

But with you that motivation changed from wanting to be a good person to simply acting like one so he could keep you near him. If he pretended like he really was just concerned about you and that was all, maybe you wouldn't leave him.

His realisation of this only came to him properly when you awkwardly told him he was smothering you. He didn't know what face he must've been making when you said so, but he knew it must've been pathetic enough as you immediately frowned at him with guilt, and that guilty look was all he needed.

You didn't trust him, did you? Smothering you... Ah, no, no... He's just looking out for you. Didn't you appreciate that? Was he really being too much? He's still so afraid you'll get hurt. He cares about you a lot so... so, isn't it okay for him to check in on you every so often? It made him feel better to know you were okay, and he really, really doesn't want you to get hurt, you know? Has he really done something so awful?

By the time he was done, you looked so much more guilty you apologised to him instead, and Jun felt sick with satisfaction.

He's too obsessed with you, and he knows it full well.

[casitafallz]

LTRL AU | Photographic Reminders

Mirabel found herself back in her room, her mood soured but she…decided to keep proactive as she mulled in quiet anger by pulling out some of grey and white fabric and sat down by her machine. Knitting would be better, but she’d rather not test her patience with overly large needles and her mood at the same time.

Camilo’s repetitive snide prodding was annoying. While she knew she couldn’t talk him out of his distaste of her sister, she hoped he’d at least…try to keep his mouth more retrained around her…and Antonio for that matter as well. She didn’t want to hear it.

She didn’t want that…negativity.

Mirabel didn’t get too far into cutting the fabric along the pattern she had for a little hat—a knitted hat would be best for a…baby but she wanted to get this done quickly to show her sister support— before a knock at her door pulled her attention.

Mirabel sighed softly, “Come in.”

To her surprise, it was Abuela. Mirabel quickly set her fabric down and scissors in a manner that’d make it hard to see what her plans were—glad for one she hadn’t made paper notes on this. God forbid, Isabela would never give her for letting this slip.

“Are you okay, Mirabel?” Abuela asked, stepping in though she sounded…careful.

Mirabel nodded, swallowing down her frustrations, her fingers coming to pull at the white threading closer, “Si, Abuela.”

That didn’t convince Abuela by the expression on her face nor did it look that her hint for Abuela to leave didn’t land either as she came further in.

“I…heard you talking to Camilo, I was…worried.”

Of course, Abuela did, though Mirabel realized for a second… there was a huge chance Abuela could have heard what she and Dolores had talked with Luisa about. But… if Camilo hadn’t heard, then maybe they were spared that news drop?  Mirabel desperately hoped so.

“It’s…nothing. I’m just…frustrated.”

“It didn’t sound like a new frustration, Mirabel. I am open for you to talk to if you need it?” this was less than an offer, more like a reminder Mirabel had from the last…deep talk Abuela had tried those months ago. The first time had been…nice to hear but now, it felt less…optional. Like

“You’ll just get mad at me, Abuela.” Mirabel stated quietly, “You won’t like what I have to say.”

“That’s not true, Mirabel.”

Mirabel inhaled deeply, “Really? Because any time anyone says or does something you don’t like, you get angry and they back down and do what you want.” She replied though winced at how it sounded but she couldn’t take back the words, even as Abuela blinked in surprise. “Sorry.”

Abuela came in further, though her expression became…puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

Mirabel exhaled angrily, the heat oddly simmering again under the surface. “You! Abuela, you! After my failure of a gift ceremony, I was a second-rate grandchild up until Isa hurt me and then I’m put in her place and she’s left living in the sewer about it.” She snapped, “And now, people keep telling me how I should feel when they don’t know how I actually feel. They think it’s their job to keep me safe when I can judge that myself.”

“They’re just looking out for you,” Abuela spoke, bypassing entirely the whole analogy involving Isa for now it seemed.

“I didn’t ask and I should have the right to do that. Isa’s not the only walking hazard if people keep referring to gifts and the dangers. Camilo can literally trick people into handing over goods or gain access to houses with deception if he decided to abuse his gift, and Luisa… well I don’t need to go into the risks she could pose by a light nudge… and Tia Pepa… she’s struck a lot of people with lightening…and hurt them but no one’s putting her in house arrest for it.” Mirabel stopped at the hand gesture Abuela gave.

“We deal with those instances as they come, Mirabel,” Abuela spoke if a little uneasy. “Camilo will never use his gift to hurt anyone or deceive them. He knows the punishments outweigh any rewards there.”

