#this wasn't supposed to be this long what happened

[craftea-fork]

SORRY THIS IS SO LONG On the nature of the bans and the "progressive culture" led by terfs that support this, they've missed a massive point. While we strive to provide space for everyone who wants to compete, liberals seem to have missed the point of feminism completely. The goal of equality is equity, supporting people by providing them a field of fair play. Leagues and other metrics could be used to create tiers of skill rather than arbitrary sex division. Why is this so complicated, and when we go to schools why does it have to be divided by age? is not height and weight important in more than just wrestling?

ex. we see all basketball players start to get taller just to play on the same field, so suddenly short kids are being told they have no chance to play.

wtf is going on with our culture.

Little league, college football... the age and gender needs to matter less than the level of skill if we want to give all kids a good experience and all athletes a chance to shine.

You want join sport, your skill level is judged, you are put on a team and play against people of similar skill until you win [ outperform ] and move up a rank.

Also, if you want my opinion the majority of the people who are queer are repressing it. the presumption based on polls doesn't take into account parental and cultural rearing. so I think that if we had total access to information since we were kids, and shame just didn't happen, our numbers would be closer to 20% being gay, 40% bi, and 30% transgender [ IMO ] - i think a lot of people repress it and would enjoy being open about whatever it is if it didn't make their friends "weird"

People are freaking out because we are starting to see more of the AMAB femboy who likes to go by he even though he dresses like a 'girl' a lot of the time, but what about when women started wearing pants? THAT WAS GENDER NON-CONFORMING. early 1900s ppl. Gender non-conformance of the feminist movement wasn't so different than being transgender.

i think gay got popular in 1980s so information about gayness circulated, but without other information or opportunity to change anything about what their bodies would be later from a young age.

Cisgender as a concept is by nature built on the fear of being different, because of the binary mentality about it all. But literally EVERYTHING is a spectrum, if we just let it be. Instead we create problems that prevent potential.

ex. a lesbian thinks shes transmasc OH but they really LIKE the LESBIAN community and being a man would rule them out of women only spaces.

ex. maybe I am a man who doesn't like competing against the other men, oh i guess i have no space to compete where i enjoy the experience i guess i just won't be an athlete.

Shame, culture, shame.

TLDR ?

[ feminism was supposed to be about opportunity to be equal, and they left "men" behind in terms of equality theology ]

One last note: GSRM means gender, sexual, and romantic minorities and is a far more encompassing term than lgbt or lgbtqia+ imo, being poly and i consider that to be a minority that is frowned upon. i'm also bi but i am with a man. I just don't get why non-physical spaces (i.e. online communities) need to be exclusive. so please use gsrm, and embrace all people who question their gender, sexuality, or romantic inclinations and provide them with love and knowledge.

It often feels like mainstream acceptance of queer people, particularly trans and nonbinary people, is contingent on there being few of us. When I was a kid witnessing arguments about gay marriage, statistics about LGBTQ people were so often presented in such a way as to reassure everyone else that we are not dangerous because we are rare. "It's not going to cause societal collapse ... because such a small percentage of people are gay."

And conservative rhetoric against queer people, particularly trans people, which explicitly refers to us as a "social contagion," really underscores that any perceived "increase" in sexual or gender diversity will be seen as a threat. If queer people are permitted to exist, we must be aberrant and isolated. If we are normal and natural and commonly occurring, it is because something has gone terribly wrong.

So. Forgive me if I bristle at the well-meaning argument that "these trans athlete bans are ridiculous, they're only going to affect a few dozen people!" I understand where they're coming from. But I think trans people should be free and abundant.

[theminecraftbee]

"You let me think you were dead, you know."

Jimmy winces, but he doesn't turn around to look at Grian, or Cuteguy, or whatever he's going by right now. He considers just walking away. He considers a lot of things, but he doesn't expect he'll be able to, because--

"Don't walk away from me, Jimmy."

When Jimmy turns around, Grian's only half-dressed as Cuteguy, wearing no goggles, the paints he uses to disguise his wings slowly bleeding out, streaks of bold pink and black dripping down otherwise dull brown patterns. Jimmy takes a moment to stare. He's not quite sure which name he's supposed to be calling the man in front of him. On the one hand, he's not wearing the goggles, his dark eyes fully visible to the world. On the other hand, he's still wearing most of the clothes, and there's escrima sticks still hanging from his belt, and while the paint is fading it's still right there, hiding the patterns that make the wings identifiable as Grian.

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. "I did," he says, finally.

"You let me think you were shot in the head in front of me," Cuteguy says.

"That, uh, did happen," Jimmy says. Cuteguy gestures at Jimmy. Jimmy swallows. "Look, uh, it's not like it was super fun for me to wake up in the morgue either."

"You could have said something!" Cuteguy says. "You could have--you could have just, just rung me up and, and said--"

"Sorry man, it turns out that you getting me killed got undone?" Jimmy says, equally quietly, and Grian reels back in the same way that Jimmy imagines he must have when he was shot, too.

