#this is very rushed and very unfinished but i might as well just post it....

[goodlucksnez]

DO NOT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS

MINORS FUCK OFF

WOW A POST

i know first thing since September, things have been hard. but I saved up spoons to make a wav of the lovely h/uskerd/ust. I barely tried with accents and things because again no spoons so sorry

I had this idea about h/usk losing a gamble cause of an allergen so yeah that is basically it. transcript is below sorry if it isnt the most clear I rushed it because i know if i didnt this would sit unfinished forever.

now with that being said...I think char. wavs might be stopping for a while. I dont have the time, energy nor spoons to do it, I want to but it is easier to record natural wav instead. I know for the .12% of people who will read this will not care but I wanted to lets others know!

DO NOT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS

MINORS FUCK OFF

transcript:

Angel: *walking up the the bar with a deck of cards* Hey Whiskers.

Husk: *cleaning* Hmm.

Angel: *mockingly*Ohh, come on. Don't you wanna play?

 Husk: If it will make you shut up, then I'm happy to oblige. What are we playing?

Angel: Ohh, did I get the kitty's attention? Such a gambling man.

Husk *sarcastically* You do realize who you're talking to, right?

Angel: *teasingly* Perfectly or, should I say Purrfectly.

Husk: *rolling his eyes* Oh, great. We're starting the cat puns again. As if that wasn't funny the 15th time.

Angel: I think you've had enough fun trouncing around like you are so much better than everyone, and I think that I can prove your bluff.

Husk: *laughing*

Angel: Oh, did I say something amusing?

Husk: Very much so. You think that you can con a gambler….fine. How do we make this interesting?

Angel: *smirking* Oh, I like when the Kitty has claws. Meow.

Husk: Hmm. If you win, I'll agree to wear that outfit that you bought.

Angel:  Oh, you don't mean…

Husk: Don't say it.

Angel: And what happens if you win? Not that I'm thinking that will happen, but tell me. You got me as curious as a cat.

Husk: If I win, then you'll stop with the cat puns forever.

Angel: You make a tough bargain. OK. OK. You got yourself a deal.

Husk: One round winner takes all

Angel:Perfect.

*dealing and shuffling cards*

Husk: Want to cut the deck.

Angel: Always

Husk:You seem rather cocky tonight. *sniffles and sneezes*

Angel:Trying to make me distracted already are we whiskers?

Husk: Nope. Just…Just. *Sneezing* Making conversation

Angel:Very well

Husk:Draw

Angel: Fine, fine. Hit me.

Husk:You got it.

Husk: I will also hit. *sneezing*

Angel:Bless you.

Husk: Thanks. What are you smiling at?

Angel: Nothing. I just think I'm gonna win.

Husk: Ohh. You're a terrible liar. I have gambled with human souls before. A little game of poker isn’t *hitching wipes his nose but accidentally does the hand motion to stay not hit*

Angel: That hand motion means stay.

Husk: Oh. Yeah. You're very funny, aren't you? All right.I'll give you that one. Maybe Niffy needs to dust more

 Angel: Oh, I don't think that's it. You know what? I think I'll stay. You're going to fold.

Husk *sneezing* So you're asking me if I call your bluff, huh?

Angel: Maybe.

Husk: *showing his hand*Read them and weep

Ange;” Ohh. Just the 13. Try 19 on for size.

Husk: How the fuck did you win?

Angel: Ooh, but I thought a gambler never went over his secrets.

Husk: Angel, you fucking tell me now or I swear I will….I will. *sneezing*  Ohh God. Don't you always carry something on you? Give me the shit

 Angel: I don't think it will help you because it's kind of drenched in lavender

Husk I beg your finest pardon…what

Angel: Well, I may have talked to creepy smile and well. I'm just so sick of you winning all the time. It was no fun anymore. You know, I do like to keep things up and loose. So he told me about a little issue you have with a certain smell. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to get this much.

Husk: Angel . I swear *sneezing*

Angel: Al  wasn't joking. You really are a mess with this.

T

 Husk: OK, so besides sneezing, how'd you figure it out?

Angel: Well. I know two things about you. One you'll never share anything over your face, and 2. If you're comfortable, you sit more open, relaxed, you would hunched over this entire time. And that could be from the allergic reaction that you're experiencing.

*sneezing*

Angel: or It could be from the fact that you didn't enjoy your hand. And the fact that you didn't even call me on my bluff? Well, it was obvious point past then, that I was going to win. Now Are you gonna go and be a good Kitty? *holding maid dress*

Husk:  I'm not putting it on, that was not fair. *sneezing* that was not a fair game and you know it

*walks over to angel*

Angel: All fair in love and war.,,,,,Husker. I really wouldn't walk over. I mean I'm literally covered in this, frankly, drowned a whole bottle. Wait, stop.

*Walks over and sneezes on his chest*

Angel : AHHH Fair, I guess I deserve that spray.

Husk: *hitching* I cant

Angel :You might want to step back.

*hitching*

 Angel : Ohh man, I can't watch this. OK. I'm sorry, Kitty. *rubs his nose*

Husk: wait Don't touch my nose *sneezing fit*

Angel: Breathe whisker Seriously geez. We're giving Lucifer a run for his money. ….OK OK, I'm stepping back Just breathe, OK?

*al appears*

Al: This is this an interesting sound.

Husk: Oh fuck off

Al:.But I'm here to save the day. Here below.

*husk blows his nose*

Angel :thank fuck al. I didn't think he was ever Gonna stop.

Al:  I may have forgot to mention he won't stop until he actually gets that junk out of his head. The kitten sneezing may be adorable, but it's ineffective to say the least. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go burn this. Take care.

 Angel : Are you feeling any better whiskers

Husk: Uh-huh

 Angel:OK, why don't you go lay down? I'll shower this off. And husk

Husk: hmmm

Angel: Who has the poker face now?.

[reallygroovyninja]

I want to preface the story I am about to post is garbage. No, really, it's bad. There are moments in it you can see my brain think oh shit, I need to explain myself.

If you want to read a story I am very proud of, check out The Fallen. It does have a shocking ending, which I am very sure turns people off, but I stayed faithful to the story that inspired it.

Anyway, here is unfinished Word Document 20. It's so bad I had to hide it under a cut. lol

Lexa was seated in a quaint office adorned with countless baby pictures, each snapshot a vignette of new beginnings and cherished memories. The walls, a gentle palette of pastel hues, were lined meticulously with these joyful expressions, casting a soft, hopeful glow throughout the room. The ambiance was both serene and surreal, as if Lexa had stepped into a gallery of future possibilities. 

At the desk, a woman named Marlene, who ran the agency, extended a packet of papers toward Lexa. "Based on your criteria and the comprehensive tests you completed, these are the candidates we believe match your needs," Marlene explained, her tone both professional and empathetic. She knew that the choices contained in these documents could change lives. "Once you have a shortlist, let us know. We can then provide you with their photographs. This decision is profound—it should transcend mere physical appearances." 

Lexa appreciated the process's discretion and thoroughness. She had longed for a child, a desire unmet in her past relationships, none of which revealed an alpha compelling enough to share her life's journey. Now, she sought a different route—a sperm surrogate, an alpha who would contribute to the life she wished to create and then step away, allowing her the autonomy she desired in raising her child. 

They would meet intermittently, their encounters solely intended to achieve conception. It was an arrangement devoid of traditional romantic entanglements, focused instead on the singular goal of motherhood. 

Taking the packet, Lexa began to leaf through the pages. Names, occupations, medical histories, personal hobbies, and more—details designed to paint a picture of each potential candidate. Yet, as she skimmed the information, the details seemed to meld into a blur of text. She knew she would need time and quiet to pore over these sheets, to consider who these people were beyond the data. 

Marlene watched her with a calm understanding, accustomed to the weight such decisions carried for her clients. "There’s no rush," she reassured Lexa. "Take the packet home, think over your options carefully. We're here to support you every step of the way." 

Grateful for the empathy and professionalism, Lexa nodded, clutching the documents a bit tighter as she prepared to leave. The smiling, innocent faces of the babies seemed to bid her farewell and good luck. Stepping out of the office, Lexa felt the gravity of her decision resting on her shoulders—a burden, yes, but also a beacon of the profound joy and love she hoped to welcome into her life. 

Later that evening, Lexa settled onto her couch, a glass of red wine in hand, the soft hum of her quiet home enveloping her as she spread the stack of profiles across her coffee table. The light of her living room lamp cast a cozy glow, perfect for the introspective task at hand. She had decided on a methodical approach to review each candidate: she would create two piles—one for definite no's, and another to review again. 

Taking a sip of her wine, Lexa began. One by one, she carefully read through each profile, considering the potential of each candidate not just as a genetic contributor, but as someone whose traits might mesh well with her own for the child they would share. Her fingers brushed against the papers, shifting them between the two designated areas on her table. 

There was Jacob, whose profile intrigued her right away. His interests in environmental science and community gardening hinted at a thoughtful, perhaps gentle soul. Then there was Bellamy, a police officer whose tone in the self-description came off a bit too brash for her liking; his profile radiated a certain arrogance that Lexa found off-putting. He was promptly placed in the no pile. 

As she continued, a few others passed her review—some with potential, others lacking the certain je ne sais quoi she was searching for. Finally, she reached the bottom of the stack, where a profile named Clarke rested. At first glance, something about Clarke's description didn’t quite resonate with her, and she was tempted to add it to the no pile. Yet, something—perhaps a detail she had missed or a gut feeling—nudged at her to reconsider. 

With a thoughtful frown, Lexa picked up Clarke’s profile again. This time, she read slower, trying to capture the essence behind the words. Clarke was an artist, deeply involved in local community projects, which spoke to a creative and civic-minded spirit. His brief mention of a love for old cinema and classic books hinted at depth. Lexa waffled, her initial impression clashing with the intrigue now sparked by her second, more careful reading. 

Setting Clarke's profile down on the "review again" pile, Lexa decided not to rush her judgment. She finished her wine, her mind actively weaving through the impressions each profile had left. Tonight was just the beginning. She knew the importance of this choice, not just for herself, but for her future child. She’d return to these profiles after a night’s rest, perhaps seeing them anew with fresh eyes and a clearer perspective. 

The next morning, Lexa found herself with a phone pressed to her ear, recounting the previous evening's deliberations to her cousin Anya. Anya had always been more like a sister to Lexa, providing both support and candid advice whenever Lexa needed it. 

"So, I've got these two piles," Lexa explained, her voice carrying a mix of resolve and uncertainty. "The no pile is pretty straightforward—those profiles just didn't click for me. But the 'review again' pile, that's where it gets tricky. There’s Jacob, who really seems like a gentle soul, and Clarke, who I almost passed on but decided to give another look."  

On the other end of the line, Anya listened intently, her occasional hums of agreement punctuating Lexa’s detailed descriptions of the potential alphas. When Lexa finished, there was a brief silence, the kind that hinted at Anya's deep consideration before she spoke. 

"Lex, are you sure about all this?" Anya’s voice was gentle, yet probing. "I mean, it sounds like you're really trying to convince yourself here. Aren't you giving up a bit easily on finding the right alpha? You know, the traditional way?" 

Lexa sighed, a soft sound of mixed emotions. "I know it seems like I'm rushing into this, but I've thought about it a lot. I just haven't met someone who fits what I'm looking for in a partner... someone I want to share my life with. This way, I can focus on what I really want—a child. I don’t need a romantic relationship to make that happen." 

Anya was quiet for a moment, likely weighing her next words. "I get that, I really do. But it’s a big step, Lexa. Just make sure you’re choosing this path because it’s truly what you want, not because you feel it’s your only option." 

Lexa nodded to herself, appreciating Anya's concern. "I understand, and I appreciate you looking out for me. I’m not closing the door on finding someone someday, but right now, this feels right. I want to be a mom, Anya. And I feel ready to do this on my own terms." 

Anya’s response was warm, supportive. "Then you know I'm behind you one hundred percent. Just promise me you'll think on it a little more, okay? And whatever you decide, I’m here for you." 

"Thanks, Anya. That means a lot to me," Lexa replied, feeling a comforting sense of reassurance. She knew Anya only wanted the best for her, and having her support strengthened Lexa's resolve to move forward thoughtfully and confidently. 

After ending the call with Anya, Lexa set aside the 'review again' pile of profiles on her dining table, deciding not to revisit them until later that evening. She knew the importance of the decision ahead and recognized the need to approach it with a clear mind and a settled heart. 

The conversation with Anya had stirred a mix of emotions and considerations, reinforcing the gravity of her choice. Lexa felt it crucial to give herself space—to let her initial impressions simmer and her intuition align with her logical reasoning. This pause, she believed, would help her return to the profiles with fresh eyes and a more decisive heart. 

During the day, Lexa busied herself with her usual activities, allowing her subconscious to process the morning’s conversation and her own feelings about each candidate. She went for a long walk in the park, the rhythmic steps helping to clear her mind. She met with a friend for coffee, enjoying the distraction and the normalcy of casual conversation. 

As the day turned into evening, Lexa felt more centered. She prepared a quiet space at home, with minimal distractions, lighting a candle for a touch of calm ambiance. She poured herself a glass of wine, similar to the night before, setting the stage for contemplation and decision-making. 

Sitting down, she slowly began to revisit each profile in the 'review again' pile. Lexa’s goal was to narrow her choices to two or three potential alphas—individuals who not only met her criteria on paper but whom she felt could genuinely contribute to the life and the values she hoped to nurture in her future child. With a deep breath, she delved into the profiles once more, ready to make one of the most significant decisions of her life. 

As the evening wore on, Lexa methodically revisited each profile, reflecting deeply on the characteristics and values of each potential alpha. Slowly, her list began to narrow until she was left with three names: Jacob, Roan, and Clarke. 

Jacob’s profile had an immediate and strong appeal. His dedication to environmental conservation and his gentle demeanor resonated with Lexa's own values. It seemed a natural alignment, one that suggested he would bring the kind of thoughtful and nurturing influence she desired for her child. 

Roan presented a different allure. His profile portrayed him as a resilient and ambitious individual, someone who had overcome significant challenges to achieve personal and professional success. There was a strength in Roan's narrative that Lexa admired, a testament to his character that she believed would be a valuable trait to pass on to her offspring. 

Yet, despite the compelling cases for both Jacob and Roan, Lexa found her thoughts continually drifting back to Clarke’s profile. There was an intriguing blend of creativity and intellect in his background— an artist with an Ivy League education, deeply involved in community service. His profile hinted at a complex, multifaceted personality; he was someone who valued both expression and academia, who understood the importance of giving back to the community. 

Clarke’s interests in the arts and his commitment to societal contribution painted a picture of a man who was not only educated but also empathetic and engaged with the world around him. These were traits Lexa admired and sought for her child’s upbringing. 

The more Lexa thought about Clarke, the more she realized how much his qualities appealed to her. He represented a balance of intelligence, creativity, and civic responsibility—elements that she valued deeply and imagined could foster a rich, nurturing environment for a child. 

With a thoughtful sigh, Lexa placed Jacob and Clarke’s profiles side by side, with Roan's just slightly below them. It was clear these were her finalists, each bringing something unique and valuable to the table. She knew her decision would not be easy, but she also felt reassured by the strength of her final choices. As she prepared to retire for the night, Lexa felt a quiet confidence that among these men, she would find the right partner for the journey ahead. 

On a quiet Sunday morning, with a cup of tea steaming gently beside her laptop, Lexa settled down to compose an email to the agency. The decision to request photos of her three final candidates—Jacob, Roan, and Clarke—felt like the next logical step in her carefully considered process. She knew the agency wouldn't respond until Monday, but drafting the email gave her a sense of progress and control over her choices. 

Lexa typed with deliberate care, her words reflecting the gravity of her request. She explained that she had narrowed her selection down to three potential alphas and would now like to see their photographs to aid in her final decision. Lexa stressed that while she understood the importance of not basing her choice solely on physical attraction, she believed that a certain level of physical compatibility was essential for her comfort and confidence in this unique and intimate arrangement. 

As she hit send, Lexa felt a wave of anticipation mixed with satisfaction. Each of her chosen candidates brought distinct and strong qualities to the table. Jacob with his gentle nature and environmental passion, Roan with his resilience and proven ambition, and Clarke with his creative spirit and intellectual prowess—each was appealing in a uniquely compelling way. Lexa appreciated the diversity in their profiles, which she believed would allow her to make a balanced choice based on a combination of intellectual, emotional, and physical attributes. 