Mirabel wanted to point out more with Tia Pepa but… couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to use Tia’s gift when she clearly struggled with it still.  “What is it about Isa’s gift that scares you so much?” Mirabel opted to go for it. “Is it that…she made them or that she can control them?”

“It’s a complicated answer, Mirabel.” Abuela deflected. “I thought her gift was wonderful, but all I saw was the roses, not the thorns.”

“Thorns are there to protect the rose, Abuela.” Mirabel pointed out, “I know i… I can’t convince you to let go of what’s holding you back with Isabela, but just…can’t you allow me to make my own choices in regard to my sister? I know now the risks I’m taking.”

“Aren’t you scared of her? That she could do that again.”

“Anyone is capable of anything, depending on the moment. I…I’m not over my fear of her but… I won’t let my fear of her keep me from her.” Mirabel carefully spoke, “It’s taken me months…to want to be around her to try and get through it. I think… I heard it was called ‘Exposure Therapy’?” She wasn’t entirely sure but Dolores had mentioned it from someone in town who once had a fear of dogs, and bought of puppy that they were now smittened with like it was their own kid. It was a…logical assumption she could do the same… sort of.

“Don’t you want your family to look out for you? Your parents? Me?”

“Not at the expense of the family, Abuela. Not when they’re got their own problems they’ve not talked about. I don’t know what’s happened with Mama but she seems a little out of it. Luisa’s…upset because of what you asked of her—”

“I had—“

“Abuela, please let me talk. Otherwise, I won’t.” Mirabel gave her Abuela a firm look though with a short nod, Abuela let her continue. “I don’t want to get involved with what happened in that regard. You had your reasons, Isa has her, Luisa was stuck in the middle and I have nothing to do with it.” Mirabel hadn’t tried to get too involved in that either. She’d much rather handle herself right now whenever Isa was involved in any shape or form.  “What I’m saying is… everyone is dealing with problems. I know how to handle mine.” Mirabel finished softly. “Let me be angry or scared on my terms, I will talk to Isa on my terms; she can respect that.”

Abuela's lips pursed tightly, her posture tense. “She could have killed you, Mira.”

“And it took that for you to actually care about me.” Mirabel recoiled from the harshness of her words though Abuela stiffened up, looking positively offended.

“Mirabel,” her voice dropped of all warmth.

“Mirabel,” Another voice echoed through the door, enough for Mirabel to take that lifeline away and Casita opened it to see her mother in the doorway.

Julieta’s face was…as tired as Mirabel remembered, her hair coming a little out from it’s bun but Mirabel happily pulled her into a hug. Her mother’s arms were slow and carefully on her sides but she enjoyed her hugs even if it felt like she was treating her like fragile glass.

“Do you still need help with the decorations?” Mirabel hoped, pulling back.

“You’re cousins are still working on it, I could do with some help with setting the table.”

“Okay.” Though without a backward look, Mirabel let her mother lead her away from Abuela’s silent mood because she was not for pushing anymore. Abuela had certainly heard her but…would she listen was another matter.

 -

 Bruno couldn’t help himself as he hurried back towards Casita, his mind mulling on the new information he had and…he felt happy. It was an odd feeling and he wasn’t sure how long it would last but… he couldn’t help himself as he made his way through the bustling party of the night and the box in his hand was certainly a treasure he wasn’t just going to let slip.

Casita opened willingly for him, the family was about but he found one of his sisters easily who lay across against her husband’s side.

“Pepa, get Juli and meet me in my room. I’ve got something to show you and I can’t wait!”

Pepa’s face turned bemused at his antics, her cloud above her head only a light fog with a light patch of a rainbow which still indicated she was still happy, despite her confusion. He’d take that for now.

“Ay, you should go.” Felix encouraged happily, “I’ve never seen Bruno this pumped for anything unless he’s downed all the coffee and wants to show you some new rat tricks.”

Bruno blew his brother-in-law a raspberry.

“Fine, but I don’t want to stay away for too long.” Pepa begrudgingly rose to her feet, detangling from Felix’s limbs as well but Bruno grinned at her and hurried back towards his room.

He set the box down on the side, the candles in the room lit up with a more pleasing warmth in his good mood and grabbed the stools and set them up in a little circle and waited. His hands felt dry and he knocked softly on the wooden bedside.

“Knock, knock, knock, knock on wood.” He whispered to himself, the familiar notion settling the slight nerve of anxiety in his gut until his door finally opened.