"Timmy," Grian says.

"I mean, I don't actually really blame you that much at this point," Jimmy says. "I don't really--it's not exactly your fault someone else shot us. I'm--I mean, I'm not happy with--you call him Forgery. Not so happy he didn't know that--yeah. But it's still a little... I did die, you know."

"You should have said something," Cuteguy says.

"I'm still kinda dead," Jimmy says.

"Timmy, I--I thought you were dead. I thought I wasn't ever--I'm sorry," Grian says.

"Oh," Jimmy says, because he's not sure what else to say. He both did and didn't expect an apology. It is, after all, Grian; it is, after all, Grian.

"I'm sorry, I'm--I was just, just yelling at you again because I was scared, because, because you're one of my best friends, and, and you were dead, Timmy. You were dead."

Jimmy's not sure what to say, or which of the person in front of him said that. He's fairly certain it's Grian. He's also fairly certain the world is grey and blurry again, and he has to take deep breaths, digging his fingers into his palms and trying very hard to remember that it's not really Cuteguy's fault, or even really Forgery's; until then, neither of them had understood how dangerous it was, either.

But it's not them that faced the consequences, is it?

Joel says it's fair to be angry. It's fair to blame them. Jimmy doesn't know that it is.

"I was dead," agrees Jimmy.

"Not going to say anything else?" Grian asks.

"No," Jimmy says.

Grian stares, and then it is most certainly Cuteguy who pulls himself together, shakes his wings until his feathers are straighter, and puts on a face that betrays nothing of the heartbreak or confusion or hurt he's feeling. Jimmy does, absolutely, hate it.

"Actually, I just wish... I don't know, man. Never mind," Jimmy says.

(He hates the way he doesn't recognize his own best friend some days nearly as much as he hates the way he doesn't recognize himself.)

Cuteguy stares for a long moment.

"Yeah, me too," he says. "Do... do you wanna come get sushi at that one weird place you like? Where you have the weird rivalry with that one server?"

"He insists salmon is the best sushi fish, and is absolutely wrong," Jimmy says primly, and then he nods, and even Cuteguy can't help but betray his relief.

They walk side-by-side, together. It doesn't really matter who they are now.

[crispywriter]

Gale Dekarios is a quiet kind of beautiful.

When you'd first met—pulled him headfirst into you from within the depths of that unstable portal—you truly hadn't thought all that much of him. Not to say that you weren't immediately aware of the man's handsomeness, but the tadpole squirming within your brain, threatening to change you into an unfeeling monster was top priority in that particular moment.

As the weeks had passed and you'd gotten to know him, opened your heart toward him, deepened your trust and eventually fell madly, completely, utterly in love with him—every little detail about the wonderful wizard was revealed to you and to your surprise, you fall impossibly deeper for him with every passing day.

Now, as you sit lounging across the worn old bench on the balcony outside your shared home in Waterdeep, legs sprawled over his knees, you've completely forgotten whatever ancient tome it is Professor Dekarios has asked you to look over in favour of admiring the way the late afternoon sun falls upon his face.

He's gotten softer now—the months of sleeping in comfortable beds and eating balanced meals treating him much kinder than the roughness of the time spent travelling to Baldur's Gate, and he's told you he wasn't much better before, when he'd spent so long worried over his potential to bring an end to an entire city. Your eyes linger on the shapely curve of his neck, the strength of his jaw, the wisdom of the creases and lines on his face—his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads, his growing hair half swept back into a knot behind his head, warm sunlight catching in his eyelashes and making him appear almost ethereal.

"I know you're staring." Gale breaks the comfortable silence, turning his head just slightly toward you and tapping his glasses up his nose. The spectacles are a welcome addition, you think, adding to both your devilish fantasies and the overwhelming love toward him. "You're supposed to be helping me decipher that. I've got exams to prepare."

"How am I to focus on translating Infernal when you're sitting here looking the way you do?" You bite back, nothing but adoration in your tone.

"Looking like what?" He turns his head to you fully now, strands of hair falling about his lovely tanned skin, the deep chocolatey brown catching the sun just as his lashes had, lighting it golden.

"Gods, I don't know if there's a word that would suffice—an angel, perhaps?" You hum and close the book you were supposed to be reading.

He'd told you once that with you he forgets his goddess. With him you forget every other divine being in all of the realm's histories.

Gale flushes a delightful shade of red, tutting his tongue to his teeth and shaking his head slightly. "You and your ridiculous..." He trails off, "you haven't happened upon another mindflayer tadpole by chance?"

"Disgusting, and no, I assure you these thoughts are entirely my own." You grin, shuddering at the phantom feeling of something wriggling about inside your head. "What? I can't compliment you now without you doubting me?"