Leaning back in her chair, Lexa allowed herself to feel hopeful about the next steps. She hoped that the upcoming photos would not only confirm the impressions she had formed from their profiles but also ignite a spark of attraction. The thought of conceiving a child necessitated a certain level of physical appeal, and she hoped to find that in at least one of these men, making the process of becoming a mother not just a fulfillment of a desire but also a comfortable and pleasing journey. 

With her part done for now, Lexa spent the rest of her day engaged in preparing for the new week, her mind occasionally wandering to her three candidates. The blend of curiosity and excitement for what Monday would bring was palpable, as she envisioned a future where one of these men would help her realize her dream of motherhood. 

In her office, Lexa found herself repeatedly glancing at her phone, which lay beside her keyboard—a silent testament to her growing impatience. Each time the screen lit up with a notification, she felt a jolt of anticipation, only to find emails unrelated to her personal inquiry. The response from the agency, it seemed, was taking its sweet time. 

Lexa tried to anchor her focus on the reports and spreadsheets that crowded her desktop. Her work, typically a realm where she excelled and found clarity, now felt like a cumbersome distraction. Her thoughts, disobedient and wild, fluttered incessantly towards the potential images of Jacob, Roan, and Clarke. 

She knew their basic features—hair color, eye color—but these details painted no vivid picture in her mind. What were their smiles like? How did they carry themselves? Were they tall, broad-shouldered, or had a more slender, athletic build? These unknowns spun around in her head, each a question mark adding to a mosaic of curiosity and expectation. 

Her concentration broke again, and she reached for her phone, scrolling through her inbox fruitlessly once more. With a sigh, Lexa set the device down and tried to realign her focus on a particularly complex data analysis. But even as she parsed through numbers and trends, part of her mind wandered, sketching imaginary portraits of the three men based on the scant information she had. 

The morning dragged on, each tick of the office clock a reminder of the waiting she had to endure. Lexa found herself tapping a pen against her desk, her gaze drifting towards the window, where the city below seemed indifferent to her internal turmoil. The blend of excitement and nerves was palpable, like the quiet tension that fills the air before a storm breaks. 

Finally, acknowledging her distracted state, Lexa decided to take a brief walk around the building, hoping that a change of scenery and a bit of movement would help her regain her concentration. As she strolled through the quieter parts of her workplace, she reminded herself that the decision she was about to make was significant and deserved this level of anticipation and thought. Returning to her desk refreshed, Lexa resolved to put her personal feelings aside and dive back into her work—determined to keep her professional prowess intact, even as her personal life beckoned with unanswered questions. 

As the end of the workday approached, Lexa had almost resigned herself to the idea that her eagerly awaited email from the agency wouldn't arrive until Tuesday. She felt a mixture of disappointment and relief, the delay giving her more time to prepare mentally for what those photos might reveal. 

She set her phone down one more time, focusing on shutting down her computer and organizing her desk for the evening. Just as she pushed back from her desk, her phone buzzed with the distinct chime of a new email notification. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the sender: the agency. 

Quickly, she tapped on the notification, her eyes scanning the email's contents. The agency apologized for the delay, explaining they had taken extra care to ensure the photographs matched her request for confidentiality and respect towards the candidates. Attached to the email were three files, each labeled with the name of one of her potential alphas: Jacob, Roan, Clarke. 

Lexa's thumb hovered over the attachments. A part of her wanted to open them immediately, to finally put faces to the names and profiles she had been pondering over for days. Yet, as she sat in the stillness of her office, a wave of hesitation washed over her. Was this the right place to make such a personal, potentially life-altering discovery? 

Her office, usually a space of professional decisions and work-focused thoughts, suddenly felt too impersonal, too public for this deeply private moment. She contemplated the weight of what these images represented—not just potential genetic contributors but possible co-creators of her future child. 

Deciding she needed the privacy and comfort of her own home to experience this moment, Lexa locked her phone and slipped it into her bag. Once home, she could take her time, process her reactions in her own space, and make thoughtful decisions without the confines of her professional environment. 

As she walked out of the building into the warm evening air, Lexa felt a reassuring calm settle over her. Tonight, with a cup of her favorite tea in hand, she would meet, in a way, the men who might help her fulfill her dream of motherhood. It was a meeting that deserved her full presence and undivided attention, best done in the sanctuary of her home. 

Lexa's evening unfolded with a mixture of routine and restless anticipation. After a quiet dinner, she methodically washed her dishes, the warm soapy water running over her hands as she scrubbed. This daily chore, usually a mindless task, felt different tonight. Each plate rinsed and set to dry was a moment to stall, a brief reprieve from the decision that awaited her. 

As the dishes were put away and her kitchen returned to its usual tidy state, Lexa brewed a cup of calming chamomile tea. The steam curled into the air, carrying with it a scent that usually relaxed her, but tonight it was just another step in delaying the inevitable. 

Part of her meticulous post-dinner clean-up was borne from habit, but another part was driven by a palpable apprehension. She was about to make a decision that would significantly shape her future. The man whose image she was about to view might very well be the one to help her fulfill her deep-seated desire to become a mother. This wasn't just any routine interaction; this was about selecting an alpha who would provide the genetic material to conceive her child and then, as per the agreement, step away. 

With her cup of tea in hand, Lexa finally settled onto her couch, her usual spot for unwinding after a long day, but nothing about tonight was usual. She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the warmth of the tea seep into her palms. Her phone lay next to her, an innocuous presence that now seemed daunting. 

Finally, she picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over the email app with hesitation. This action, so simple and routine, felt momentous. She opened the email once more, and there they were, the attachments waiting just a click away. Each file bore the name of a potential alpha: Jacob, Roan, and Clarke. 

Lexa tapped tentatively on the image file labeled "Jacob," her breath catching slightly in anticipation. The photo that materialized showed a man with boyish good looks, his smile gentle and inviting, eyes sparkling with a warmth that reinforced the impression of kindness his profile had suggested. Jacob's image aligned perfectly with what Lexa had envisioned—a friendly face that could bring comfort and reassurance. 

Next, she opened the file for Roan. As his image came into view, Lexa noted his longish hair and the unmistakable intensity in his gaze. His strong jawline and the serious set of his mouth gave him a rugged appearance, one that spoke of resilience and a certain sternness. Roan looked like a man who faced challenges head-on, a stark contrast to Jacob’s softer, more approachable demeanor. 

Finally, Lexa clicked on the last image, labeled "Clarke." She expected to see another male alpha, similar to the first two. However, as the image slowly loaded, her expectations were upended. The photo revealed not a man, but a striking woman with deep blue eyes and long blonde hair. Lexa stared, taken aback, as she processed the unexpected sight of a female alpha. Clarke’s presence in the photo was compelling; her gaze was direct and confident, radiating a strong sense of self-assuredness. 

Lexa’s initial shock slowly gave way to a mix of emotions. Clarke’s appearance was stunning, and there was an undeniable beauty in her features that Lexa found herself unexpectedly drawn to. This twist in her journey made Lexa pause, her mind racing through the implications. She had not considered the possibility of a female alpha, yet here was Clarke, challenging her preconceptions and expanding the horizon of her choices. 

Sitting back on the couch, Lexa took a moment to reflect. Each candidate brought something unique to the table: Jacob’s kindness, Roan’s intensity, and now Clarke’s unexpected presence—a female alpha who exuded strength and allure. Lexa knew this decision required more than a cursory glance at photographs. It was about finding a connection, a match that felt right on multiple levels. 

As she continued to gaze at Clarke’s image, Lexa felt a curious pull, a fascination that urged her to reconsider what she thought she had been looking for in an alpha. Clarke’s striking blue eyes seemed to beckon for consideration, asking Lexa to step beyond the familiar and entertain the possibilities that lay in unexpected quarters. 

As Lexa continued to sit on her couch, the images of the three alphas lingered on her phone screen, each one offering a different possibility, a different future. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside her window. Lexa found herself lost in thought, trying to envision what a child with each of these individuals might look like. 

First, there was Jacob, with his warm brown eyes and dark hair, features that gave him an approachable, boy-next-door charm. Lexa imagined a child with similar soft, dark locks, perhaps inheriting Jacob's easy smile and the inherent kindness that seemed to radiate from his expression. 

Then there was Roan, with his intense blue eyes and dark, slightly wild hair. His features were sharp, his presence in the photo almost commanding. A child with Roan might inherit those striking blue eyes, Lexa thought, along with a likely strong-willed spirit and perhaps that same sense of resilience that Roan seemed to embody. 

Finally, her mind drifted to Clarke. The image of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed alpha with a distinct chin dimple was vivid in her mind. Lexa found herself particularly curious about this feature—a charming little dimple that added so much character to Clarke's smile. Would a child with Clarke inherit that same dimple? Lexa pictured a little one with light hair and those piercing blue eyes, maybe running around with a mischievous grin punctuated by that adorable dimple. 

Each mental image brought a smile to Lexa's face but also added layers of complexity to her decision. This wasn't just about choosing a partner for conception; it was about choosing half of the genetic makeup of her future child. Each alpha not only offered different physical traits but also different backgrounds and personalities that would influence their child. 

Lexa took a deep breath, feeling both overwhelmed and excited by the possibilities. As she sipped her tea, now lukewarm, she realized that this decision would shape not just her future, but that of her child. She knew that beyond looks, she needed to consider which values and qualities she most hoped to pass on. The process felt daunting, yet the thought of motherhood filled her with a profound sense of purpose. As the evening waned, Lexa knew that these reflections were just the beginning of her journey towards making one of the most significant decisions of her life. 

After a period, Lexa felt the need to share her thoughts and get some feedback. She reached for her phone, dialed Anya, and quickly forwarded the email with the images of the alphas she was considering. 

"Hey Anya, can you check your email real quick? I sent you something important," Lexa said as soon as her cousin answered the phone. 

"Got it, let's see these candidates," Anya replied, her interest piqued. They started with Jacob, whose soft features and kind eyes made a good first impression. Then they moved on to Roan. "He looks exactly like what you’d expect an alpha to look like, doesn’t he?" Anya remarked, clearly impressed by his strong, intense demeanor. 

Lexa chuckled, "Of course, an alpha would pick the most alpha-looking of the three." 

However, the conversation took a turn when Anya opened Clarke’s image. "Oh, wow, this is a female alpha. That’s unexpected." 

Lexa nodded to herself, feeling a mix of emotions. "Yeah, it adds another layer to Clarke. I've always been attracted to female alphas, but I was open to a male alpha, thinking it might be simpler for the whole baby process." 

Anya paused, considering Lexa's words. "How do you feel about Clarke being in the mix now? This is a bit of a curveball." 

"It is," Lexa agreed. "But honestly, seeing Clarke in there, it kind of stirred something. My ex was a female alpha, too. There’s a familiarity there." 

"Sounds like Clarke’s presence is challenging some of your initial thoughts," Anya said thoughtfully. "But Lex, this is about what you want and need right now. If Clarke resonates with you more, maybe there’s more to think about here than just going the straightforward path." 

Lexa took a deep breath, feeling the weight and truth in Anya’s words. "I guess you’re right. I need to think about what each option could really mean for me and the future. Clarke being a female alpha isn’t just a detail; it’s significant to how I feel about this whole process." 

As they wrapped up their conversation, Lexa felt grateful for Anya’s insight and understanding. Discussing each candidate openly had clarified not just the practical considerations but also the emotional ones. Now, more than ever, Lexa knew her decision would not only be informed by what was expected but also by what felt right for her personally. 

With the images of the alphas now in her possession, Lexa faced a self-imposed deadline: by Friday, she needed to make her decision. The choice she was about to make was not just about selecting an alpha but choosing a co-contributor to a life-changing journey. It would set the course for her long-held dream of becoming a mother. 

Over the next two days, Lexa immersed herself in deep reflection. She had swiftly eliminated Roan from her list of potential candidates. His intensity, though initially striking, felt somewhat overpowering upon further consideration, and she realized it didn't align with the kind of parental influence she envisioned for her child. 

Now, it was down to Jacob and Clarke. Jacob, with his gentle demeanor and environmental passion, seemed like a safe and rational choice. His traits aligned well with Lexa's values, and she could easily envision him as a positive genetic influence on her child. Yet, despite the logical fit Jacob presented, Lexa found her thoughts repeatedly drifting back to Clarke. 

Clarke's presence in the selection process had been unexpected and impactful. As a female alpha, she brought a familiar dynamic that resonated deeply with Lexa, reminding her of the past. Lexa had to admit, there was a certain allure and comfort in the idea of choosing a female alpha. 

Sitting at her dining room table with both profiles laid out before her, Lexa pondered whether her inclination towards Clarke was primarily influenced by her being a female alpha. Was it the novelty and emotional resonance of Clarke's status that drew her in, or was there something more substantial in Clarke's profile that connected with her own aspirations and dreams? 

Lexa spent hours dissecting every detail in their profiles, weighing not just the emotional but also the pragmatic aspects of each choice. She considered not just who they were on paper, but who they might be in her life while conceiving a child. As she mulled over her options, Lexa tried to separate her feelings about their alpha status from what each could potentially offer as a co-contributor to her child’s genetic and cultural heritage. 

By Thursday evening, a decision began to crystallize in her mind. Lexa realized that her choice needed to be based on a balance of emotional resonance and practical considerations, a decision that felt right both in her heart and her mind.  

Friday morning dawned with a sense of resolution for Lexa. She had made her decision, and though nerves fluttered in her stomach, she was ready to take the next step. Sitting at her dining room table with her phone in hand, she dialed the number for the agency, her finger lingering over the call button for a moment before she pressed it. 

"Marlene speaking, how may I assist you today?" came the familiar, professional voice from the other end. 

"Hi Marlene, it’s Lexa Woods," she responded, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of anxiety. "I’ve made my decision regarding the alpha. I wanted to discuss it with you and see what the next steps are." 

"That's great to hear, Lexa," Marlene replied warmly. "I know this has been a thoughtful process for you. Who have you decided to go with?" 

After a slight pause, filled with a momentary doubt, Lexa affirmed, "I’ve chosen Clarke." 

"Clarke, excellent choice," Marlene said. "She brings a unique perspective and strengths. What ultimately led you to this decision?" 

Lexa hesitated, feeling a brief resurgence of her earlier indecision. "Well, there’s a lot about Clarke that resonates with me, her background, her values... and I guess the fact that she's a female alpha adds another layer of connection. I just hope I’ve made the right choice," Lexa confessed, a hint of uncertainty lacing her words. 

"Choosing an alpha is always a significant and personal decision, Lexa. It’s normal to have some last-minute doubts, but it’s important that it feels right to you. Let’s arrange a meeting with Clarke. You two can discuss everything openly, and it will also be a chance for you to address any concerns you might have before moving forward." 

"That would be very helpful," Lexa agreed, feeling reassured by Marlene's calm and understanding tone. "I think meeting her will give me the clarity to move forward confidently." 

"Perfect," Marlene responded. "I’ll arrange for you both to meet and discuss the details. You’ll also have the opportunity to sign the contracts, ensuring everything is transparent and agreed upon. I’ll look for some potential dates and get back to you as soon as possible." 

"Thank you, Marlene," Lexa said, relief washing over her. "I appreciate all your help." 

"You’re welcome, Lexa. We're here to make sure that you are comfortable and confident in your decisions. I’ll be in touch very soon with some dates for the meeting," Marlene assured her. 

As Lexa ended the call, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The decision was made, and a plan was in place. The thought of meeting Clarke and discussing the future brought a mix of excitement and a newfound peace. Lexa knew that whatever doubts she had would likely be settled once she and Clarke could sit down and talk face to face. 

Marlene had been efficient and considerate in her arrangements. She set the meeting for two weeks out, giving Lexa and Clarke ample time to prepare for their first encounter. The date was marked on Lexa’s calendar, each day inching closer filled with a blend of anticipation and nerves. 

Finally, the day of the meeting arrived. Lexa stood in front of her closet in the morning, her mind racing with the unusual complexity of choosing the right outfit. "What do you wear to a meeting with someone you are contractually going to be sleeping with in order to create a child?" she muttered to herself. The question was as surreal as her situation. 

After much deliberation, Lexa opted for something that struck a balance between professional and comfortable—an elegant blouse paired with well-fitted trousers. It was important to her that she present herself as both serious about the arrangement and approachable. 