“Bruno,” Julieta’s voice was soft, “what do you have to show us?” the edge of wanting to leave was not present, but he could feel her reluctance was enough of that statement but he didn’t let that linger. Nope.

“Take a seat.” He encouraged, his hands coming to pick up the box he had. “So, you know I wasn’t at lunch earlier, Señora Rojas invited me into her store.”

“My mother-in-law?” Julieta’s eyebrows shot up, “Why did you go? You don’t know her.”

Bruno shrugged, “Curiosity… and I’m super glad I did because I…learned so much.”

“You picked up sewing?” Pepa settled most, leaning back in her chair.

“Only from Mirabel.” Bruno waved that excuse off. “She wanted to talk to me and we did but… did you know that… she knew Papa.”

That pulled both his sister’s full attention onto him as he hoped. Pepa’s cloud darkened a little and Julieta’s smile vanished, both brown and green eyes set onto him with a more serious edge.

“What?”

“Agustín’s Mama knew our Pa. They grew up in the same street!” He smiled, “She told me all of these stories about him and… and took me to a few others that knew the Madrigal family. Pa moved out of the street to live with Mama closer to the edge of town.” Bruno waffled as he set the box down. “One person has a lot of photos. The photographer’s family used to take a lot of photos of people in town to test out their new invention. Our Pa’s family were a few that volunteered to help so… there’s a good few of them that’s survived this long.”

Inside, there were eighteen photos. A third of them were barely eligible, too much light or too little light, three looked to show faint outlines of movement in slow-capture—as Señor Acevedo had explained—but the others were more intact and easy to see.

“Should…should we take this to Ma?” Julieta asked carefully, her eyes flickering towards the door as she watched him pull out the little stack.

“No, because she never talks about our Pa. She’ll just take this away and I want to talk about him.” Bruno decided, surprising a little himself of his vindication but… this felt right. If Ma never wanted to talk to them about their Pa, then they should find out more about him from other people. “We deserve to know him, don’t we? The other Madrigals that didn’t make it here?”

Both his sisters shared a look and Pepa’s cloud darkened even more but Pepa’s resolve crumbled first. “It would be nice.”

Bruno passed her the first photo: Their grandparents, Papa and Tia, but in this photo, their Tia was four years old and crying her eyes out on their grandmother’s lap. Their father, six years old stood solemnly at his father’s side, holding his hand and a book hugged to his chest. “This is our Tia, Luciana Isabela Madrigal. She’s two years younger than our Pa. Our grandparents—ooh you know he’s a red head!”

  -

Alma had wondered where her triplets had gone to. Both Agustín and Felix were drinking together and no sign of their wives but Felix had mentioned they were talking to Bruno. Alma couldn’t ask Dolores for his location… for some reason, Pepa had neglected to inform her what punishments she had given Dolores for her part in Isabela’s secret affair behind their back, being grounded was clearly not part of it. It seemed Dolores had once again opted to go with the Guzman’s for the nightly celebrations for Novenas. Why were members of her family disappearing off?

Novenas were a family celebration.

They should be here in Casita. A home big enough for them all.

Alma knew it’d be best to invite both the Rojas and the Castillo to Casita for the 24th for certain. Maybe Isabela would actually put the effort in to be here than wallow in her shame. Her actions could be ignored in favor of the family for the time being. It’d be nice to have a reasonable holiday after such a horrible year.

After which, it would be Camilo’s 16th birthday in the four days following Nochebuena. Another celebration but also the day of pranks. Very fitting for the boy’s antics.

“Casita, where’s Bruno?”

The answer was swift as Casita shifted their tiles along and up to the steps. His room. She should have checked there first. At least she didn’t have to worry about him in the walls, now it’s blocked off and plastered up.

Her feet guided her swiftly up and away, from the laughing voices of Camilo and Mirabel and along toward’s Bruno’s tower.

She paused, if for a moment as she noticed only five steps remained up to his door instead of the fifteen she was well acquainted with. Alma pondered in it if only for a moment before she knocked once and opened the door.

All three triplets were inside, Pepa jumped the most, her thunder almost striking Julieta though all three stopped their conversation and hurriedly began to shove what they had into the box.

“Mama, can’t you wait until you’re invited before you walk in? That’s becoming a bad habit.” Pepa huffed, straightening up though her cloud rumbled with her annoyance.

“I knocked and unlike my daughters, there’s little chance to walk in on you in the marital bed.” She had learned swiftly with her daughters in that respect.