"Your compliments I can handle." Gale chuckles as he turns his attention back to his book, his eyelashes lighting up gold once more. "Your flattery—though once I thoroughly enjoyed—I now find myself unable to accept."

You almost pout at that, but knowing where the professor's proud nature had come from and all the years of trying to live up to—what were by all intents and purposes—unreasonable expectations, you swallow it down and instead swing your legs around and scoot closer to your beloved's warm body, the navy silk shirt he wears loose on his body, the buttons popped open lower than he'd allow under any other circumstances, and you take the opportunity to slip your hand inside and rest your palm over the steady beat of his heart. It stutters when your proximity increases and Gale releases a sigh that begins confident but loses strength somewhere in the middle.

"Darling, I'm busy." His voice wavers. You smile and nudge your nose against the softness of his hair, right by his ear.

"Ignore me." You whisper, delighted at the way the wizard shivers in response, your thumb rubbing lazy half-moons on his chest, your other arm going around his neck until your hand finds purchase on his shoulder, squeezing at the tension in his muscles. "Relax. Pretend I'm not even here."

"By the Weave—"

You smile and begin to kiss across his temple, stretching your neck up as your nose presses into his hair, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and worn book pages, plain soap and the underlying crisp smell of magic that tickles your nose as you press your lips to his skin. Both your arms go around his neck and you cup the opposite side of his face in your hand, trying not to disturb his spectacles too much as you adorn his soft cheeks with sweet smooches, humming happily as he tries his very best to continue to focus but still leans into your touch.

"My love..." Gale gives another sigh, this one sounding almost defeated as he turns his head and allows you to trail your pathway of kisses toward his lips. "You're being rather unfair."

"Unfair?" Your smile only grows as you tangle your fingers into your lover's hair and tease his mouth with your own, your lips barely brushing his. "It's not my fault you're unable to resist me."

He keens into your feather-light kisses, his mouth parting as he breathes you in, eyelids fluttering closed and his book almost forgotten—his determination so quickly abandoned now you've got him twisted around your fingertips. You hum softly and gently comb your fingers through Gale's hair, dodging his neediness to nuzzle your way back up the side of his face, your nose skimming his glasses as you press a kiss between his creased brows.

"My sweet girl..." You shuffle closer, expertly maneuvering into a kneeling position, vaguely aware of the professor finally placing his book down on the small table beside the bench before his curious hands come over to slide up your thighs and hips. "Love of my life—closer please, please—"

You smile wide at the endearment, carefully slipping your leg over the wizard's and sitting down, comfortably straddling his thighs. "I thought I was a distraction?" You gently untie the knot in his hair and let the soft strands fall free about your beloved's face before you comb your fingers through it slowly, stretching forward to press gentle kisses in his hairline every time you see a grey hair—so you end up kissing him a lot.

"Oh, you most certainly are." Gale closes his eyes as you shower him with affection, your nails lightly scratching at his scalp, his arms looping around your waist as you lean your weight into his solid body. "But a welcome one nonetheless."

💫

just thinking about how much i love this man

[kakuvibez]

Read your TWST x EAH! Reader (literally chef’s kiss) and wanted to request a Diasomnia x Darling Charming! Reader

TWST | 𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗘! DIASOMNIA DORM X DARLING CHARMING! READER │ M.LIST

Signature spell: SLOW,, When [N] Darling flips her hair in a certain way, she can briefly slow time down for anyone who is watching her. She is also very strong and athletic.

"Become a damsel in distress, it was always told I'm supposed to be. A "forgotten" tale that I was supposed to be the princess of by Headmaster Grim."

"Even tho my family is charming, they are destined to be princes who save the princess. I'm the one who is being saved"

"I always felt so much more than that. I've always wanted to be a hero, the one who saved the princess, but I worried about what it would mean for my family if I was labeled a Rebel. Then again, what if nobody ever found out?"

"I don’t need to be a damsel in distress! I am the knight!"

"No, Lilia, I will not carry you to the infirmary just because you ‘suddenly feel faint’!"

"Why do I feel like I’m being tricked into saving them?"

[Name] Darling Charming wasn't your typical princess. While her family was renowned for their charming princes, she was, well, [N]. And she was determined to be a knight. Forget waiting in a tower; [N] preferred training in the courtyard, her signature spell, "Slow," a closely guarded secret. A flick of her wrist, a toss of her hair, and time would stutter for those watching – just long enough for her to land a decisive blow.

"Become a damsel in distress, it was always told I'm supposed to be," [N] muttered, adjusting her training gear. "A 'forgotten' tale that I was supposed to be the princess of by Headmaster Grim." She scoffed. "Even though my family are the Charmings, they are destined to be princes who save the princess. I'm the one who is being saved."

The thought rankled. "I always felt so much more than that. I've always wanted to be a hero, the one who saved the princess, but I worried about what it would mean for my family if I was labeled a Rebel. Then again, what if nobody ever found out?"