Driving to the agency, Lexa’s hands were slightly shaking on the steering wheel. Her mind was a whirlwind of what-ifs and hopes. As she parked her car and walked toward the office building, she took deep, deliberate breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. 

The agency’s office was a space Lexa had become familiar with over the past weeks, but today, it seemed to hold a new form of gravity. Marlene greeted her warmly at the door, her smile reassuring. 

"Clarke just arrived. She’s waiting in the meeting room," Marlene informed her, leading the way. 

Lexa’s steps felt heavy yet determined as she approached the room. Marlene opened the door, and there sat Clarke, just as striking in person as she was in her photo. Her presence seemed to command the room, yet there was a softness in her eyes as she looked up and met Lexa’s gaze. 

"Lexa, meet Clarke. Clarke, this is Lexa," Marlene introduced. 

"Hi, Lexa," Clarke said, standing up to shake her hand. Her voice was calm, carrying a hint of warmth that eased some of Lexa's tension. 

"Hello, Clarke," Lexa replied, her voice steadier than she felt. The handshake was firm and brief, but Lexa felt a surprising jolt of connection—an electric mix of nerves and excitement. 

Marlene excused herself, leaving them to converse privately. "I’ll give you both some space to discuss. If you need anything, I'll be right outside," she said before closing the door gently behind her. 

In the quiet confines of the meeting room, the air thick with anticipation, Lexa and Clarke faced each other. Their initial nervousness was palpable, each aware of the significance and unusual nature of their meeting. Clarke, sensing the growing tension, decided it was time to steer the conversation towards more familiar ground. 

"So, Lexa," Clarke began, her tone casual yet curious, "Marlene didn't tell me much about your professional background. What do you do for a living?" 

Lexa, slightly surprised by the shift towards personal details, replied, "I'm an accountant. I spend most of my days surrounded by numbers and spreadsheets." 

Clarke chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up with a mix of amusement and relief at the shift to lighter conversation. "Oh, numbers and I have never been best friends. I was always the one in class who thought 'algebra' was a foreign language," she joked, a playful smile crossing her features. 

Lexa found herself smiling genuinely for the first time since the meeting began, the tension easing from her shoulders. Clarke's humor and light-heartedness were infectious, and it helped Lexa feel more at ease. Encouraged by the more relaxed atmosphere, Lexa decided to learn more about Clarke's interests. 

"I saw in your profile that you’re an artist," Lexa said, her tone shifting to one of genuine interest. "What kind of art do you do?" 

Clarke’s face brightened at the question, clearly passionate about her craft. "I work mostly with mixed media. I love exploring textures and layers—there’s something about the tactile process of creating something tangible that really excites me. It’s a way to express emotions that words can’t always capture." 

Lexa nodded, intrigued. "That sounds fascinating. Art seems like such a freeing way to express oneself." 

"It really is," Clarke agreed, her enthusiasm evident. "And every piece feels like a part of me, yet once it’s done, it belongs to the world, not just to me." 

Their conversation flowed more naturally now, the earlier awkwardness fading as they discussed their respective careers. Lexa felt a newfound appreciation for Clarke's artistic perspective, contrasting yet complementing her own methodical, numbers-driven approach. The dialogue not only bridged their understanding of each other’s professional lives but also built a deeper, more personal connection that eased their initial apprehensions about the arrangements ahead. 

After Lexa and Clarke had spent some time getting to know each other and discussing their backgrounds, the door to the conference room opened, and Marlene re-entered, a stack of papers in hand. She approached the table with a professional smile, setting down the documents before them. 

"Looks like you two have been having a good conversation," Marlene observed, taking a seat at the head of the table. She then shifted into her role as the facilitator of the process, her demeanor becoming more formal as she prepared to discuss the contracts and legalities. "I have here the draft contracts for your arrangement. Let's go through these together to ensure everything is clear and that all parties' expectations are met." 

Marlene spread the documents out so both Lexa and Clarke could see them. She began to go through each section meticulously, explaining the legal jargon and what it meant in practical terms. "This section here outlines the obligations of both parties, including medical examinations, confidentiality agreements, and the planned schedule for the conception process," she explained, pointing to each clause as she spoke. 

She then moved on to a critical part of the contract. "It's very important that both of you understand that this agreement is based on mutual consent and comfort levels. If at any point, for any reason, either of you feels that this arrangement isn't working out, you can withdraw from the contract." Marlene looked at both Lexa and Clarke earnestly, ensuring her point was clear. "This clause here provides the details on how to terminate the agreement respectfully and legally without facing any penalties." 

Marlene paused to allow Lexa and Clarke to absorb the information, checking their faces for any signs of confusion or concern. "Do either of you have any questions about this part, or is there anything in the agreement that you would like to discuss further or modify?" 

Lexa and Clarke exchanged a glance, both appreciating the agency's emphasis on their comfort and autonomy within the process. Clarke nodded, indicating she understood and appreciated the terms, "It's reassuring to know that there's flexibility if the circumstances change." 

Lexa echoed Clarke’s sentiment. "Yes, I agree. It's important to have a way out if things don’t feel right. It makes the whole arrangement feel safer, more considered." 

Marlene nodded, pleased with their responses. "Absolutely, we want to make sure you both feel secure and supported throughout this process." She then continued to go through the rest of the contract, covering financial arrangements, the handling of medical data, and the support services the agency would provide. 

As the meeting drew to a close, Marlene handed each of them a pen. "Take your time to read through everything once more on your own. If you’re ready, you can sign today, or you can take the contracts home and think things over. We want you to make a decision when you're completely ready." 

As Marlene finished outlining the terms and left the choice to sign immediately or take the contracts home for further consideration, Clarke turned her gaze towards Lexa, silently seeking her input on how to proceed. The moment was charged with significance; the decision to sign now would cement their agreement, setting them firmly on a path toward a shared, albeit unique, journey. 

Lexa held Clarke’s gaze for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She could feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach, but beneath that, a steady current of resolve. This was what she wanted, and every interaction and discussion up to this point had only solidified her confidence in her choice. 

Finally, with a nod to herself, Lexa reached for the pen that Marlene had placed on the table. Her hand was steady as she picked it up, and with a decisive motion, she signed her name on the dotted line. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper seemed to echo in the room, marking a significant milestone in her journey to motherhood. 

Clarke watched Lexa sign, noting the determination and clarity in her actions. Seeing Lexa make her decision with such resolve helped dispel any lingering hesitations Clarke might have had. Inspired by Lexa's confidence and encouraged by the thoroughness and fairness of the contract, Clarke picked up her own pen. With a thoughtful look at Lexa, acknowledging her readiness and mutual commitment, Clarke signed her name as well. 

As they both put their pens down, a sense of relief and anticipation filled the room. Marlene, witnessing this, offered them both a warm, reassuring smile. "Thank you both for your trust and courage in this process. I’ll make sure everything is processed promptly, and I’ll be here to support you both through every step that follows." 

Lexa and Clarke exchanged a look, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had just agreed to embark on together. There was a mutual understanding that while the road ahead would be uncharted and not without its challenges, they were now linked by a shared commitment to bring a new life into the world, each in their respective roles. 

As Lexa and Clarke gathered their belongings and prepared to leave the conference room, Marlene interjected with one final point of order, outlining the next steps in their newly formalized agreement. 

"Before you both go, I want to discuss the logistics of your first official meeting," Marlene began, her tone shifting back to her professional demeanor. "The agency has protocols in place to ensure the safety and comfort of all parties involved, especially during initial meetings." 

She pulled out a small tablet and tapped a few times on the screen, pulling up a schedule. "We prefer to arrange the meetings on neutral ground. It helps maintain privacy and provides a secure environment for both of you." Marlene looked up from her tablet, making sure she had both Lexa and Clarke’s attention. 

"For this purpose, we usually arrange for a hotel room. This setting not only ensures confidentiality but also allows you both to meet in a neutral, comfortable environment without the pressures or personal biases that might come from meeting in a more personal space," Marlene explained. She assured them that the agency had longstanding arrangements with a reputable hotel chain known for its discretion and high standards of service. 

"We’ll handle all the bookings and logistics. You won’t need to worry about any of the arrangements," she continued. "I’ll send you both the details and date options for your first meeting. You can choose what works best for both of you." 

Marlene’s explanation provided a clear framework for how the initial stages of their agreement would proceed, emphasizing the agency’s commitment to maintaining a professional and secure process. "Safety and comfort are our top priorities. We want to ensure that both of you feel secure and at ease during your meetings." 

Lexa and Clarke nodded in understanding, appreciating the thoroughness with which the agency was handling the situation. The idea of meeting in a hotel for the first few times made sense, and the agency’s attention to detail and safety was reassuring. 

"Once I have everything arranged, I will send you an email with all the information, including the date, time, and location of the hotel. You will both have access to the private suite, and agency staff will be available on-call, should you need any assistance during the meeting," Marlene concluded, her tone both serious and comforting. 

With everything laid out so clearly and professionally, Lexa and Clarke felt more confident about the steps ahead. They thanked Marlene for her assistance and left the office with a sense of readiness for the next phases of their journey together. The agency’s meticulous planning and support made a complex process seem manageable and secure. 

As soon as Lexa got back into her car, she couldn't resist the urge to share the events of the meeting with Anya. She quickly dialed her cousin, who picked up after just a couple of rings. 

"Hey, Lex, how did it go?" Anya's voice was eager but tinged with concern. 

"It was... good, really good," Lexa began, her voice carrying a mix of relief and excitement. "Clarke is nothing like I expected. She’s very grounded and seems genuinely interested in making sure this works out for the best." 

"Oh? And how does she look? Did she match up to her picture?" Anya asked, her tone playful yet probing. 

Lexa laughed softly, a blush creeping across her cheeks even though Anya couldn’t see it. "Yes, she looks just like her photo. But her eyes, Anya, they’re this striking shade of blue. It’s almost mesmerizing." 

There was a brief pause before Anya responded, her voice now carrying a note of caution. "Lex, remember this is a business arrangement. Don’t get carried away because of pretty eyes. You told me she’s there for the money, right?" 

Lexa sighed, knowing Anya was just looking out for her. "Yes, I know. And yes, the financial aspect is a part of this for her, like it is for many alphas. But she doesn’t make it feel transactional, you know? She's professional but also really considerate." 

Switching topics slightly, Lexa then shared more details about the arrangements that had been made for their upcoming interactions. "Marlene arranged for us to meet in a hotel. It’s a neutral place, which the agency has set up for safety and privacy. They’ve really thought of everything to make sure both parties feel secure." 

Anya listened intently, her initial skepticism giving way to understanding. "That sounds sensible. They seem to be handling things very professionally. Just... be careful, Lex. I know you, and I know how easily you can get attached." 

Lexa nodded to herself, taking in Anya’s advice. "I’ll be careful. I promise. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open—figuratively and literally," she added with a chuckle, trying to keep the mood light. 

"Good to hear," Anya replied, her tone softening. "Keep me updated, okay? And if you need to talk, anytime, I’m here." 

"Will do. Thanks, Anya. I really appreciate it," Lexa said, feeling grateful for having someone like Anya to confide in. 

With that, they ended the call, and Lexa sat for a moment in the quiet of her car, reflecting on the conversation. She felt a blend of caution and excitement—a cocktail of emotions that she would need to manage carefully as she navigated this uncharted path. 

Lexa stared at the computer screen, her eyes tracing over the details outlined in the email. The room at the Arkadia Hotel was booked under the agency's name, providing an added layer of privacy and discretion with the room number assigned to Lexa being "439". The preparations were meticulous, reflecting the seriousness and sensitivity of their upcoming encounter. 

As she absorbed the reality of the arrangement, Lexa's mind wandered to the intricate details of alpha and omega biology—a fundamental aspect that dictated the unique way they could conceive. The biological necessity for an alpha to 'knot' during intercourse to successfully conceive was an evolutionary trait, deeply embedded in their genetics. It was a process designed to enhance the probability of conception, ensuring that during the crucial moments, the alpha's body could maximize the chance of fertilizing the omega's egg. 

This biological imperative was at the forefront of Lexa's thoughts as she contemplated her meeting with Clarke. The concept was still somewhat surreal to her. On one hand, the scientific aspect of it made sense, and she respected the biological processes involved. On the other hand, facing the reality of engaging intimately with someone who was essentially a stranger, even with mutual agreement and understanding, was daunting. 

The part of Lexa that hesitated wasn't concerned with the logistics or the biological necessities—those were facts she had come to terms with when she decided on this path. Instead, it was the emotional aspect, the vulnerability of sharing such a personal experience with someone she hadn't known long. Yet, despite these reservations, the stronger part of her—the part driven by her deep desire to become a mother—was prepared to move forward. 

As she sat there, Lexa reminded herself why she had chosen this path. It wasn't just about fulfilling her desire to have a child; it was about doing so in a way that felt right to her, under terms she had carefully considered and agreed upon. Clarke, too, had her reasons for participating, and their prior meeting had laid a foundation of mutual respect and understanding. 

With each passing moment, Lexa's resolve grew stronger. She knew that the biological processes were just one part of the equation. The more significant component was her readiness to embrace the responsibilities and joys of motherhood. By the time she closed her laptop, Lexa felt a quiet confidence. She was ready for Saturday—not just to meet the biological demands of the process, but to take a significant step towards a future she had long envisioned for herself. 

Lexa arrived at the Arkadia Hotel promptly at 4 PM, her heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and resolve. The hotel's lobby was bustling with activity, but she navigated through it with a sense of purpose, her focus fixed on the task ahead. At the front desk, she confirmed her identity discreetly, referring only to the reservation number and the agency's name. The clerk handed her a key card with a polite, professional smile that didn't probe too deeply into the reasons for her stay. 

With key card in hand, Lexa made her way to her room, her steps measured and her mind racing. The hallways of the hotel were elegantly carpeted and softly lit, creating an atmosphere of privacy and tranquility that helped soothe her escalating anxiety. Each step brought her closer to a moment that might very well define her future. 

Standing before the door marked with the number 439, Lexa paused, her hand hovering over the key card reader. She knew that behind this door, preparations would need to be made, both mentally and physically, before Clarke's arrival. The agency had arranged for Clarke to arrive later, giving Lexa ample time to acclimate to the environment, to settle her thoughts, and to prepare herself emotionally and physically for what was to come. 

All she had to do was swipe the key card and step inside. Taking a deep breath, Lexa steadied her trembling hand and slid the card through the reader. The light blinked green, and a soft click signaled her access. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the room. 

The room was tastefully decorated, neutral tones and soft lighting crafting a calming environment. There was an understated elegance to it, conducive to both comfort and privacy. Lexa let her gaze sweep over the space—the king bed, the sitting area with its inviting sofa, and a small work desk that faced a large window with curtains drawn. 

Closing the door behind her, Lexa allowed herself a few moments to just stand and absorb the reality of her surroundings. This was the setting where she hoped her dream of motherhood would begin to materialize. It felt surreal, yet incredibly real at the same time. 

She placed her small overnight bag on the bed, unpacking a few personal items to make the space feel more familiar. Lexa then spent some time simply sitting on the edge of the bed, collecting her thoughts. She reflected on her journey to this point—the decisions made, the fears confronted, and the hopes cherished. 

As the time ticked closer to 6 PM, Lexa prepared herself, changing into something comfortable yet appropriate for the occasion. She reminded herself why she was here, focusing on the positive outcomes she hoped to achieve. This was about more than just the mechanics of conception; it was about taking control of her destiny and shaping the future she desired. 

By the time Lexa heard a knock at the door just after 6 PM, signaling Clarke’s arrival, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and clarity. She was ready to open the door, not just to Clarke, but to the possibilities that lay ahead. 

Lexa walked to the door, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. She reached out, her hand almost trembling as she turned the handle. The door swung open, and there stood Clarke, her presence as compelling in person as it had been in their previous meeting. Clarke offered Lexa a shy, somewhat tentative smile—a softening of her usually confident demeanor that made her seem more approachable in this intensely personal setting. 

"Hi, Lexa," Clarke greeted with a quiet warmth, her voice carrying a hint of nervous anticipation. 

"Hello, Clarke. Come in," Lexa replied, stepping aside to allow Clarke entry into the room. Her heart was beating fast, but she managed to maintain a composed exterior. 