“Doesn’t make it okay, Ma.” Bruno stared. “As an adult, I want you to respect my privacy and personal boundaries, so please knock and wait like everyone else. Otherwise, I’ll install a lock on my door like what Señora Rojas has done.”

Alma sniffed but nodded nonetheless. It hardly changed much in the grand scheme of things. “Why are you all here? The party is downstairs.”

The looks between were so familiar, the looks they often gave when they had no excuse and were caught doing something they shouldn’t. Which, nowadays, was now the next generation that held those looks and expressions. She hadn’t expected that from her children now.

“What have you done?”

“Nothing. It’s a conversation between us triplets.” Bruno answered, coming to his feet but something flew off his lap, and onto the floor, enough for her to see it was a photograph.

Her head tilted but she was quick to get it before any of her children could, holding it away before Pepa could grab it which only indicated this was important and secret. She wasn’t ready for more secrets. Not now.

“What is this?”

“That’s a gift!” Bruno hissed, “Careful!”

Alma gave her son a look, though held a hand up to stop either of her daughters from going for this. At first, it was mostly just dark color but she could pick out the faces soon enough. It took a second before she felt her chest pause as she noticed the familiar face. Her eyes rose sharply to Bruno. "What is this?” her tone was cool, “Why do you have a photo of your father here? How did you get this?”

Bruno held his head high. “I went into town and asked people.” His tone was oddly confident, “I had no idea people in town knew him. It never even occurred to me beforehand until I was having a friendly conversation with an elder in town.”

Julieta made a soft snort in the back of her throat.

Alma didn’t lift her gaze off him. They had…gone into town and… spoke to people? She couldn’t fathom why he’d do that at all at a time like this? How could…he even ask for such a thing from people who barely knew Pedro? Most had only really met when they had fled.  If they were asking, then people would surely think she was callous to not speak of their father when she had done. The family had enough rumors as it was, she didn’t need anything tied to herself.

“You shouldn’t have needed to bother people at Novenas when they’re already dealing with personal family celebrations. I’ve told you plenty about your father and what he did for all of us. What he meant to all of us.”

“But we don’t know him.” Pepa gritted out tightly, “You don’t talk about him so how can we see him for him or care as much as you about him? We were babies when you lost all of this.” Her hand gestured to the three of them and then over the photographs. Her clouds thundering with her words “We don't know what we've missed so don’t get angry when we just want to know more about our family that you were unwilling to share with his own children.”

That stung hitting far deeper than Alma even expected in terms of her lost beloved. She knew that pain far too easily as it sat with her like a constant reminder. A companion through her journey but not one of choice, when it’s truth, was always there. Her husband was gone and the family she had made with her in-laws was snatched away long before that. Either dead or scattered, she couldn’t know as they had fled without burning distant time by checking. She had been safe knowing Pedro was with her, that she had all she needed with him beside her.

“Knowing he’s a great man is one thing,” Bruno carried on fidgeting, “but it would have been nice to know he disliked Bollo de Mazorca or wasn’t fond of the way you bent the edges of a book’s page to mark your spot…”

Alma’s head tilted softly though she felt the bristle at one such false fact. “Pedro loved Bollo de Mazorca I made for him.” She knew that because he always smiled and thanked her for the meals she gave him at work before they kissed and she’d return home for a rest. The pregnancy with the triplets had been harder for her to get out and continue her daily traditional of giving him his lunch but she made do to keep on that.

“Agustín believes that I think he likes Tajadas de Plátano but that doesn’t mean he turns the side dish down then it’s at the table. He’ll often have Mirabel take from off his plate when he thinks I haven’t seen.” Julieta spoke, “I…enjoy his attempts to try and enjoy even what he doesn’t like in what I make.” Her smile was soft, her eyes far away.

But that didn’t make Alma feel too happy. Pedro had lied to her? What was it that he disliked? Her preparation? The texture? She could hardly fathom him throwing it out. He complimented her skills in the kitchen whenever he saw her cooking so… why did he not say anything?

“Ma,” Bruno’s voice pulled her back to the moment,

Though Alma realized that tears had formed in her eyes, her hand came to brush them away. “I thought he liked my cooking.”

“Ma, he only kept eating Bollo de Mazorca because you made them for him.” Bruno spoke, “I think he loved all the effort you put into it to not dissuade you.  Can’t you see that just makes him more…human? Someone with likes and dislikes… you know all the quirks and habits he had. We don’t.” Bruno looked down. “All we have are hollow stories.”