Her resolve hardened. "I don’t need to be a damsel in distress! I am the knight!"

This conviction led her to Night Raven College, and, inexplicably, to Diasomnia. The dorm, with its elegant, powerful students, was… odd. They were constantly in need of rescuing. Lilia, with his dramatic fainting spells (which [N] suspected were entirely performative). Sebek, always getting into scrapes he insisted he could handle, right before needing a hand. And Malleus… well, Malleus just had a knack for being in the right place at the right time for a dramatic rescue.

"Why do I feel like I’m being tricked into saving them?" she’d grumble to herself, hefting Lilia (again) towards the infirmary. "No, Lilia, I will not carry you to the infirmary just because you ‘suddenly feel faint’!"

One afternoon, during a particularly chaotic training session (caused, naturally, by a rogue gust of wind that just happened to knock over a stack of very important, very fragile Diasomnia heirlooms), [N] found herself face-to-face with Malleus. He was surrounded by the shattered remnants of… something. He looked, for lack of a better word, distressed.

"Oh, [N]," he sighed, his voice laced with… something. Pity? Admiration? [N] couldn't quite place it. "Such a tragedy. I fear I've made a terrible mess."

[N] narrowed her eyes. "What exactly happened, Malleus?"

He gestured vaguely at the debris. "A… unfortunate accident. I was merely admiring the craftsmanship when… well, you see."

[N] did see. She saw a very strategically placed vase, a very convenient gust of wind (again!), and Malleus’s very dramatic sigh. She also saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Malleus,” she said slowly, “are you trying to make me rescue you?”

He blinked, feigning innocence. "Whatever do you mean, [N]? I would never dream of imposing upon your kindness."

[N] crossed her arms. "You're all doing it," she accused, her voice rising slightly. "Lilia, Sebek, even you! You act like you need saving, but you don't! You're all incredibly powerful! It's… it's manipulative!"

Malleus chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Perhaps," he conceded, taking a step closer. "But you must admit, Darling, you are quite good at it." Using your first name this time felt weird.

[N]’s “Slow” almost kicked in instinctively. She could feel the familiar tingle at her fingertips, the urge to flick her hair, to freeze this moment. But she resisted. She wasn't going to be manipulated.

"I'm a knight," she stated firmly, meeting his gaze. "And knights protect those who truly need it. Not those who are pretending."

Malleus's smile widened. "And what if," he whispered, "I truly need your protection, Darling?"

[N]’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn't sure if it was from annoyance or… something else. She looked at Malleus, really looked at him, and saw a vulnerability that was usually hidden beneath layers of regal composure. Maybe, just maybe, they weren't all pretending. Maybe, even the mighty Malleus Draconia sometimes needed a knight in shining armor.

A small smile played on Darling’s lips. "Then I suppose," she said, "I'll just have to be the best knight I can be."

And as she said it, she knew. She wasn't just a knight. She was their knight. And perhaps, that was exactly what Diasomnia needed.

-----

Before-

Diasomnia has never needed a hero.

That is what you tell yourself, time and time again, as Lilia dramatically swoons into your arms, as Silver suddenly forgets how to parry during training, as Sebek loudly exclaims that he is in grave danger… and as Malleus smiles, ever so softly, as if he knows you’ll come to his rescue every time.

"Ah, my knight," Lilia sighs theatrically, holding a hand to his forehead as you catch him mid-fall. "What would I do without you?"

You roll your eyes, setting him down again. "I know you don’t need saving, Lilia."

"But if I want to be saved?" he teases, his fanged grin playful.

Sebek suddenly drops his training sword, clutching his chest as if he has been fatally wounded. "A-ack! I… I think I may perish—!"

You don’t even look at him. "Sebek, I swear—"

"Human!" he cries, his golden eyes desperate. "Save me!"

Malleus watches, amused, as you huff and march over, shoving a hand into Sebek’s chest and pushing him upright.

"There, you’re saved."

"Hah! Your strength is most impressive!" Sebek beams, suddenly fine again.

You sigh. This has become a routine.

You were supposed to be the one proving yourself as a knight. As a hero. But somewhere along the way, the strongest and most feared dorm of Night Raven College decided that they needed you to be their knight instead.

Malleus chuckles, stepping forward, and your breath catches as his green eyes meet yours. "You always come running when we call," he murmurs, his voice as deep and smooth as a lullaby.

His fingers brush your wrist, lingering there. Too close. Too gentle.

"Perhaps you were always meant to be our hero."

You swallow hard, because the way he says ours…

You’re starting to wonder if you’ll ever be allowed to save anyone else.

---

Malleus Draconia

- "Tell me, my knight… will you always come when I call?"

- "Ah, what a predicament. It seems I am in grave danger… and only you can save me."

- "You are OURS, [N]. Surely, you must know that by now."

Lilia Vanrouge

- "Oh, my hero! How gallant of you to catch me once again~"

- "I must admit, it’s entertaining to watch you play into our hands."