Clarke stepped past the threshold, her eyes quickly scanning the room as she entered. The soft lighting and tasteful decor seemed to impress her, and a small, appreciative smile appeared on her face. "This is a nice room," she commented, her tone carrying genuine approval. "The agency really does ensure comfort, don't they?" 

"Yes, they do," Lexa responded, closing the door behind Clarke. She felt a slight relief that the initial moment of greeting was over, and now they could proceed with the reason they were both there. "They try to make this as comfortable as possible for everyone involved." 

Clarke nodded, setting down a small bag she had brought with her. She looked around, taking in the environment that would play a significant role in the next steps they were about to take. The room, was designed to be calming, a sanctuary from the outside world and the weight of the decisions made within its confines. 

Turning back to Lexa, Clarke's initial shyness seemed to melt away slightly as she became more accustomed to the setting. "I appreciate the effort to make everything feel serene. It helps," she admitted, meeting Lexa’s eyes with a more steady gaze. 

Lexa nodded, feeling a similar gratitude for the care taken to create a space that respected the gravity of their meeting. "I agree. It makes things a little easier," she said, managing a small smile. 

There was a brief pause as both women acknowledged the situation, the room serving as a silent witness to their agreement and the hopes tied to it. Then, almost instinctively, Lexa gestured towards the small sitting area. "Would you like something to drink? Maybe some water or coffee before we... start?" 

Clarke agreed, appreciating the offer to ease into the moment more gently. "Water would be great, thank you," she said, her voice steady but still carrying a trace of the nerves they both felt. 

As Lexa went to get the water, the air between them filled with a quiet acknowledgment of the partnership they were about to embark upon, each aware of the significance of their actions, yet comforted by the shared understanding and the meticulously arranged environment that surrounded them. 

Clarke made her way to the sofa, settling into the soft cushions with a slight exhale that betrayed her underlying nervousness. Lexa opened the mini-fridge, retrieving a bottle of water which she handed to Clarke with a gentle, reassuring smile. The small, ordinary gesture seemed to anchor them both amidst the swirling emotions of the occasion. 

Lexa lingered by the edge of the sitting area, her hands clasped in front of her, unsure of her next move. The room, while comfortable and inviting, suddenly felt too vast, filled with unspoken expectations and the weight of their impending decision. 

Clarke noticed Lexa's hesitation and patted the space next to her on the sofa. "Why don't you sit here?" she suggested, her voice carrying a soft but clear invitation. "It might be more comfortable to talk this way." 

Lexa nodded, grateful for Clarke's lead. She moved to the sofa, taking a seat at a respectful distance that still allowed for private conversation. She could feel the warmth of Clarke's presence beside her, a comforting reminder that they were in this together. 

Once settled, Clarke unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and took a sip, then turned slightly to face Lexa. She initiated some light conversation, perhaps recognizing the need to ease into the deeper discussions that lay ahead. "So, how was your day before coming here? Anything interesting happen?" 

Lexa took a moment to switch gears from the intense internal monologue she had been engaged in all day. "Oh, it was pretty routine," she replied, managing a small chuckle. "Just some last-minute work stuff and mentally preparing for today. What about you? Did you find time to do any art today?" 

Clarke shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips. "Not today, unfortunately. But I did spend some time in the studio yesterday. It helps clear my mind, you know?" 

"Yeah, I can imagine," Lexa responded, feeling the conversation begin to flow more naturally between them. "Art seems like a great way to express and maybe even sort through feelings, especially with everything that's going on." 

Clarke nodded, visibly relaxed as the topic turned to her passion for art. "Exactly. It's not just about creating something beautiful or interesting. It's also therapeutic. It gives me a space to process things—a bit like an escape, but also a way to confront emotions directly." 

As they continued talking, the atmosphere between Lexa and Clarke began to shift subtly. Clarke's discussion about her art opened a window into her inner world, showing Lexa the passion and depth that motivated her work. The conversation seemed to flow effortlessly now, with each topic leading seamlessly into the next, covering everything from favorite artists to the influence of different art forms on society. 

The air lightened around them, filled with shared laughter and nods of understanding, as the initial awkwardness melted away under the warmth of genuine connection. They found common ground in unexpected places and differed in others, which only added layers to their interaction, making it richer, more textured. 

About 30 minutes into their conversation, as they were discussing the emotional power of color in visual art, Clarke reached out and gently took Lexa's hand. Lexa felt a sudden impulse to retract her hand, startled by the unexpected contact. The moment hung between them, charged with the potential for deeper connection or withdrawal. But as she met Clarke’s eyes, Lexa saw the intention there—soft, unassuming, aiming to add a layer of intimacy and reassurance to their conversation. 

Understanding Clarke’s gesture as an effort to bridge the gap between them further, Lexa relaxed and allowed her hand to stay in Clarke’s gentle grasp. The touch was comforting, grounding, and it brought a new level of openness to their dialogue. 

Clarke’s thumb brushed lightly over Lexa’s hand, a soothing motion that seemed to anchor them both more firmly in the present moment. "Art is my way of understanding the world, and sometimes of escaping it," Clarke shared, her voice soft but resonant. "It's personal, yes, but sharing it feels like extending a part of myself to others, hoping they might understand or feel something too." 

Lexa nodded, feeling the truth of those words resonate within her. "I think that's brave—putting a piece of yourself into your work and then putting it out there for the world to see and experience." 

The atmosphere between Lexa and Clarke thickened with unspoken promises as the moments stretched on, each second building upon the last. Clarke's gaze intensified, conveying a mix of curiosity and boldness as she leaned in closer to Lexa. Her movements were deliberate, aimed at closing the distance between them with a cautious yet clear intent. When their eyes met, there was a silent exchange, a question posed and an answer given without words. 

Clarke's lips touched Lexa's softly at first, a gentle test of boundaries that was sweet and tentative. The world around them seemed to pause, holding its breath along with them. Lexa's response was subtle but encouraging, enough to spur Clarke on. Pulling back slightly, Clarke searched Lexa’s eyes once more, seeking reassurance. What she found was a quiet acceptance, a willingness to explore the emotions that were beginning to simmer between them. 

Emboldened by Lexa's silent affirmation, Clarke leaned in once more, this time with a firmer resolve. Her lips met Lexa's with more purpose, conveying a deeper intent. The kiss deepened, driven by a blend of newfound affection and a shared desire to discover more about each other through this new, unspoken language. 

As the intensity of their kisses grew, so did their need for each other's closeness. The initial cautious exploration gave way to a more passionate expression of their burgeoning connection. Clarke’s hands found their way to Lexa's cheeks, holding her gently yet firmly, anchoring her as they navigated this new terrain together. Lexa responded in kind, her hands threading through Clarke's hair, pulling her closer, deepening their embrace. 

The kisses evolved, becoming a profound dialogue of their lips and breaths, each kiss building upon the last, growing more fervent, more insistent. The connection sparked between them ignited something deeper, a flame that had been cautiously kindled now threatening to burn brightly. 

Eventually, the need for air forced them apart, and they pulled back, each catching their breath, their foreheads resting against each other. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, heavy and warm. The room around them came back into focus slowly, the sounds of the city beyond the walls creeping back into their awareness. 

Clarke and Lexa remained close, neither willing to break the connection entirely. Their eyes met again, this time reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability after sharing such a potent moment. The initial purpose of their arrangement still loomed in the background, but what had transpired between them now added a profound layer of intimacy and complexity to their relationship. This was no longer just about an agreement or a process—it was about them, here and now, together in a way that was unexpectedly profound. 

In the quiet aftermath of their breathless exchange, the air between Clarke and Lexa was charged with a new, palpable energy. Clarke, sensing the shift in their dynamic, slowly stood up from the sofa. There was a silent invitation in her posture, a gentle yet unmistakable beckoning as she extended her hand toward Lexa. 

Lexa watched Clarke's movement, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face. There was a moment of hesitation, a brief internal debate visible in her eyes as she considered Clarke's offered hand. It symbolized more than just a physical gesture; it was an invitation to continue exploring the depth of connection they had unexpectedly discovered. 

With a subtle nod to herself, as if making a decision, Lexa placed her hand in Clarke’s. The contact was electric, reigniting the spark that had flared between them moments before. Pulled by a force that felt both thrilling and inevitable, Lexa stood, bringing her face to face with Clarke once again. 

They stood there, hand in hand, close enough to feel each other's breath. The world around them seemed to fade, narrowing down to the space they shared. Lexa's eyes locked onto Clarke's, searching, questioning, and finding answers in the deep blue that stared back at her with an intensity that matched her own. 

Without breaking eye contact, Clarke leaned in, her movements deliberate and full of intention. Lexa’s breath hitched, her body and mind anticipating the contact that was to come. As their lips met again, the kiss was different from the ones before. This time it was charged with the energy of standing together, of the decision to step into this space as equals, partners in whatever was unfolding between them. 

The kiss deepened naturally, their bodies instinctively moving closer until they were embracing fully, the world around them completely forgotten. Clarke's hands moved to Lexa’s lower back, pulling her closer, while Lexa’s arms wrapped around Clarke’s neck, anchoring herself to the moment, to Clarke. 

In that kiss, they communicated more than could be expressed in words. It was a promise, a commitment not just to the process they were undertaking but an acknowledgment of the vulnerability and strength found in true intimacy. 

As the intensity of their kisses deepened, Clarke gently guided Lexa towards the bed, their hands intertwined, conveying trust and mutual desire. The steps were few but filled with anticipation, each one marking a deeper commitment to the moment and to each other. As they reached the edge of the bed, their lips barely parted, sustaining the connection that had now become their world. 

Standing beside the bed, Clarke’s hands slowly found the edge of Lexa’s shirt. Each touch was careful, measured, filled with an unspoken question that Lexa answered with a slight nod, a breathless "yes" whispered between kisses. Clarke’s fingers trembled slightly—not with hesitation but with the gravity of the moment, aware of the trust Lexa was placing in her. 

With each piece of clothing that Clarke gently removed, Lexa felt a layer of her defenses dissolve, not just exposing her skin but opening up deeper parts of herself. Clarke’s touch was reverent, filled with care and attentiveness that spoke volumes. She took her time, ensuring that each movement, each kiss that followed the removal of a garment, honored the vulnerability and strength Lexa displayed. 

Lexa, for her part, felt an overwhelming sense of being cared for. It was not just the physical undressing but the way Clarke managed every action with such gentleness—it made her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t anticipated in this arrangement. Each kiss Clarke planted on her newly exposed skin wasn't just sensual but comforting, affirming their connection and Clarke’s respect for her. 

As Lexa stood there, with Clarke’s hands skillfully and tenderly ensuring her comfort, she found herself more assured with each passing second. The vulnerability of being undressed was overshadowed by the security Clarke’s demeanor provided. It was a strange, beautiful dichotomy—standing there exposed yet feeling entirely safe. 

When Lexa was finally free of her clothing, Clarke paused, giving her a moment to adjust. She looked into Lexa’s eyes, seeking any signs of discomfort or withdrawal. Seeing none, only a quiet gratitude and trust, Clarke leaned in for another kiss, this one conveying her appreciation for Lexa’s trust. 

They moved together onto the bed, their movements synchronized, a dance guided by mutual understanding and the desire to maintain the emotional connection that had become as vital as their physical one.  

As they shifted together on the soft expanse of the bed, Clarke carefully positioned herself between Lexa's legs. The air around them was thick with anticipation, yet Clarke made no immediate move to continue. Instead, she paused, her eyes lifting to meet Lexa's in a silent, searching communication. The intensity of her gaze was soft but intent, probing gently for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty in Lexa's expression. 

Lexa, feeling Clarke’s gaze upon her, understood the unspoken question hanging between them. The world seemed to hold its breath as she considered her feelings, the warmth of Clarke's body an anchoring presence. In Clarke's eyes, she saw not just desire but a profound care and patience. It was clear Clarke was ready to stop at the slightest hint of reluctance, ready to put Lexa’s emotional well-being above all else. 

Feeling a surge of trust and a deep, affirming connection to Clarke, Lexa reached up, her hand gently caressing Clarke’s cheek. Her touch was tender, meant to reassure as much as to give consent. With a soft smile that spoke volumes, Lexa nodded slightly, her eyes conveying her readiness and appreciation for Clarke’s considerate approach. 

Clarke, receiving the clear, affirmative response she had sought, allowed a relieved and grateful smile to curve her lips. But still, she moved slowly, maintaining eye contact as she gradually resumed closing the distance between them. Her actions were deliberate and unhurried, ensuring Lexa remained comfortable. 

As they lay together on the bed, the world outside the soft cocoon of their room seemed distant and unimportant. Clarke's kisses were tender and deliberate, focusing solely on Lexa's lips with a gentle insistence that spoke volumes. Each touch was filled with the silent communication that had become their language—a language of looks that asked and answered without words. 

Clarke, ever attentive to Lexa's comfort and readiness, made no attempt to escalate beyond their kissing. She was content to explore the contours of Lexa's lips, the soft exchanges grounding and deepening their connection. The slow, purposeful pace she set was like a melody, soft and rhythmic, designed to soothe and affirm. 

Lexa, enveloped in the warmth of Clarke's nearness, felt a blossoming desire to move forward, driven not just by physical need but by the emotional intimacy they were weaving with each kiss. Feeling a growing urgency, Lexa began to gently shift her hips beneath Clarke, a subtle movement but a clear indication of her readiness to deepen their physical connection. Her movements were hesitant at first, testing Clarke’s response, seeking to communicate her desires without disrupting the harmony of their current engagement. 

Clarke, ever so perceptive to Lexa’s cues, felt the gentle undulation of Lexa's hips against her. She paused, their lips parting slightly as she sought Lexa's eyes. In them, Clarke found not just the green light she needed but a spark of deeper desire, a silent plea to bridge the gap between affection and passion. 

Sensing Lexa's readiness, Clarke allowed a moment for them both to acknowledge the shift in their dynamic. She gave a small, affirming smile, her hands framing Lexa's face as if to say she understood, and she was there with her, every step of the way. 

Encouraged by Lexa's clear communication, Clarke deepened their kiss, her movements becoming more assured, more aligned with the rising tide of their desires. Her hands, which had been content to cradle Lexa’s face, now wandered with purpose, tracing paths down her neck and shoulders, mapping the terrain of her skin with a reverent touch. 

Lexa responded in kind, her own hands exploring Clarke’s back, pulling her closer, reducing the space between them to nothing. Their movements became a dance, a give and take that spoke of mutual desire —a dance that promised to carry them forward into the next chapter of their night together. 

As the depth of their connection grew more intense, Clarke remained acutely aware of the trust Lexa had placed in her. With every move she made, Clarke was considerate, her actions measured and gentle to ensure she maintained the sanctity of that trust. When the moment came to deepen their physical connection further, Clarke approached it with a profound sense of responsibility and care. 

With a reassuring look into Lexa's eyes, Clarke sought silent permission to continue, waiting for a nod of assent before proceeding. Lexa's response, a soft affirmation accompanied by a nervous but trusting smile, gave Clarke the green light she needed. Very slowly, Clarke began to slide closer, merging their bodies in the most intimate of ways. 

Clarke's movements were slow, almost painstakingly so, as she carefully navigated this new level of closeness. She was acutely conscious of Lexa's reactions, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. As Clarke gradually slid into Lexa, she made sure to control her movements, giving Lexa time to adjust to the new sensations. 

"Are you alright?" Clarke whispered, her voice low and soothing.  

Lexa, feeling the care with which Clarke moved, nodded, her initial tension easing under Clarke's attentive gaze. "Yes," she breathed out, a hint of relief in her voice as she found the sensation different but not unpleasant, her body slowly adapting to Clarke's presence. 

Clarke paused, allowing Lexa a moment to get accustomed to the feeling, her hand gently caressing Lexa's arm in a comforting gesture. The room was filled with a tense but tender energy, each aware of the significance of the moment. 

As Lexa relaxed more, Clarke continued, still cautious, moving in a rhythm dictated by Lexa's responses. Every slight adjustment, every careful motion was made with Lexa’s comfort in mind. Clarke’s focus was entirely on Lexa, ensuring that her experience was as gentle and loving as possible. 

As Clarke and Lexa continued their intimate connection, the intensity of their movements gradually built up. Clarke, ever attentive to Lexa's comfort and reactions, had initially maintained a slow and gentle rhythm, ensuring that every motion was measured and considerate. However, as the moments passed, the natural progression of their physical responses began to drive the pace. 