Alma sucked in a shallow breath. Hollow stories. She hated that phrase with a severe passion…but she could see the weight he had put into it; what it meant for them. She didn’t want to talk about him. It resurfaced the same pain but…with the desire for him and the longing that came with missing his presence.

“I…I can’t.” Alma admitted, “It’s…too painful to talk about him.”

“Ma,” Julieta moved from her stool. “Can’t you…try? Share that burden and pain with all of us?”

Alma shook her head. “It’s not a weight I want you to have.”

Pepa’s cloud thundered a little, breaking the second of silence before she picked up a photograph and held it in front of her face. Alma lent back immediately, her hand grabbing Pepa’s wrist to force it back a little.

“We lost our entire family that day except you, Mama. Everyone knows what mood I’m in and judged me on that, Julieta’s got a mess happening between her daughters, and Bruno’s lived in the walls of our own home for ten years. What weight can’t we handle, Ma?” Pepa fired swiftly, “We’re your children, your family now. That should matter more. I’ve only now come to realize that importance with Dolores and my sons.”

Alma couldn’t meet Pepa’s eye, her gaze lingering on the photo of Pedro of his 6th year of life and…unaware that he had only 20 years left. Her hand let go of Pepa’s wrist, pulling the photograph free of her fingers. He looked so small and serious in this picture. Always did when he was taken away from what he wanted to do. His grip on his book seemed to indicate why.

“He wanted to read,” Alma stated, not looking up from the picture. “He only ever got this serious was…when he was interrupted and had to follow his father’s instructions… Something you two of did when you were younger when you’re interrupted.” Pepa was the odd one out and went straight into a tantrum.

She supposed… she could share a little. For them.

  -

The night had progressed and it was bittersweet but for the best as Mama finally let down a few of her walls. Enough to talk about Papa and what she knew of the other Madrigals but it wasn’t without the feeling she was still holding back. Something that Bruno hoped was a start to get her opening up... and to actually talk as a mother to children than Matriarch to children. 

Mama had left with a few photographs but Bruno had been careful to keep the rest safe and in a box before they all went their separate ways. His sisters to their husbands, Mama to the party and Bruno just went to bed.

But as light and as happy as he was, the headache had had didn’t vanish. Even as he threw salt, prayers, and knocked on wood, it didn’t get better as te night went on.

The headache had only grown as Bruno had tried to sleep, the ticking and trickling swirls of the future were calling until he found himself sipping out of his bed in a huff and trudged through his sand wall; letting it rain over him and down, the sand dune down forming into steps down until it got to the stairs up. But, since his return, there were considerably less steps than before, but enough he felt no particular desire to go up so, he opted for the easy route.

He stepped up to the step-up entry then snapped his fingers twice and under him, the slab rose like an elevator, not touching the sides to risk hitting the steps that lined all the way up until finally, he reached the top.

It descended way after him, not that he cared too much on the way down, and hurried towards his vision cave as the pain and green began to grow behind his eyes like a warm, pressure.

He found the incense quickly and kicked away the vision shards he hadn’t wanted to remove from the pit and with a handful of salt over his shoulder, he sunk into the familiar ritual of his vision.

The sand began to rise, filtering with green as he pushed his energy out into it, lessening the burden of his mind before he let himself pull what awaited him.

There were flickers of many things, like Mirabel sewing in her room or Agustín tripping over a plant pot, accidentally pulling Julieta down with him which seemed to make her smile. A newborn baby boy staring up from his birthing bed looking shocked to be in the world—nothing on the mother as she was obscured by the backs of other people around her assisting.

Bruno had no idea what that was about but another future called, something closer. Soon.

Isabela in town’s plaza and close to the renovating church, a sidewards’s view that changed as she moved, her arm shooting out before vines sprung up through town—wrapping up and pulling a figure from his spot towards her.

“No!” Not again.

The future faded into a pool of sand as the emerald formed, though his heart thudded in his chest as he stared at the image.

This was the third quarterback view, Isabela’s back mostly at them, but her posture wasn’t changed, her arm out but this time… the vines were wrapped around Camilo. A tilt though turned the image subtly but no less horrifyingly; Antonio instead in the vines.

What…could have pushed Isabela to do this, this time? Bruno had no idea… but there were a lot of missing pieces.

He just wished it gave him and time and a date….because clearly, nothing was going to end well if he couldn’t interfere, as futile as it was. He couldn’t let that happen to his sobrino just as much as he couldn’t let Isa do something without a reason. She couldn’t possibly be attacking, could she?