- "Come now, wouldn’t you rather stay here, where you’re NEEDED?"

Silver

- "I… I think I’m falling asleep—Oh. You caught me. Again."

- "I don’t mean to need your help… but I suppose I do, don’t I?"

- "You always save us… but who is there to save you?"

Sebek Zigvolt

- "HUMAN! I AM UNDER ATTACK!—Oh, you caught me. Excellent work!"

- "You cannot ignore me! I am in need of a knight’s assistance!"

- "Tch. It is only natural that you should protect us. After all, we are your most precious ones, are we not?"

You wanted to be a hero. A knight. A savior. But now you’re starting to wonder…

Who will save you from them?

[crowsongcaws]

(This is easily one of my favorite depictions of Codfather Jimmy, it feeds into my Empires s1 worldbuilding interest, and YES long hair!!! I love this account so much, I depend on each daily post, of course I had to write something)

The Codfather could feel a pair of eyes on him.

It wasn't an entirely unusual feeling—he was used to getting stray looks whenever he stood beside his sister. They'd see the Ocean Queen in all her glory, then their gaze would slide down to him, and he'd be able to feel the disappointment like a shiver and taste the pity on his tongue. He'd never quite gotten used to it.

This stare, however, was more persistent.

The Codfather tried to shake off the feeling, tried to keep himself focused on the emperor's meeting at hand, but the itch of it made him cave within a handful of minutes.

Glancing up at the current speaker, fWhip, he quickly let his eyes flicker to each person until his eyes met Smajor's. Immediately (the elf must have just then realized how long he'd been staring), he averted his gaze and fumbled with his pen to write down any sort of useful notes. The fins on the side of the Codfather's head flapped briefly in confusion, but he couldn't ask anything while fWhip was speaking, so he tuned back into the spoken topic and tried to return to his note-taking.

It was only after the meeting had come to an end that he suddenly found Smajor by his side. Admittedly, he was left flabbergasted by the sudden interest in him, and it was getting harder to assume Smajor's true interest had something to do with the Ocean Queen. Part of his inner turmoil must've been clear on his face because Smajor had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

"My apologies, Codfather," Smajor managed to say, formal and polite as usual—had he ever relaxed? "I just happened to notice the feather you've got in your hair, and I was wondering if that's a new fashion statement of yours?"

"I—I mean, yes?" The Codfather stammered, his confusion only becoming more apparent by the second. "Well, uh... it isn't a new fashion thing, or a 'fashion' thing at all, it's just... new for me."

Smajor tilted his head, just as confused.

Jimmy hurriedly added, "to the Cod, the sea and the sky are one and the same. Some of the more traditional people will say that this holds true enough that in this life, I may live as Cod, but in the next life, I'll be an Avian. So this feather, it represents the life before this one and the life I'll have after—that I always have and always will strive for the best no matter what."

"'The best'?" Smajor asked.

"Probably lost in translation over the centuries," he admitted, "so everyone interprets it differently. Some people say 'the best' means world peace, individual satisfaction with work or relationships, stuff like that, but I consider it to be personal happiness. I feel like it'd be hard to achieve anything else if you weren't personally happy."

At that, Smajor hummed in agreement, but he looked lost in thought. The Codfather hadn't expected to be sharing a part of his empire's culture so suddenly (or at all), but it struck him as comforting to see someone curious about it rather than the larger and more apparent culture of the Ocean Empire. Still...

"What made you ask?" he prodded.

Smajor suddenly seemed very blank-faced, his words failing for a handful of seconds before he finally said, "I thought you were engaged—"

"Engaged!?"

"—because avians in Rivendell, we—they—give feathers to those they're supposed to marry! And I didn't realize you were being courted by an avian, and the feather was so small, I didn't know if the courtship was supposed to be subtle and you were just walking around with it anyways because you wouldn't know that—"

"I'm not engaged! Lizzie would kill me if I was and she didn't know!"

The Codfather self-consciously brought a hand up to the feather, debating whether to tuck it away or remove it altogether in his wave of embarrassment, but Smajor was quicker—the elf reached out and grabbed his hand, startling them both.

"I'm sorry—" "I hope I didn't bother you—"

They both paused, and at that point, both had felt enough embarrassment to last for weeks. Smajor carefully pulled the Codfather's hand away from the feather, gently smoothing out the hair to not get tangled with the single feather.

"I'm sorry," Smajor repeated, "I just... didn't want you embarrassing yourself, and I just ended up embarrassing myself instead."

"It was a nice thought! And, well, it was nice to see someone notice. No one really asks about the Cod Empire if it isn't slime-related," The Codfather laughed, if only to mask his disappointment.

"... If you want to talk about it more, I'd love to learn more. None of my books ever teach much about the culture of other empires."