Clarke could feel the building pressure of her own impending release, a physical response that would soon reach its peak. She knew it was crucial for Lexa to be ready for her knot. This required a careful balance, speeding up her movements to match the escalating intensity while ensuring Lexa was not overwhelmed. 

With a deep breath to steady her nerves and focus her intentions, Clarke began to gradually increase the rhythm of her hips, her movements becoming more deliberate. "Lexa," she murmured softly, her voice a blend of desire and concern, "I'm getting close. Just let me know if you need me to slow down, okay?" 

Lexa, caught up in the rising tide of sensation, nodded, her breath coming in quicker gasps. She placed her hands on Clarke's hips, a silent signal of her engagement and readiness. Lexa's eyes, wide and focused, locked with Clarke's, communicating her trust and willingness to continue. 

Clarke, reassured by Lexa's response, carefully monitored her own body's signals while also watching Lexa's reactions closely. She adjusted her movements, aligning them with Lexa's subtle cues and the increasing demands of her own body. The tempo of her hips quickened in a controlled manner, each thrust deeper and more purposeful. 

As Clarke navigated this critical juncture, her focus was split between her own physiological responses and Lexa's comfort. She was acutely aware of the importance of timing and coordination in this moment for achieving their goal. 

The air hummed with the rhythm of their synchronized breaths, the faint whisper of skin gliding against skin. Clarke felt the imminent onset of her climax, the pressure mounting inexorably. She continued to move with a mixture of urgency and care, prepared to guide both herself and Lexa through the intensity of the experience. 

Their connection, both physical and emotional, had deepened throughout their encounter, each moment building upon the last to create a profound bond. As Clarke approached her peak, she held Lexa's gaze, seeking and finding the reassurance she needed to let go, trusting that Lexa was with her every step of the way. 

As the crescendo of Clarke's movements reached its peak, the inevitable moment of release washed over her with overwhelming intensity. Her body tensed, every muscle straining under the force of her climax. The world narrowed to the profound connection between them, a visceral link that pulsed with each beat of her heart. 

Overwhelmed by the surge of sensations, Clarke's strength waned, and she could no longer support herself. Gently, she collapsed onto Lexa, her breath ragged and heavy, echoing in the quiet of the room. Her body molded against Lexa's, a perfect fit that spoke volumes of their physical and emotional synchrony throughout this intimate journey. 

After her release, Clarke sought to maintain their closeness, turning her face towards Lexa's neck. She pressed soft kisses there, near Lexa's pulse point where she could feel the rapid beat of Lexa's heart against her lips. Clarke’s breath warmed Lexa’s skin, her exhales becoming slower and more measured as she gradually regained her composure. 

The room was filled with a palpable sense of completion and tranquility, the lingering tension dissolving into a peaceful stillness. Lexa murmured gently into Clarke's ear, her voice low and soothing, "Thank you," a simple phrase that carried the weight of her appreciation for Clarke’s participation in such a profound moment. 

Lexa, feeling Clarke's weight comfortably against her, wrapped her arms around Clarke, holding her close. She responded in kind, her own breathing syncing with Clarke’s as they both relaxed into the afterglow. Lexa’s fingers trailed softly down Clarke’s back, grounding her with gentle, reassuring touches that conveyed her own deep sense of connection and care. 

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello everyone! I'm starting it off today, cause I have a lot to say!

It is December, what the FUCK! This means it is also the start of the annual @klaineadvent, my favourite fic challenge of all time. Unfortunately for me, time is not an illusion and I didn't realise it was December 1st this soon and I haven't really outlined my fic idea, but I have started on it and I have ideas turning in my head. You can read the first chapter on this blog, on my AO3 or on S&C. Yes, I post on S&C. More Klainers should do that.

The 2023 fic is still unfinished. I think what matters to me is that I start on time, not if I finish in time. It also helps that I have the slight advantage of knowing all the 21 prompts in advance, cause together with @mynonah I made the graphics with the prompts, which was exciting!

But that's enough of Klaine for now. I am still writing my extensive Class fic and have six sentences of that:

“We use a shimmer to hide our true looks,” Quill tells him, “We have another one, but we didn’t know how to activate it. Tanya’s found someone who might help." “There’s a girl our age from Ealing who can fix alien tech,” Tanya explains, “I, uh, hacked UNIT again and found a file about her.” Tanya hacking a United Nations department, again, isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened in a while.

Yes, the girl from Ealing is Sky, but she won't be a part of this story apart from two references. But hey, she can manipulate alien tech, so she can probably create a shimmer for April.

[Tenth Doctor voice] Sssssshimmer!!

I have passed 12K words, which is insane and very unexpected, but I think there is an end in sight. I just have to write it. And also, in order to reach that end, I have to kill a big darling of mine, and I hate it. More on that under the cut underneath the weather, since I don't want to clog up people's dashes.

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @coffeegleek @caramelcoffeeaddict @raenestee @tectonicduck 

@nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer

@that-disabled-princess @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla​ @wellbelesbian​

@artsyunderstudy​ @facewithoutheart​ @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites 

@whatevertheweather @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @esilher @kurtsascot @blackberrysummerblog 

@nightimedreamersghost @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thnxforknowingme @martsonmars

Okay, so, there is a Class fic called Dear Matti by @bazwillendinflames and in that fic Matteusz has a younger sister named Marcelina. Ellie has more fics with Marcelina as well. I adore her. Matteusz having a younger sister adds so, so much to his character. She's basically canon to me. And because of that, I asked Ellie years ago if I could add her to my Doctor Who clusterfuck (A rip in time) and Ellie said yes, and that happened! So when I decided to write a fic with Matteusz as the main character, I wanted to add Marcelina again and I was going to ask Ellie if that was okay (hi Ellie if you're reading this!). I just needed to figure out how to add her to this insane story before asking, instead of asking it and failing to deliver (oops).

The thing is... I have come to the conclusion that she fits nowhere in my fic, and in order to get to the ending I want to achieve, I will have to cut her out.

Like, I have a very, very specific scene with Matti and Cela in mind, but I cannot find a place for it, and it deviates from the storyline that I have. In fact, it would add a completely new conflict that either won't get resolved at all (which is bad), or will be resolved in a very rushed and unsatisfying way (also bad). The idea is that Marcelina shows up at Charlie, Quill and Matteusz's house with the news that her parents want to move back to Poland with her, but without Matteusz. (She waited at Coall Hill, recognised Ram from an earlier scene, and asked him to take her to the house). The parents' reasoning is that the UK has made Matteusz gay or something and therefore they do not want to expose Marcelina to that and think it's in her best interest to take her back to Poland. Conflict, drama, la homophobia! In the end, Matteusz and Marcelina win and Marcelina gets to stay with him in the UK. How? Dunno yet. But obviously, this is a big thing and cannot be resolved in a few in-universe days, but I am also currently planning on ending the fic in order for it to not drag on.

I tried placing this scene earlier in the story to give them more time to resolve it, but that would throw off the rest of the story. I tried coming up with an alternative scene between the two of them, but that might lead to some plot holes. I tried changing Marcelina's role in the fic, but it all comes down to the parents' homophobia and that cannot get resolved in a few days. I genuinely think it is in the fic's best interest to cut out Marcelina's existence. I mean, it wouldn't destroy anything else, that's how insignificant Marcelina is right now to this fic (which I wanted to change with the Matteusz and Marcelina scene, but alas). After all, this fic follows canon and yes, Marcelina might basically be canon to me, but she isn't, which is why she has no impact on the story. She already exists entirely off-page.

So I've decided to indeed cut her out, and I am already noticing how much easier it is to advance on the story without having to keep her in mind, but I am also upsetti spaghetti about it. MARCELINA I LOVE YOU.

[ahomeforwisters]

ava gift exchange 2023! 🎄🥳

it's here! happy holidays, lulw (@tdlad), hope you're having a good one! this isn't a piece of visual art since i don’t have the tools to create one, so you get a dr. seuss-inspired fic + a part of a fic i might finish later!

due to irl events, i had to rush these a bit, but i hope you enjoy it either way :) have a wonderful winter (or summer, depending on where you are) week, and happy (early) new year! *gives gingerbread cookie*

(prompt: i tried to combine elements from all three, but i focused on “the dark lord with red coat (that tdl in my posts)” specifically—your art is just gorgeous, btw!)

word count: ~1400 for the first one/the dr. suess-y one, ~1320 (and counting?) for the second one/the unfinished one

(and special thanks to @avagiftexchange for hosting this!)

Fic 1: How the Grinch Dark Lord Stole Christmas (or: dark's christmas cake romp)

Every stick in Stick City, near the end of the year, Every stick in Stick City brimmed with holiday cheer…

But! The Dark Lord, who’s not far from here, Who lived in the wintry woods quite near— The Dark Lord held Christmas even more dear!

~-~

The Dark Lord loved Christmas, this is no bluff, And you’d best believe it, he just can’t get enough! Was it because he enjoyed the sound of children laughing clear, Or did he simply have a particular liking for reindeer? Well I’ll tell you his secret, his reason for this: He really, really liked log cakes, they fill him with bliss.

“Christmas awaits, on the very next day, Christmas really is just a day away!”

But, From his perch in the woods, Watching the stars from where he stood, With hungry eyes and vibrant ardor, With the growing desire for Christmas he harbors, (and a craving for frosting he just can’t ignore), The Dark Lord knew: he needed more!

He needed more of all that Christmas had in store! And he will get more, he swore, He’ll claim even more of Christmas, ‘twas his right as a Lord!

But—how? Christmas is already drawing so near, Soon enough, Christmas will practically already be here! He needed more time, and he needed… a plan! A plan to put Christmas in the palm of his hand.

So The Dark Lord schemed, And he schemed, and he schemed, And he conjured a scheme, A terrible scheme!

“A-ha! I’ve got a brilliant idea!”

Dark cackled, a sound from deep in his throat, As he pulled from his closet his most dapper red coat. “They’ll never see me coming, even from the skies, “So long as I craft myself a most clever disguise!”

So he lined his coat with cotton, like Santa’s coat proper, Just as into the room, his friend Chosen entered— “Look, dearest Chosen, I’ve come up with a plan, “A plan to seize Christmas in the palm of my hand!”

Dear Chosen deadpanned, “Why are you talking like that,” And right after, he inquired, what about your silly Santa’s hat?

“No I didn’t—”

“Right here! I believe my night cap is sufficient,” Dark proclaimed, wearing the hat over his ears. “Now I only need a reindeer…”

But around this area, their part of the woods here, This much Dark knew: you wouldn’t find any deer! But was Dark deterred…? No! He said, “If I can’t find a deer, I’ll just make one instead!”

“...What do you think you’re doing with that big red nose.”

…And Dark ended up sticking the nose and antlers on his one last Virabot instead!

And so, with his little red cap on his hollow red head, And his feet firmly planted in his makeshift sled— He took with him a burlap sack, Which he then hoisted upon his back— He yelled, “Onward!” just before he took flight, Off to steal Christmas, he disappeared into the night!

~-~

Back on the ground, Chosen gazed down at the cardboard box—sorry, at the sled—Dark left behind. He stared at the confused Virabot, wearing an antler headband and sporting a red clown nose glued to its face, and sighed. “This is so stupid…”

~-~

A jaunty holiday tune played from an open Chrome window, But not a sound could be heard coming from inside their homes. He was here at last, and at the perfect time, too— They must all be in their beds, dreaming away without a clue! “Now to enact my plan…”

So he climbed down the chimney, one crafted from brick, It wasn’t too tight a fit, for he was literally a stick. Though he did get stuck once, or twice, maybe thrice— And he cursed his head, loudly, for it was massive in size. “Ow—seriously, who makes chimneys this small—”

“Second, is that you?”

Just as Dark managed to extricate himself, finally, Free from the clutches of that dastardly chimney— He came face-to-face with his first obstacle: Little Cindy-Blue Who, carrying fruits in a bowl.

“Wha… Little Cindy-Blue who?”

That’s right! Little Cindy-Blue Who, probably much older than two, Who… was actually awake at this time? But it’s two (a.m.)!

“Oh, no, we don’t actually sleep. Like at all. Except Second, sometimes, but he’s off doing his own thing right now. But uhh, anyways, hi, Dark Lord! What—what’s up? And why are you dressed like…”

And oh, there was a cautious glint in his eyes— He was nervous! But there was no need for such fright, Not if Dark wanted his plan to go without a hitch. So Dark would assure him, and explain his impromptu visit:

“You see, sweet youth—you see, the job of Santy, “Is to stock up your stockings, and fill them aplenty! “So that’s what I’m here for—but not you, my dear, “For this gift’s a surprise, so I can’t have you near.”

And the lie rolled cleanly off The Dark Lord’s tongue, For he was clever, and sure to fool the young. And surely enough, Cindy-Blue Who was nodding, Raring and ready to hurry back to bed a-plodding. You’re right, Santa Dark, he joyfully exclaimed, I’ll head right back to bed now! With a turn and a wave.

“What? But I didn’t say anythi—”

And so, with his burlap sack swinging, And with Cindy-Blue assuaged, standing there beaming— “Hey, don’t—get back here…!” The Dark Lord marched onward, his first obstacle cleared!

…only to find four more, all waiting at the door!

(…crap)

Ahem—what a surprise! The Dark Lord gasped, He can’t believe his eyes, ‘twas something he almost couldn’t grasp— What a sight, that they’d all come to greet him so, How happy they must be, to all rush out and greet him so!

“Hey uhh… what’s he saying?”

‘What’s he saying?’ They’re asking what game he’s playing! They ask why he’s here, and on what he was preying. But! faced with a barrier of four— Now five, as Cindy-Blue Who, panting, adds one more… They all block his path to the far kitchen door, But has this ever stopped The Dark Lord before? No!

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Cindy-Blue called when Dark showed no signs of slowing.

“Why’d you come here all of a sudden?” Said the yellow, placing a hand on his chin.

“The Cindy-blue-what now?” Slowly asked the red fellow.

“And what’s with the getup?” Queried Green, looking him from the toes up.

“Oh, Chosen told me he and Dark recently discovered these popular picture books. And ever since then, Dark’s been narrating everything he does in rhyme.”

“Ah, is that why he’s talking like that?” Yellow asked, eyeing his little Santa’s hat.

“That’s actually kind of impressive,” Remarked Green, who’s usually quite quick to forgive.

“Ooh, try rhyming something with orange!” Red said as Cindy-Blue stood next to Orange.

“Please stop calling me that, I don’t even know what it means,” Groaned Cindy-Blue Who, beside a laughing Green.

“Hey guys, Chosen texted me again just now—apparently Dark is here trying to ‘steal Christmas’ from us—which really just means he wants our log cakes.”

(goddammit Chosen you traitor)

“Wait, that’s it? That’s what that devious plan he was cackling about is?”

“I mean, Blue could always just make another cake. You could’ve just asked if you wanted one.”

“Yeah, and you’re… kind of really bad at sneaking? We could hear you narrating really loudly as soon as you got here.”

“And cursing out Orange’s chimney, too. Geez, that was vulgar…”

“Well,” with a flourish, the orange stick gestures, Towards the kitchen, where Dark had been hoping to plunder. “We’ve got some cake, if you want it. Next time just let us know you’re coming before you tear a portal through our wifi. And maybe keep your visits during the daytime, or at least don’t come crawling down my chimney past midnight…”

What was this? Could it be—no, it simply couldn’t be… But it was! “They’ll stand here and hand Christmas—to me?” For ‘twas the season of giving, of gifts freely given, Of gingerbread, batter, and cakes in the kitchen.

And there Dark stood and pondered, and pondered, and pondered, ‘Til a bright thought struck him! One that filled him with wonder: Could it be, then, that Christmas was not for the taking, But for shared cheer and laughs and all that in the making?

“Oh, for Adobe’s—just sit down and have some log cake.” And, well— ‘Twas simply an offer Dark cannot forsake.

- the end -

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fic 2: i don't actually have a name for it yet, but i think i'll call it thaw for now

Christmas. ‘Twas a time of joyous laughter and warm embraces, of fireside affections and wintry escapades. ‘Twas the season of giving, be it presents or sweets or even the simplest of smiles—‘twas a time when even the little things, when given to another, are made infinitely precious.

Christmas. ‘Twas an absolutely perplexing holiday, for a stick such as The Dark Lord—and ‘twas a completely pointless one, too, as far as Dark was concerned.