"Are you sure? It can be messy, and uh, a lot of it is just spoken history since it's so difficult to get everything written down in a majority-underwater empire—"

"Then I'll listen. Maybe take some notes if I can, so there's something in Rivendell about it."

The Codfather felt like he would genuinely cry over such an offer.

He eagerly said, "You know what? Sure! Just, send a letter! When you've got the time, of course. Leave the rest to me!"

...

Some years later, the Codfather would have a white feather of his own tangled in his hair.

...

One life later, an avian with bright yellow wings would wake up in a death game with the faintest memory of snow-cold hands and red poppies.

ah ... perchance a codfather ? or , If you are familiar at all with Jimmy's legacy smp , well . a jimmy clueless never hurt anyone ....

Day 75!

Codfather!! I just think he's pretty neat.

[lazysoulwriter]

is it casual now? - paul mescal.

You know it's stupid, the way you keep letting this happen. But it's Paul. And when it comes to Paul, you never think straight.

It's not just that he's devastatingly handsome, with his boyish smile and that ridiculous gold chain he never takes off. It's the way he looks at you sometimes, like he's not supposed to. The way he holds your wrist when he's making a point, thumb brushing against your skin absentmindedly. The way he always asks if you're warm enough before handing you his jacket, even though you insist you're fine.

The way he fucks you like he's in love with you.

Except, he's not. And you're not together. At least, that's what he says.

"You know what people are saying?" your friend, Lily, asks one night, sipping a gin and tonic at the bar. She raises a knowing brow. "That you’re just some girl he bangs on his couch."

You laugh, but it’s forced. "People say a lot of things."

And yet, it stings. Because it's not true. Not really. Right?

You're not just a late-night call. He takes you out, sometimes. He texts you good morning and sends you stupid memes throughout the day. He invites you over, and not just when he's drunk or lonely. He takes his time with you, always. And his touch—it lingers.

But then, there are the other times. The ones where he keeps his distance in public, introducing you as just a friend. The ones where he doesn’t reach for your hand. The ones where he shrugs off the question of what you are with an easy, "We’re just having fun."

Maybe you could handle it better if it was purely physical, if there wasn't that underlying sweetness to the way he treats you. If he didn't make you coffee in the morning, shirtless in his kitchen, humming some song under his breath. If he didn't pull you closer in his sleep, murmuring your name like it meant something more.

And now, this.

Knee-deep in the passenger seat of his car, his head between your thighs, your fingers threading through his curls as he looks up at you with that devastatingly soft expression.

He hums against your skin, and you shudder. "Okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe, though your mind is spinning, your chest tightening. "Paul—"

He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh before sitting back up, running a hand through his hair. You watch as he exhales, his gaze flicking to you before he smiles, easy and content. As if this is normal. As if it doesn’t mess with your head every single time.

"Come here," he murmurs, tugging you onto his lap, pressing his lips to yours, lazy and unhurried.

If it’s just casual, why does he kiss you like that?

Two weeks later, his mom invites you to her house in Long Beach.

You almost don't go. But then Paul sends you a text the morning of, a simple, "Hope you’re still coming," and you fold. Because you always do.

His mom is lovely, warm and welcoming, and you help her prepare dinner while Paul watches with that quiet admiration that makes you feel unsteady. And when he reaches for your waist absentmindedly, pressing a hand to your back as he passes by, it feels real. It feels like something.

Later, when you're washing dishes together, she glances at you with a soft smile. "You make him happy, you know."

Your hands still in the sink. "I—"

She chuckles. "I can see it. The way he looks at you."

Your chest tightens, but you don't say anything. You don’t want to get your hopes up.

But later that night, when Paul pulls you onto his couch, tucking you under his arm, you decide to ask.

"Is it casual now?" you murmur against his chest.

He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tracing absent circles against your hip. Then, softly, "Does it feel casual to you?"

You hesitate, then shake your head. "No."

"Me neither."

Your breath catches. "Then what are we doing, Paul?"

He exhales, pressing his lips to your hair. "Falling, I think."

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the ending!!

I'm soooo sorry nonny. This took 5ever. For some reason, I mentally decided that the completion of this ask would be the end of my Onyx Storm era, and then I didn't want to go near it because I didn't want the book to be done :(. However, I was brave, and I did it. This got insanely obscenely long, so you're getting Xaden's chapter 65 now, and then I'll reblog with Vi's LAST chapter some other time.

Chapter 65: Xaden

Veninism: I think the first thing that comes up in this chapter is the insight into the venin mindset. Xaden's significantly more intense (both than earlier in the book, and in his previous POV chapters). At first, I wasn't a huge fan of the "ice" thing, because I missed the part where he explains it (perks of reading till 5 in the morning) and I thought it was some anachronistic hockey reference. (Fun fact: I wrote this out before Rebecca gave that interview revealing that, yes, it WAS an anachronistic hockey reference. I know that lady WELL.) HOWEVER! The way it's explained here, (essay below the cut)

"Wrath courses like a current under the ice I willingly skate onto, cutting my emotions like the burdens they are so I can be the weapon she needs." (Yarros, 520)

reminds me a lot of a PTSD flashback/trauma event. Not only does this make significantly more sense with the metaphor at hand, but it makes a lot more sense with Rebecca's body of work. I know she's made addiction comparisons, and I can see some lines, but, frankly, I think it's a much more intricate web than a 1-1 metaphor. Especially with the use of the word "triggered" to describe what happens to him when he is "on the ice" as it were, I think (if anything) it's about using an addiction to cope with PTSD-type trauma.

Bond Fuckery: After revealing that Xaden cannot kill the sage himself, he goes on to say,

"I could no more raise a blade to his throat than I could Violet. The bond between Violence and me is the kind of magic that has no explanation." (Yarros, 521)

Which....is weird! Given that we have a precise explanation for said bond in Fourth Wing, maybe something else is going on? #the power of love?? I'm not trying to say they're soul mates in any real tangible way because this is not that kind of story, but I do think it means something. I just don't know what yet.

Further bond fuckery themes are found earlier in the book. There's the entire situation with Andarna leaving, in which Leothan says,

"Bonds are merely magical ties. You are irid. You are magic. Bend it, shape it, break it as you see fit." (Yarros, 443)

I've definitely seem some people floating the idea that perhaps Andarna broke Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond, re: Tairn's suspicious period of rest on page 526, (I personally thought he was tired from killing some dragons!) and I definitely think that's a possibility. However, I think it's really interesting that, specifically, Leothan also says bend it and shape it. I know we're supposed to finish the book thinking that Andarna/Leothan severed Violet's bond with Andarna, and then re-forged said bond mid-battle. To me...that doesn't really make sense? There was no real moment where you can say, okay, bond re-forged. It just kind of happens? Which I suppose is also how it happens at threshing, so maybe I'm the problem. Still, I think the idea that perhaps Andarna (or another irid??? given her 1 week of training???) bent or reshaped Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond (in order to protect Xaden/Xaden's mission/Violet from the consequences of Xaden's mission) is worth considering.

There's also the entire element of modern AU no magic isles. I know a lot of people thought that entire quest section of the book was filler, but I disagree. I definitely think that insertion was meant to demonstrate that the bonds are not as infallible as we've been led to believe, to show their importance to Xaden and Violet, and to further show just how much Andarna is not like other dragons, and therefore able to do shit with the bond.

Xaden's new brother! Xaden starts off describing the new venin by saying,

"and now that my sage has a new sibling he can use against me...I'm screwed." (Yarros, 521)

Then, he goes on to add:

"...my new brother and the unconscious dragon lying in the valley...how could he do this? Choose this after watching me stumble and fall over the last five months. How could he willingly walk the path I've fought like hell to leave? He's the last person I ever would have expected to turn, and yet here we are." (Yarros, 521)

My money's on Bodhi! There's a lot of "brother" mentions surrounding Bodhi, given the repeated descriptions of how similar he and Xaden look. He's "the closest thing (Xaden) has to a brother since Liam." Garrick even thought Theophanie called Bodhi his brother beforehand! It's Bodhi. Further nuance to Bodhi turning is found, in my opinion, in his frustration with Xaden's over-protection at the end of Onyx Storm. This feeling of impotence combined with something potentially happening to Cuir (re: unconcious dragon lying in the valley/Bodhi puking his guts up wherever that quote is) gives him a reason to turn.

I know @skyfallscotland thinks Xaden's new brother is actually Aaric, which is also super intriguing. Specifically, Amy suggested a scenario where Aaric knows he needs to be venin in order to win the war, and is willing to do whatever it takes to get to the future he sees. I do lean more towards Bodhi than Aaric, if only because of the element of knowing for 5 months (which Aaric does not--even if he finds out about Xaden's veninism from his signet, RY has confirmed Aaric didn't manifest in IF, and therefore it cannot have been five months prior to Battle of Draithus), Xaden really seems to care about this new brother. I know he says he has a "complicated sort of loyalty" to Aaric, but I don't think he and Aaric at the friendship level where Aaric can be used against him in the same way Bodhi can. There's also the whole having to give Vi Tyrrendor ordeal. I know some people think Xaden may have had a change of heart and decided to listen to Bodhi in regards to not forcing him to lead Tyrrendor in his stead, and/or Xaden just felt giving Vi the province directly (what a wedding gift!) was the best possible way to protect her. Who knows, not me. I think of Xaden as someone not particularly inclined to listening to people when he doesn't feel like it, but I also know he'll prioritize Vi regardless, so it could go either way.

Slayer! This is just for the one line mention of Berwyn killing the dragons with the alloy dagger. For one thing, I think this draws parallels between the venin and the dragons (which have been a theme the entire series). For another, I think this is how Xaden, Vi, and co. go about killing the dragons and elders in order to get to the eggs. Seems a lot less messy!