Yet, when a pair of glittery red envelopes arrived at the doorstep of his and Chosen’s cabin in the woods—and when he opened one of them up to find an invitation inside, filigreed in gold and writ upon with a blue gel pen (in rather shaky handwriting, he noticed)—he didn’t immediately turn it to ash. He regarded it for longer than he normally would’ve, longer than he should’ve, turning it this way and that under the light—‘You’re invited!’, it winked up at him. If he didn’t know better just how sappy the animator’s favorite and his friends can be, he would’ve thought this was some kind of taunt.

(“You’re invited!”? who in their right minds would want to invite The Dark Lord, the outernet’s worst cyber-criminal, to something as mundane—as warm alien pointless—as a holiday gathering?)

While he was still winning gots nose at the gaudy invitation, the only other stick around for miles appeared in his periphery—Chosen picked up an envelope, too, when he saw what Dark was studying at the doorway. Dark almost hadn’t noticed when his fr… when his roommate had snuck up behind him, his pronounced footfalls doing little to breach the chasm between them; it was all he could do to stop himself from launching a fireball at Chosen as soon as the latter reached past him (he hadn’t forgotten how well that’d gone for him the last time…) 

Clumsily, fumbling with it once or twice, Chosen peeled at the envelope. His invitation was inked in orange instead of blue, littered with tiny scribbled drawings, and written in much neater script, too. Dark couldn’t catch the rest; Chosen always stood with his feet angled toward him these days, so his invitation turned away from view. That, and he’d moved a few paces away from the doorway—and Dark wasn’t interested anyway, he wasn’t. Pointless, he told himself again, it was such a pointless gesture. It was something he didn’t need—The Dark Lord had better things to do, had more important things to do, than to entertain something as small and banal as a Christmas party—it was a pointless affair, that was all it was.

(and yet.)

And yet. Dark wouldn’t be able to say what possessed him to do it; if it was sheer curiosity, a part of him balking at his own degrading wonder—or if it was when Chosen’s fingers tightened their hold on his invitation, carving minute creases into the paper,

and when the other stick’s eyes crinkled, just barely, in tender longing silent laughter only Dark would recognize—when those eyes finally met his, carrying a question and a spark Dark hadn’t seen in so long—he couldn’t find it within him to say no.

(it was Chosen’s idea, he would say later—it was all his roommate’s fault, the first and last person to extend their hand to him, that he was crashing their little party. he hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t needed it—he didn’t need this, he didn’t.)

~-~

If he was being honest—Dark really didn’t have anything better to do than to attend the party.

Ever since he was blasted to kingdom come by the animator’s favorite, ever since a battered Chosen had found him at the foot of a volcano and hauled his near-corpse all the way back to their cabin—in the months since, he’d seldom left their secluded area in the woods to do anything more than take a short walk. His shoulder still smarted from the hole that’d been blown through it, his skin etched with throbbing green scars all over—he couldn’t travel far beyond the bounds of the woods without wilting, robbed of breath. Needless to say, his heydays of ash and destruction were far behind him.

(and even if all his progress hadn’t been deleted, rendered void when Chosen destroyed the rest of his virabots following the “incident”—these days, looking at the place where he’d once stood tapping away at his computer, believing himself the inheritor of a grander purpose than the one dealt to him by the animator—it left an sour taste in his mouth.)

In his current condition, even petty theft seemed beyond his capabilities. Which was going to be a problem, he realized, when he turned to the back of the invitation and saw the damning first rule of the party written in a bold green: “Come in a costume! No costume, NO ENTRY.”

Well, in the state he was in, he wasn’t going to be pulling any heists anytime soon, not even on cheap outfitters—and he doubted any store would simply let a notorious cyber-criminal waltz into their establishment, even just to look around. That left him with only two options: either go through his own closets, or brave Chosen’s minefield of a room to rifle through his. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

With practiced ease (and only slightly impeded by his still-healing injuries), Dark picked his way past piles of lightly-charred sweaters, discarded bandages, random knick knacks collecting dust over the years, a self-sustaining tornado of trash—all the way across his roommate’s bedroom to reach the far end where the closets were. While Dark considered his fashion sense to be impeccable, none of his clothes really screamed “festive.” It was all something along the lines of “looks like he could kill you” or “warning: would actually kill you.” Chosen’s taste in clothes, on the other hand, was more… eclectic. There was more variety; he’d probably have a better chance finding something acceptable to wear here than in his own wardrobe.

Dark threw open the leftmost closet, a mahogany behemoth with the price sticker still slapped on the left door, and oh, that was—what even was that? No, those pants were too long, and the pair beside them the wrong shade of green—and oh, that’s garish, why did he even think to nab this? What is this even supposed to be, a mop? Or some kind of shawl? That color is way too bright to ever belong on a shirt, that shirt is a visual safety hazard. And what—why aren’t these socks the same, where’s the other one in the pair? None of these socks are the same—is that a pair of googly eyes—

Dark shut the closet door. He should’ve expected this, really; he’d witnessed the affront to fashion that was Chosen’s wardrobe thousands of times before, whenever they had to disguise themselves to go into the city. The two other closets wouldn’t be much better, he knew, but just as he was turning to head back toward the door—had that box always been there?

Tucked away into the corner of the room was a small cardboard box, a little tattered and stained in several spots from years of disuse but otherwise appearing untouched by the surrounding mess. As an expert at navigating Chosen’s room, Dark knew for certain it hadn’t been there the last time he was here (just over three months ago. he’d been scrounging for one of the aprons he’d left in Chosen’s room; it feels like it’s been forever since then.)

It took only a short hop for Dark to reach it. The next second, he was kneeling down in front of it, carefully lifting the top flaps—and sure, maybe a part of him was prodding at him, telling him whatever was in there was probably stashed away in the corner for a reason, reminding him that things are different now, the space between you and him, it’s different now—but that hadn’t ever stopped Dark before

(aaand that's all i have for this second one for now. i'll probs post the rest on ao3 or something if i finish this, but i'll def let you know!)

----------------------------

but yeah, anywho, that's all—have a wonderful holiday season! :)

[mosswitch219]

Some thoughts on Bad Batch Season 3

SPOILERS

First off I want to say this is going to be a very unpopular opinion and if you liked the szn this probably isnt the post for u, but I feel I have to speak my mind.

Overall after watching season 3 I honestly feel let down and unsatisfied with the events and especially the ending.

1. Techs death is probably the biggest thing that frustrated me because when you kill a character off you should either have your other characters morn and grieve them and learn to accept the loss or bring them back.

However they didn't either of those, instead they pretty much forget he existed they barely reference him and only say his name like twice, it would be fine to show characters in denial about someone's death but it's more like the show is in denial. This is why many bad batch fans were expecting tech to come back, if you don't morn a characters death than the story arch feels incomplete a ppl will wait for it to "end".

Not to mention techs story didn't seem over he left on weird unfinished terms with Phee and it seemed like they would touch on it again but nope.

Also they introduced CX-2 and made it seem like he might be tech, such as having the same build and teasing the identity like it's important and like it will mean something and then at the end for CX-2 and all these super soldiers to mean absolutely nothing.

2. So many unfinished questions, I can't believe this is the end of bad batch and apparently the last clone show. Especially when we still don't know where tf Cody is and all we're told is that he's gone AWOL (mentioned like it will mean something in the future) and then we never see or hear anything about him again.

Then there's Wolffe obviously we know he's in Rebels but what happens between then and now?

Then there's Echo same as Wolffe what happens to him as we never see him fighting alongside rex in Rebels.

Then ventress she was introduced back and then she leaves and we never see or hear about her ever again, she didn't rlly add much they revived and went "look ventress is back" for one episode and then that's it she's no longer important all she did was say "yup omega has a high M count" and then left.

3. Omega and the other force sensitive children could have patched up the plot hole of "somehow palatine is back" by saying using omegas clone DNA that can sustain high levels of a M count and a force sensitive child they were able to figure out how to clone palatine or smth but no it all meant nothing and we never rlly knew what the tests where for even when they had a golden opportunity to reveal it when Rampart forces Nala se to tell him everything abt the experiments

Honestly season 1&2 were great and so I went into season 3 expecting the same amount of quality but I didn't get that. They usually tie everything together and I never felt unsatisfied or confused in szn 1&2 but I did in szn 3. I kept waiting for things to start to tie together especially when the had so many moment where it seemed like the scenes where there just to make things make sense but no they were all there for nothing.

I walked away from szn 3 thinking it must have been rushed or gotten a new writers team bc wtf was any of this, it was so out of character for the writers to make such bad decisions.

I understand if other people like the ending bc we don't usually get somewhat happy endings but this was more like a half-assed happy ending to me, I would have preferred a well written devastating bad ending but this is what we got instead and I am so disappointed. All I could think of szn 3 was about how angry, let down and confused I was and that it was a lame and made me feel meh.

[vicmillen]

Ok, I'm looking through the folders and found something that, uh, I did not remember writing at all. Jesus, almost spit out my drink reading it.

For context this should be something in response to this post I made, although the post is made after I wrote that? This might be the first ever entry about LU I have, in fact. How the hell I forgot about it is beyond me...

Anyway, here's the... short scene, I guess. Please forgive the unfinished battle sequence, I'm still not sure how to do that fight scene.

****

Abruptly, Warriors felt like the Deity's scrutiny lifted from his body like a physical weight, Their attention shifting to the approaching champion. No, no. Why is Wild going against his order? Dread curls in the captain's chest, Why isn't he keeping away!

The Deity narrows their eyes at the new comer, and slammed their massive sword into Warrior's shield so suddenly that the captain went flying backwards. Except, what he fears the most did not happen, Wild did not instantly become a red smear on the ground. Instead, the Deity cocks their head, almost curious.

Wild sneaks a worried look at Warriors, then wordlessly stepped in front of him. For a stretched second, not a single sound is heard across the parade grounds, all the heroes watching on with bated breath.

The Deity is the first to break the silence. But what they say next sends all of the heroes into confusion.

"I sense my mark on you. Don my face, Wildling. Show your worth."

The champion hesitated for a moment, then in a familiar flash of blue, a smaller Fierce Deity stands in his place. Gasps is heard all around, but the Deity doesn't seems to notice them anymore.

"And my sword."

A pause, then another flash of blue, that iconic two toned blade appeared in the champion's hands. Two identical Fierce Deities stood face to face, albeit one is much smaller than the other.

Now that the initial shock has died down somewhat, Warriors can see the difference between the two. Not just in their build, but their aura too. That, more than anything, eased his worry a little... Right until the smaller figure charges straight at the Deity.

The heroes let out their second collective gasp,

~~~~

W: sprint attack

FD: side step & slash

W: back flip dodge & flurry rush

FD: side step mid-rush and horizontal slash

W: bolck w/sword & ragdolls

FD: beam attack aiming mid air

W: snap paraglider to halt momentum, then throws his sword into beam

FD: surprised dodge, sword stuck in grond behind FD

W: bullet time with two volleys multishot bomb arrows

FD: brief stun

W: face FD w/ no weapon

FD: forward slam

W: backflip dodge, another stun attempt with bow

FD: stun failed & immediate slash

W: empty hand perfect dodge, moves behind FD

FD: backwards stab

W: step onto blade and kicked off into backflip, bullet time electric shot at FD's chest piece, lands next to thrown sword

FD: turn with half spin slash

W: side step flurry rush, pick up sword

FD: side step the side step, upward slash

W: parry fail, went flying

FD: jump attack

W: blocked mid-air w/ sword, still slammed into ground by FD

~~~~

The dust settles around the two pale figures, then to the shock of everyone, Fierce Deity throws their head back and laughed.

"Very well, seems like there is an end in sight after all." Their voice booms. Then the deity narrowed their eyes at their split image laying beneath them, an unnerving smirk growing on their face. Without warning the Fierce Deity raised his hand and pried off their mask in one swift motion.

Leaving a disoriented Time behind to face the absolute shock of his life.

[fromtenthousandfeet]

Never Let Go Thoughts

I finally listened to Jung Kook's Never Let Go via a reaction video. I sort of skipped through it, to be honest. I'm not here to write a review of the song, but to express some concerns.

As others have said, the song feels rushed and unfinished. Yes, it's repetitive and continues to be a little too derivative of Justin Bieber's work. Also, his English pronunciation isn't the greatest. Because the tempo is so fast, his diction suffers. Any non-native English speaker will have this problem given how fast the song is.

I think it's great that Jungkook is trying new genres. An artist really needs to push boundaries and take risks in order to grow and stay relevant in the industry. But in this case, I'm struggling to understand how such a simple song could have 8 writers and 4 producers. Teenagers across the globe are making better music in their bedrooms with free or cheap music production software.

This is going to sound crazy given how snarky I can be, but I genuinely feel bad for Jungkook. Seven and Golden didn't sit right with me, and neither does Never Let Go. It's increasingly clear that Big Hit/HYBE's goal is to make money off of JK without investing in his growth as an artist, even though we know he's a serious music lover with high standards. And while ARMY and JJKs will support Jungkook unconditionally - continuing to buy and stream his music - the general music consuming public will not. Right now he's not an industry joke because most people in the GP have no idea who he is, but if BSH and BH keep this up, JK will become completely irrelevant. The American music market is not the Korean music market. Copying established western singers over and over again is not going to end well, especially when the final product feels significantly sub-par to the original.

Now for the scary part. Who is paying for all this promotion - especially for a song that should have either been released on music platforms but not for sale, or simply brought back to the recording studio for improvement/reworking? If JK's marketing costs are deducted from his song sales and streaming profits, not only will he not make money, but he might end up owing HYBE big bucks. I think it's very likely he's in a 360 contract with Big Hit given how much investment they've put into his solo work. Hopefully he was able to negotiate favorable terms so he doesn't end up in massive debt for his solo projects. Jon Bellion's recent bellyaching about the lack of radio play for SEVEN makes me think the group behind JK's album aren't getting the royalties they were expecting.

As I watch BTS' fandom devolve into divisiveness and rancor, as the members' solo singles fail to chart in the US, and public perception about HYBE continues to fall, I worry. I think Bang PD was counting on BTS' reputation and brand value lasting forever. He's a foolish man. I'm reminded of that video where he's sitting with TXT and telling them that their collab with the Jonas Brothers is going to be a huge hit and has a guaranteed spot on the Billboard Hot 100. We all know how that went. Does anyone have a link to that clip? Bang PD has a lot of bravado, but not a lot of western music industry sense.

Thanks for these comments on my previous post, @in2u-4asec and @isaidnothankyou. Ditto!

in2u-4asec i worry about jk to be honest. because all the money used and continued being used to promote him as a soloist, it isn't free. he has to make money to pay all of that. i just really hope he hasn't signed any solo contract like that infamous 360 one. isaidnothankyou @in2u-4asec, I've thought the same thing. I know it isn't the thing to take away from his "agency," but was it really his idea to release an unfinished song (he was obviously embarrassed about it) in a blatant money grab? I've said this about Jimin, but it goes for everyone. Do they have anyone who is NOT affiliated with the company to advise them and protect their interests? A real manager, in other words, not just someone who drives them and takes care of the luggage?

[ryahisbored]

Hello strange people. So, I thought I’d use mine (and @taline13's) stories in whumptober 2024 because i like it : D

only issue is, we have so far posted 9/112 chapters, SO I’ll be listing off which chapters apply to each day, and you guys will have to wait until it’s posted to read it :)

You get the chapter, and a small excerpt or two just so you really wanna read it when It comes out B)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55662469

Here it is and here are the prompts (so far)

1. Race against the clock: search party / panic attack / "if only we could hold on"

This one is unfinished (I think?) and untitled as of right now, but basically, Div is kidnapped for being a witch and Ari and friends have to rush to get her back. Excerpt: (Div's POV) "She had no voice left with which to scream; instead, she tasted blood. Nothing made sense anymore, and she so desperately wished for blissful unconsciousness."

2. Trust issues: Alternative prompt: Communication Barrier

A very new chapter entitled "Divine Forest and Good Food" :D - fully written by T, it is about an enderman and his brother coming to the tavern to hang out and find food, i suppose, after being rescued from captivity. Divs name in sign language is a mix of the words 'divine' and 'forest' so thats what she uses. Excerpt: (Dria's perspective)

"They waited patiently until the short brown thing finished helping another person then came to Kinel. Dria noticed their purple eyes as they inspected Kinel’s leg. They made the same strange noises everyone else did. Kinel was silent as his leg was pulled on a few times, then the purple light appeared again, and Dria felt his brother’s pain disappear. The brown thing stood up slowly and left. Kinel got to his feet, and Dria could see his joy in the way his fingers and tail stretched just a little. Together, they walked off the floating house, up the hill, and into the forest."

3. Set up for failure: Alternative prompt: Finding old messages

Ouch. uh, "Home again". Well, this is the chapter in which Ari returns home after getting very close to dying. She doesn't want to explain much of how she feels, so lets Div read the letter she wrote to her as her last words. ow. (Excerpt: Div's perspective)

"She looked up to Athaven. “Do you still have the letters?” He nodded. “I don’t want to explain it again.” Athaven took them out of his pocket and sorted through them. He set it in front of Divina. -

- By the time she was halfway through, Div was struggling for a different reason: she could hardly see through her tears. She scrubbed at her face and forced herself to read the rest. It broke her heart to have even this glimpse of what her friend must’ve felt, and still might be feeling. Div sat back when she was finished and took a deep breath. Then she turned and hugged Ari, not waiting for permission."

4. Hallucinations: hypnosis / sensory deprivation / "you're still alive in my head"

Closest to hallucinations we have (so far ;) ) is flashbacks and nightmares - so I'll go with "Div's mistake". In the middle of a whole bunch of chaos, Ari has a flashback to what happened to her in the bastion (yes, directly from JRWI). of course I can't give you the whole thing... (Excerpt: Div's perspective)

"“If you’re going to say you burnt the tavern down, which you didn’t, then I’m going to say that I almost got you killed in the Bastion.”

“Ar— Ari, is — are you — is that what happened? In the Bastion?”

“Yes, but, listen to my point. This wasn’t your fault, it was a bunch of things that happened one after another starting with you. It’s… it’s…” She looked down at her hands.

“Hey. Hey, are you okay?” Div asked.

“I — I didn’t… you were there and… no, you can’t have been there — I couldn’t…” Ari breathed faster.

“Woah, hey, look at me. Look at me.” Div cupped Ari’s face in her hands and rested her forehead against the triton’s. “It’s okay. I’m here with you. Ev— everything’s okay.”"

5. Sunburn: Healing salve / heatstroke / "If my pain will stretch that far"

hahahahha! Easy! Chapter "Well-cooked fish"! Pretty self explanatory, deserts and fish-people don't mix well. (Excerpt: Ari's perspective)

"After an hour or so, Ari started feeling weird. Occasionally, she got this weird light-headedness that felt like someone stole her consciousness for just a split second. Her lungs felt hot with the warm air she breathed, and she wished she could go back to being half-freezing under the sea. With a sinking feeling, her eyes started to unfocus, and Div’s voice started to sound farther away…"

Alright 5 is enough for today, see you all tomorrow!

(also, @taline13, respond with thoughts or edits / ideas!)

[showtoonzfan]

(SPOILERS FOR AGGRETSUKO SEASON 5, and rant!)

Y’all Aggretsuko season 5 was NOT my cup of tea, I dare even say it’s not good. It’s not as bad as season 4 was in my opinion, but it’s still mediocre at best. For starters it mainly has to do with how Retsuko and Haida are canonically a couple, and if you’ve read my post here, you’ll know how I feel about them. Since their relationship is…sort of the focal point of this season, it bothered me immensely because the relationship is just…..empty, it FEELS empty and unfinished because not only did the show drag it out and force Retsuko to suddenly WANT a relationship with Haida in season 4, but because the writers couldn’t even show them declaring their relationship ON screen. Season 4 had Retsuko yearning over Haida despite it legit not being in character or making any sense from what we’ve previously seen, and then after his villain arc and the season ended, season 5 opens with them as a couple already, and none of it felt natural to me. My point still stands, they shouldn’t have gotten together.

But that’s kinda just the tip of the iceberg with this season. The only way I can describe S5 is in two words, and that’s that it’s random and underwhelming. It did NOT feel like the proper sendoff to this show, and even the ending felt rushed despite the last episode being around 30 minutes. This season didn’t feel like a “last season”, it felt like an idea for…..legit ANY other season other than the very last one. Like…the first half is about Haida addicted to gaming and trying to find a job and Internet cafe’s, which wasn’t that bad I guess but the whole miscommunication plot between Haida and Retsuko drove me crazy, and the first arc for Haida feels so disjointed from what he’s going through in the second half that it bothers me. Oh yeah, and the second half of the season caught me off guard because it’s about fucking politics. Maybe it’s just me but I did NOT enjoy watching all the political shit, like I said this doesn’t feel like a sendoff, this feels more like an idea for any season that wasn’t the last one.

The whole plot with BOTH Retsuko and Haida’s families were so underwhelming to me. For starters we finally get to meet Retsuko’s father and he barley contributes or does ANYTHING. He doesn’t even have that many lines, you might as well call him a background character. They introduce the idea that her father doesn’t approve of Haida since he cut out him in the family photo, but that scene legit goes NOWHERE. We never see that be brought up again, I was expecting an upcoming conversation between either Retsuko and her father, or Haida and her father, but her father only gets like…one line later in the season and then we never see him again, like..you’d think after finally meeting her father and showing that he wasn’t fond of his daughter’s boyfriend, it would play a big part but it didn’t. Then you have Haida’s family, his mother is nice but the focus is on his father and brother, which the show could have done more with honesty, especially his brother, who is nothing but the stern typical anime glasses man who works under their father that is an aging representative of the house. He’s determined to win the election but just turns good after he’s showed off by Retsuko and it felt out of nowhere and forced, same for his father who was just someone who cared more about the election and at the last minute just….laughs along with Haida after he gets showed off and then….we never see him again. Both these parent plots were just not fleshed out enough and it would have been better if politics wasn’t the main damn focus.

The new characters were….fine I guess? Like I said Haida’s brother and father were underdeveloped and I just didn’t feel much watching them, there’s Shikabane, the woman who Haida crashes with at the Internet cafe. I will admit, despite what I said, the first half of the season is more tolerable. I actually like how they’re tackling the concept of unemployment and people who either waste away themselves with gaming or social media, or people who HAVE jobs but aren’t happy or at the top of their game. However, Shikabane didn’t really do much for me either, she’s this socially drained character who sort of cuts ties with the world around her, and in the end it’s sort of left to the viewer wether she’s going to get back on her feet in the future or not, which was sweet I’ll admit, but other than that she didn’t really leave that big of an impact to me since this season is so damn jumbled. Then there’s that crazy angry politician man that legit forces Retsuko to do this politic job in the first place, and like…I legit don’t care I hate this political second half of the season so much. There were also small elements I didn’t like, like how the show INSISTS that Ton pick Retsuko off her feet every single time as if she can’t do it ONCE on her own, or how Fenneko is just a character that’s there and never gets focus or does anything really. The ending of Washimi and Gori I actually liked, seeing them finally reveal what drew them to Retsuko in the first place was nice, but man I did not like them in the first half, they felt out of character suggesting that Haida was cheating on her, like I said that whole misunderstanding plot drove me nuts.

And as I said, the ending felt so rushed, I remember going “That’s it?” When the credits rolled. We never even get to see all of the characters together for one final shot, or see how each character is doing with their lives moving forward. This entire show was praised for its outlook on adulthood and struggles that come with it as well as the lessons, and for the show to end in this half assed way, a show that I really liked, does kinda suck. I hate to say it but I feel like season 3 is where this show started to fall off honestly, and despite how much I love this show, I DID have issues with it as a whole. There’s the whole “we focus too much on Haida and want to drag him out as well as his relationship with Retsuko to the point where it’s fucking insufferable”- problem, then there’s how Retsuko continues to be a doormat for the most part despite previous seasons establishing that she’s done doing that and has leaned her lesson. Like…she’ll say that but then get forced into doing something she clearly does NOT want to do and I feel like her character keeps going back and fourth with that. The plot wants to push her into whatever lesson or deep symbolism they feel like spewing, but THIS time it just doesn’t feel natural like it did before. Characters will TELL Retsuko what she wants and at some point you get sick of it. You also got Ton, a character who kept flip flopping. Despite what I said about him here, the show legit felt like it couldn’t decide wether they wanted him to be a sexist asshole, or just a flawed old man who’s stuck in the times but has a good heart. I could honestly say a little more about the issues I have with the show as a whole, but the point still stands that the last season didn’t hit as hard as I had hoped.

Aggretsuko still and always will have a special place in my heart. I really enjoy the series as a whole and I think it’s a really good example of some of the best adult animation I’ve seen. The life lessons of adulthood, finding a job, falling in love, getting married, being afraid of going out into the world, ect were mostly handled well in the show, the characters (again for the most part) are likable and endearing, and even though this show didn’t go out with a bang and slipped down its slope heavily, I don’t hate it, and still will love and admire it, it’s the same with Star Vs. The Forces Of Evil, where it started out SO good but then ended poorly, but overall it’s a show I’ll always like. With that said these are all my opinions, I wanted to make a post on this since this was one of my favorite shows, so since it was ending I thought I’d talk about it. Thank you for reading!

[deedjre]

Day 28 - monster !!! i had this one all prepped 😈 and i RUSHED finishing it so i could work on that piece for the 23rd lmao so it's just gradient shaded. anyway i actually had a fantasy au of these two fuckers from a while back bc i get a feral urge when i think about mers and i was thinking about mers. and so i was like "what if i made john a mer" and then i realized. that would fix him. that would like take away most of his pain and strife. bc you can't smoke underwater. this eventually spiraled into me making him a siren and i honestly i had no other choice but to make colin a vampire do you know how many toxic love songs there are that use "vampire" as a metaphor? at least 2. and he is the vampire in both fr <3

(prompt list) RANTINGS BELOW beware of. worldbuilding lmao

originally gave john the wrong skin tone (and by that i mean blue. like his underwater skin tone is blue) 💀 so the colors of blush and eyebags and clothes might be a bit off but. oh well

anyway.

sirens are considered a subspecies of mers. i suppose. a slight genetic mutation, perhaps. also ignore the crotch part on the land form bit btw. i needed more differences LMAO i think it's mostly meant for a circumcision joke or something continuing on, it's primarily a visual allegory for autism. the feeding off of love part was mostly for john specifically though, to give him more parallels to Colin and for the relationship to be more in line with the uh "original" canon. original in quotes but ig that also fits for the actual original canon?? anyway. when touched with water, the land forms of both sirens and mers will start to change color in just that spot. hence his arm in the piece. also mers just eat fish. for simplicity.

when exiting the water, mers/sirens will typically wind up on the beach naked. so they have little lost and found shops on the shore to give them clothes and shit !! yippee. that's where john got his hoodie in this lore. btw.

some other things: this takes place in california instead of new york bc it was originally going to take place in california. not much difference, in all honesty. lot more temperate. john is a very willing food source to the point of having to get blood transfusions (the yaoi remains toxic). but at least colin feeds him back colin claims he's an elf quite frequently (his fangs aren't always out). which is a bit like saying you're old money. which he very much is NOT. he is still british though here's a doodle sheet i did while thumbnailing (most are thumbnails):

i have an unfinished rough draft of this version of the story and honestly history repeats itself bc i forgot i made the "nicknamed vamp bc he's bi" joke in it. i just thought of it a second time. oh another fun fact: vampires only need to eat like twice a month on average in this story. colin just eats him for fun most of the time. it's how he shows love <3 funnily enough i actually think their relationship is healthier in this au. they communicate like so much fucking more and john isn't AS possessive. i mean colin is actively killing him and john's letting it happen, but colin is also taking him to the hospital when he gets anemic. Even more fun fact!: colin's wearing his 60's au outfit. bc it has a poets shirt and that's more vampire than a button up. the uh chain being drawn/used correctly is just for this au though.

for an unknown reason john still uses ASL in this AU. i forgot why. but it's probably the stutter (though he didn't have one in that point of creation i don't think??? did i give him a stutter twice?? also it should've been mer sign language... bc he lived underwater. i just feel like they'd have another version due to that). he has a stutter btw have i ever said that? i decided it fairly recently. this month or any preceding month through july. uhm. here's some older art of them i might've posted here before:

[forestwhisper3]

Welcome back to [Not Quite] Midnight Meditations, although tonight, we are surprisingly more or less on time (as long as the clock still says 12 I'm counting it as on time), where I share segments from the darker corners of my flash drive. As stated before, these are all ideas that held my interest for a bit but were left unfinished for one reason or another. It is very unlikely that they will ever be fully fleshed out, but I figured it would be fun to share them.

Continuing in order from the last post, tonight's segment is Digimon again. This one is based firmly in Gen 2 and is yet another Davis-centric fic, but the concept this time is that he turns evil.

I do remember enjoying the concept of evil Davis when I wrote this (and I will admit the idea still holds some appeal even now), but I also remember being rather put off by the execution of many of the fics I read that pursued this plot. A lot of them had everyone suddenly turn on him because of one small mistake, or he decided he was tired of being "second best" to TK. That always felt sort of lackluster and unrealistic to me, so I tried my own spin on it.

This idea didn't get as much attention as the last one, so it's considerably shorter, but I feel like it sets the mood for what could have been the rest of the story rather well. Anyway, I won't keep you any longer, so here it is.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I-…I think something's wrong with me."

"…Wrong how?"

"I've been hearing voices."

Ken rushed through the forest, the others hot on his heels, adrenaline pushing them past their normal limits. Inwardly, he was berating himself. He and Davis had both considered this possibility, no matter how reluctantly on his part, but Ken thought they might have had more time- that it might not happen because it was so unlikely…

Ken stiffened slightly while Davis grinned weakly. "Yeah, that's what I've been thinking too."

"…How long?"

"About a month now. It wasn't so bad at first- I thought it might have just been the late hours mixed with my imagination…but now…" Davis gave a deep, exhausted sigh. "I'm worried, Ken."

So he had ignored the warnings. He brushed off Davis's increasing weariness, his growing paranoia and jumpiness at the slightest things, and his increasingly frequent concerns that something serious was at work.

"We can't be sure that it's something to worry about yet," he countered a bit fearfully. "Maybe you just watched too many horror-"

"Ken. That's not it and you know it."

Davis's smile was so full of sadness and understanding that it made Ken tear up even while filling him with fury.

He had ignored it when Davis had started growing easily irritated and distant as well, although that wasn't the case with the others, who had finally caught on that something was happening. Not that they could have done anything by that point- the confrontation between TK and Davis was still a painful subject for all of them.

There was no ignoring it anymore.

"You're wrong! The dark spores were destroyed! There's no way for them to be affecting you!"

"Ken-"

"Don't! I don't want to hear it!"

Tai was the one who had found the letter.

It was as if Davis had known all along that Ken would never find the strength to admit that he was slowly losing his friend. Perhaps, in a moment of clarity, Davis had realized that it was something that they wouldn't be able to fix in time and wished to explain. Whatever the reason, he had somehow managed to sneak the letter into Tai's home and hid it away in Kari's scrapbook.

Davis went missing the very next day.

A long, tense silence fell. It was the sort of silence they hadn't felt between them since the early days of their friendship. After what felt like forever, Davis sighed and stood up.

"I need to head home. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

He nodded and went toward the door, pausing once it opened. "…Just promise me you'll think about it."

Davis was gone before he could answer. Then again, he doubted he would have been able to.

Now, they had finally gotten a reading on their leader's digivice…but he was afraid of what they would find.

Every day, the digital world seemed to grow just a little bit darker. Any digimon that weren't at Ultimate level or higher would stay hidden, and there were whispers…

"Ken?"

The tentative voice brought him out of his thoughts. The others were looking at him in concern, but he couldn't bring himself to even pretend to be all right.

"It'll be okay, Ken," Kari tried to assure him, although the way her brows were furrowed betrayed her worry. "We'll get him back."

"Yeah," TK agreed. "Davis is tough. I'm sure he's fighting whatever's possessing him with everything he's got."

"You don't understand," he whispered, not caring at how his voice cracked. "He'd been fighting it for almost a year before he disappeared. The thing about darkness is its subtlety. It waits for the best times to strike, and it always goes for your weak spots. It's amazing that he's lasted this long, but even Davis isn't invincible. One slip is all the darkness needs, and then you're overwhelmed…"

"I hate to say this, but Ken's right," Matt cut in, expression solemn. "We've all encountered darkness in some way, and we all gave into it eventually. It's a testament to Davis that he held it off as long as he did, but we have to face the fact that when we see him, he won't be himself."

"You saw the changes," Tai added grimly. "The Davis we know would never act that way. All we can do is fight and hope we can reach him like he reached Ken."

Hesitantly, they nodded.

Still, they weren't prepared for how much their friend had changed.

==============

[randomisedgaming]

Happy New Year and welcome to 2025!

Hello everyone, Random Gamer Riven editor of this blog here, hello and welcome to 2025 here at Randomised Gaming hope you all had a good Christmas. So posts are going to be a little slow to start with this year as I work on a novel, I've been writing on and off for the past two years and I intend to finish it this year, it is gaming related, but I won't say more until it finished.

So how about I give you a run down of the games I've been playing over the Christmas period and some of the best titles I played last year. I spend the early part of the year playing Armored Core VI, Cyberpunk 2077 and Elden Ring the latter two I'm still playing through as they've been on and off games due to their size.

Three playthroughs later and I had finished every mission and S Ranked it all in Armored Core VI. Really great single player game, however the multiplayer was rubbish compared to the world map battle system of Armored Core V and its follow up Armored Core Verdict Day. So far there has been no word on if Armored Core VI will get a follow up titles like all the other numbered releases in the series.

I finished 2024 playing the excellent Unicorn Overlord the latest title from the excellent Vanillaware. This strategy RPG really is quite unique blending elements of most of the main tactical and strategy titles in the genre, but still creating it's own special gameplay. It remains me of bits from titles like Ogre Battle, Dragon Force, Shining Force, Langrisseer, Fire Emblem and more, all rolled into one.

I would say, it might just be my game of the year for 2024 and 30 hours in I'm still enjoying the story and battles. It will get a bit repetitive towards the end I can see, but it just looks and plays so well.

Another surprised and a game I picked up near Christmas was the new video game version of the 2003 Manga, Sand Land from the late Akira Toriyama who sadly passed away last year. It's an action adventure title that sees you driving around a desert in a tank in the search for water. There's a great cast of characters and the story along with the voice acting are very well done.

It's fun to drive around in the various vehicles, battle monsters on foot or in a tank and just explore the world and towns. Really is well done.

Last year I played through the excellent Blast Brigade vs. the Evil Legion of Dr. Cread over the Christmas and new year windows. The game is what I call an open world platformer. To most people that what people call a Metroidvania, but I dislike that name as it snub earlier games in the genre like the C64 title Below the Root. Blast Brigade really was great and some some excellent 2D style visuals, which I think were in part 3D.

One of the best modern looking game in the open world platform genre I've seen in recent years and a game few people have played.

So this year first off for less than £2 I got Imp of the Sun on PlayStation and the game is now often on sale at a low price. It's not a big game took under ten hours, but it was said to fall into the open world genre and it does to some degree, but all the stages follow the same path route of Mini-boss > Upgrade > Map > Boss.

Not a perfect game, there were a few bugs and the hit collision could have been better, but I collected everything and beat the game's normal mode and got the hidden ending. Didn't beat the harder mode but for the price it was good stuff. I don't think it was worth the full price of £16, but for £5 or less I'd say it's well worth it.

Having also finished Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night this year, unlocking everything. I can say that was a good not great open world platformer. In Bloodstained case the end of the game is just unfinished and rushed and don't get me started on the awful food quest.

Still it turned out to be better than the Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown which I'm over 65% of the way through right now.

The first major boss battle looks nice in the screenshot, but the game draws to much from the worse elements of Hollow Knight.

Lots of empty rooms with nothing to fight, not many power ups, lots of jumping sections that require perfect timing, large map areas with not much in them and big doesn't always mean better. It has a terrible story with some truly flat voice acting and plot holes left, right and centre. I'm near the end now now, but I have zero interest in what happens to the main character. I'd heard good things about it, but all the open world platformers I mentioned in this piece are far better games. Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown really isn't that much fun, combat is decent, but flawed and for a big budget team I expected better.

On the indie front I have been enjoying the Hammerwatch series, I got sent a coverage copy of the original game some years back. It seems like a nice enough game at the time, but I picked up the sequel and remake recently. Turns out the original is a really great Gauntlet clone when I played through it on PlayStation 4 in December. The sequel is more like Diablo in gameplay, but still a very good game in its own right. I liked the pixel style artwork to the first game which reminds me of Cannon Fodder.

Really enjoyed it finished the main game and the temple of the sun quest, still not done the survival quest due to it being insanely hard. The music bug was really annoying in the original game, first time players would be better with the remake of the first game now which uses the second game engine and looks great.

While I'm been playing my fair share of retro games this year and remakes like Myst as always. I did picked up a few Japanese SEGA Saturn games for Hz testing.

One sequel I enjoyed playing in 2024 was SteamWorld Heist 2 a rather long over due follow up, but worth the wait. Sadly it's not clear if we will see any more Steamworld games as Thunderful let go of most of their development staff in 2024 and there hasn't been any word on DLC for the game.

Last game from 2024 I'll mention is Outcast: A New Beginning, always enjoyed the original PC game and it's remake, sequel likely didn't do that well, but looks great.

All the best to everyone for 2025 and thank you all for your support!

Follow Randomised Gaming on Tumblr, YouTube, Twitch & Twitter for video gaming & video content! Buy us a tea on Ko-fi

[mrs-weasley-reid]

KER!!!!

Hi Ker. Its me, again. Don’t you worry about accidentally deleting my ask I did read your fic also at like… 3am LOL. I’m going to bullet point what I asked before I forget so sorry if this feels a bit rushed and kind of rude

- say don’t go (taylor swift reference? If it is I SEE YOU SWIFTIE! (Maybe swiftie? Idk if ur a swiftie but i see the ref regardless)

- this was me begging for a part 2 if you’re down to write a part 2 because i desperately wanted to know what happens next

- i was also wondering if what you did was perhaps intentional, though. The angst leaving us all on a cliffhanger. Did you leave it open ended on purpose?

- because in that case i get it but still humbly request a part 2… on my knees

- does she wake up and survive the surgery? Where do they go from there if she does?

- does she NOT survive the surgery? Where does Spencer go from there??

- but once again i don’t want you to feel pressured by any means to write a part 2. If it comes to you it comes to you, if it doesn’t that’s ok! You already gained a new fan of your writing and your work 💕

- oh i also wanted to tell u idk if i said this in my comment but I LEGIT THOUGHT that when she was standing in the doorway and he was standing there in his suit and tie that she bought him- THAT SHE DIED AND WAS A GHOST. LIKE STRAIGHT UP. I WAS LIKE DAMN SHE DEAD? But she wasn’t dead- her heart was just broken and crumpled up on the floor and what lay in the space between them

Anyway I think I’m rambling again. These aren’t really bullet notes 🤣

OK BYE YOU’LL BE SEEING ME IN YOUR COMMENTS REAL SOON 🫡😗

OMG you are such an angel for doing this😭😭😭 and don't worry, it's not rude at all!

First and foremost, yes! I am a swifitie🫶 The entire fic is written while I had the song on repeat and specifically based on these two lines:

And I'm yours, but you're not mine I said, "I love you." You say nothin' back

So, if you want to reread it while listening to the song, it might make the angst angstier (? is that even a word lol)

Now, my favorite part of your ask. I did, in fact, leave it open-ended because I love to leave readers asking themselves what they want the ending to be. One thing I want my readers to know is that I will always leave things on a cliffhanger or open-ended because I myself cannot decide what I want. The reader recovering from the surgery does not mean things will go well with them and Spencer. So, it really is up to everyone whether they want her to go or to stay. I got a request to make a part 2 where the reader dies. It was a pleasant ask (and very tempting, tbh), but I left it for everyone's own interpretation. And I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on that.

But of course, sometimes I do fold and write part 2s and more if I feel like it. Although, I love most of my fics as a stand-alone. Anyway, this might be a bit of an advertisement, but I'll be posting some unfinished drafts that are open-ended because I'm too indecisive. It would really be amazing if I get replies that tell me what they think happened and will happen. I already posted one called Execution Style somewhere around my blog. It's vague. And too short. So might not be as great.

Moving onnnnn lol

The ghost part had me chuckling when I woke up so I truly appreciate you sending the ask again. I kind of wanted the story to seem like it's going back and forth from one scene to another. It's a bit difficult to portray, so I understand why you thought she was a ghost😂😂😂

I officially welcome you to my crazy department and hope that you enjoy your stay

— love lots x

[nonexistentbooks]

random rec list :)

These are various things that I have enjoyed a lot over the years. Check under the cut for more thorough notes/warnings, because some of these are really built for specific audiences. Linked to book titles is the storygraph page, where you can also find TWs. Link to poetry are the poems themselves.

books

House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski

Piranesi, Susanna Clarke

The Trial, Franz Kafka. (I don't have access to my copy anymore, so I don't know the translator of my edition, unfortunately)

The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky. I have read both the Pevear & Volokhonsky translation and the David McDuff translation. Don't have a preference between the two, I think.

An Iliad, Lisa Peterson and Denis O'Hare.

Beloved, Toni Morrison

poetry

If You Call a Wolf a Wolf, Kaveh Akbar

Hanif Abdurraqib's writing, particularly They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us and A Little Devil in America.

"Miss You. Would like to take a walk with you." Gabrielle Calvocoressi

"I Didn't Apologize to the Well," Mahmoud Darwish, tr. Fady Joudah

"Angels," Russell Edson

"On the Death of Friends in Childhood," Donald Justice

"Chou Nu Er: Composed on Wall at Mount Bo on Way," 辛弃疾 Xin Qiji, tr. unknown.

Poem 66 in Hidden Music, Rumi, tr. Maryam Mafi and Azima Melita Kolin.

manga/comics/etc.

The following works by Nihei Tsutomu: BLAME!, NOiSE, Abara, Biomega, tr. include: Melissa Tanaka, Stephen Paul, Sheldon Drzka, John Werry.

Mushishi, Urushibara Yuki, tr. William Flanagan

Witch Hat Atelier, Shirahama Kamome, tr. Stephen Kohler

Uzumaki, Ito Junji, tr. Yuji Oniki

Mob Psycho 100, ONE, tr. Kumar Sivasubramanian (might not be the only translator, but I'm not looking through all the volumes)

shows/movies + one podcast:

Revolutionary Girl Utena, dir. Ikuhara Kunihiko

Angel's Egg, dir. Oshii Mamoru (in collaboration with Amano Yoshitaka)

Cowboy Bebop, dir. Watanabe Shinichiro

A Writer's Odyssey, dir. Lu Yang

Wolf 359, produced by Kinda Evil Genius Productions, LLC

notes on book selections: For HoL, TBK, and Beloved, I'd recommend checking out the trigger warnings. None of these books are especially light, and definitely with HoL, Piranesi and a bit with The Trial as well, you don't know a lot going on. So you have to be okay with putting in the effort to understand these stories and going along with the ride. The Trial was technically unfinished, so after a point, it's the chapters we have from Kafka and in kind of out of order.

notes on poetry: I know some people may not like Hanif Abdurraqib's style, but I personally adore it. I have not read all of his works either, but he is a very solid poet and writer for me.

notes on manga and such: The thing you have to understand about Nihei's works (those that are listed) is that there aren't clear answers for a lot. Especially BLAME!, where there's very minimal dialogue. You won't understand everything on the first on the first read for BLAME! and that's good! NOiSE also doesn't answer a lot and Abara, for some, may seem like it ends on a cliffhanger. Biomega is the iffiest one here because the ending is really rushed. There was clearly meant to be more, but there just wasn't the space to take care of it before it had to end. In all his works listed, there is a lot of violence. WHA is in progress and I haven't caught up in ages, but it's a really solid story so far. Uzumaki is horror, so check out the warnings for that before going into it, if needed. MP100 is also pretty solid. Not without some faults, of course, but I greatly enjoy it and also have a fond spot for the REIGEN spinoff in my heart.

notes on shows and the rest: Ok. So. RGU. really look at the tws for this. The more comprehensive post I can't find, but this is a good summary. Definitely would not recommend it to everyone and there are aspects I am not a fan of (to say the least) but it is a very impactful story and means a lot. Angel's Egg is also not for everyone, but more so because it's a very silent movie and you will not get answers. It's a movie where you craft your own meaning and enjoy the experience. It can also feel very slow. Cowboy Bebop my beloved. That is all I will say. It can also feel slow to some people, but the ending. omg. A Writer's Odyssey may not be the most put together narrative-wise BUT I watched it when sick and fatigued out of my mind, so it takes a place here for being a movie I still remember pretty well. A father will do anything to find his daughter again, even if it means killing this random guy who only seems to be a novelist... except, isn't it strange how his story seems to impact reality as well? Wolf 359 is a podcast but MY GOD is it good. Listen to it. please.

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #44

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

Operating the elevator with two plates was a little tricky, but he managed to hit the button for the bottom floor without dropping anything. Down he went, farther than he ever thought he would on this excursion, and when the door opened, he was peering into darkness.

He stepped off the elevator, and the doors closed, leaving him in blackness.

“Hm.” He hummed to himself, wondering if he had gone down too far. But Sabine said the bottom most floor, so this must be right?

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the shadows, and he could see scant light filtering through the iron pipes that made up the hallway.

“All the way to the end, turn right, then all the way to the end, turn right again, and follow that hall.” He muttered Sabine’s instructions.

He walked until he bumped into some pipes, and the turned right. This hall had wood on the left side, making up the outside of ship. He could see closed portholes cut out of the wood. On his right was about a dozen laser canons, with tiny blinking lights on them, letting him know they were ready to go.

He rushed down that hall.

His next right turn gave him a curved hall, but he could see the light on the end. These walls were lined with machines, no doubt computers to send attack commands to the lasers.

And then he found her. Amidst all this cold, dark metal. She had a light on, so she was perfectly illuminated.

A porthole was opened behind her, as she sat on a wooden bunk, built into the hull of the ship, elevated above the rest of the portholes and cannons.

Her bed could very well be destroyed first if they ran into any fights.

She was working on a project, what looked to be half a scarf draped over the edge of the bed, and two sticks whirled around in her hands.

He cleared his throat.

She startled, and then looked to him. “Y-your majesty!” She flailed, tossing her project aside. “What—I’m sorry, how did you get here? Why are you here? It’s so dangerous! Are you lost? I’ll show you back upstairs!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her frantic ranting. And it was refreshing to not have her asking for permission to—well, do anything. Most would ask for permission to speak or ‘please allow me to escort you back upstairs.’

But no. She was probably treating him like she treated everyone else. Minus the title.

“Actually, I came to see you.”

“You—to see—me?!? But—“

“Here, I brought you dinner.”

“Oh! I’m not supposed to—“

“And they’re going to tell the Crown Prince that he can’t feed someone? Especially when I’m paying for the food?”

She swallowed, staring at the plate. “Well, no, I just—don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“How would I get in trouble?”

“It just—the Duke doesn’t like you talking to me.”

“Well, what the Duke doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?” He winked at her.

She blushed, and then smirked herself. “I didn’t know the Prince had a rebellious side to him.”

“I might have a streak.” The smug smile dissolved slightly to something more pathetic. “I won’t have the chance to rebel when I’m king, anyways.” He gestured to her bunk. “Mind if I join you?”

“Oh please, be my guest!” She leaned down and took the plates from him so he could climb the ladder.

“Hey, this is pretty nice!” He looked around the nook. He kicked off his boots so he wouldn’t get dirt on her sheets. “You have an actual bed! I think only me, my father, and Chloe have mattresses.”

“It’s a trade off for sleeping down here.”

[abeatrizcv]

WIP - “King and Queen”

I realized how much I changed with time when it came to my OCs and stories… When I was much younger, I was proud and hyper-happy to yap to everyone my stories and tell them about my OCs and show them my drawings… Now I can’t help but beat myself up if something looks unfinished or not good enough or “Jeez, this looks rushed”… It’s frustrating to fight against perfectionism and very intense self criticism. Specially when every time I make something I’m proud of, I feel like I’m not good enough when I post it out there… It’s like if now, showing people what I love makes me feel ashamed and scared that they might not like it…

I’m fighting myself to just create. Forget about everyone and just do whatever you want. BE FREE DAMMIT! ENJOY YOUR ART! And well… It’s a bit hard, but I’m gonna try anyways…