Everything, Everywhere, All At Once: Throughout the text, there's a couple mentions of individuals inability to be everywhere all at once. Theophanie, in chapter 60, for example: (from my Kindle copy, so no page numbers, sorryyyy)

"You're just another lightning wielder, mortally incapable of being everywhere at once."

Or, the slightly different take from Mira in Chapter 23:

"Even if he did, we can't be in two places at once."

I have no idea why this got me so bad, but every time I read it, my spidey-senses tingled. I really feel like it means something. Xaden then wraps things up with saying he IS everywhere at once, on page 522 in regards to the veninism amplifying his shadow powers.

Do I know what this means? No! Of course not! At first, I thought it was a papa sorrengail is venin hint, but I don't actually believe in that. I have been holding out hope that perhaps Vi is somehow venin from Lilith (this is why I think papa sorrengail had her dedicated. it doesn't really make sense to me for Rebecca to write her with a real disability, and then have that real disability be a birth defect when it isn't one in real life. that just seems odd?) and I think this COULD be a hint there. Although, as always, who knows.

What is a soul if not love? Some of you may know, I've been getting a wee bit heated about the implications of the corporeal soul. I get a bit gagged by this because it makes no sense. I ask @maethologies probably once a day, what IS a soul? And to that question, I raise you this: what is a soul if not love?

page 523 has this:

""I love you.' Violet's voice cracks the cold, and a silken thread of warmth wedges itself in the opening before it seals shut, locking it in place. No. Wait. I grab for that thread with desperate hands, clawing to keep her as more of my pieces are blown away, lost to the void. She is warmth and light and air and love."

For starters, I think "she is warmth and light and air and love" is my favorite quote from the entire series. It makes me want to cry!!! There's definitely something to the fact that being venin makes Xaden colder, and Violet only seems to get warmer in this book (her lightning being hot enough to blister, for example). But really, my focus here is that he's so aggressively in love with her. I genuinely do not know how people read this line, or the rest of the novel, and somehow thought Xaden was just going to go join up with the venin. Genuinely! I am REALLY not trying to be mean, it just makes no sense to me.

I'm going to go a bit out of order here to further contextualize, but other Xaden Riorson bangers include:

"What even am I? Hers." (Yarros, 524)

And, far earlier in the text, when Courtlyn asks to whom Xaden swears his fealty:

"Violet. (...) My loyalty is to Violet first above everything, everyone else." (this is a Kindle page number because I don't want to find it in my book, LMAO, but it's 326 in that format!)

Again, he's constantly making it as clear as humanly possible that SHE comes first for him. He is not going to spontaneously gain venin loyalty. Whatever soul-fuckery is going on here, it doesn't make him incapable of love. If anything, the presence of love is what is going to continue to save him. In the chapter 48 epigraph, in which a scenario is described wherein a venin returns to their village, desiccating an entire village except for her husband and two children. Clearly, the theme here is that the feeling of love helps venin gain control of themselves when lost to the thrall of power, if you will.

Frankly, there's a LOT of issues with venin as a concept and how willing the fan base is to accept the characterization of the entire "enemy" as evil, soulless, and incapable of feeling and love. Just on the most basic level, think about the real world implications of that ideology for about ten seconds. If you can't do that, think about it in-universe. The entire point of books one and two were that Navarre's government perpetuated a narrative of dehumanization in regards to the Poromish people so that Navarrians could see them as the enemy. This tactic of dehumanization is then DIRECTLY applied to the venin. The narrative on the surface-level is: These people ARE human, but these other guys are the REAL monsters. Please kill THEM instead. I cannot tell you how many times I've seen people say "Violet's never killed anyone in the series, she only kills venin!" The very fact of saying these people aren't human; therefore they can die...do you see what I see? I know I'm a bit more thematically minded than the average romantasy reader, but it's really VERY in your face here.

The most obvious narrative purpose for Xaden choosing to turn is that it gives Violet and the reader a way to humanize the venin, just like working with the gryphon fliers in part two allowed us all to humanize them. After I finished IF, there was not a doubt in my mind that this was where Rebecca was going.

And she went there...a little bit? She's about halfway there, I'd say. Violet has started to internally reconcile with the fact that Xaden being a venin makes it impossible for her to generalize venin any further, but there's definitely still an undercurrent of "he's not like other venin!!" I think this COULD be a logical progression of the story, and, partially, I think it makes sense for it to take a minute for her thought processes to shift. However, I think it needs to be better layered? And I think that when you have a book like this one with such a low barrier to entry, you need to do a bit more thematic hand-holding if you want people to really get things.

Anyway, this was all to say: Xaden loves her, and so, his soul is fine. HE's fine. He's not evil, he didn't marry her just to leave, he's not "team venin". Etc! I could go on about this further, and I think before book 4 I'll be pushed over the edge and do so. But, for now, I do think the direction Rebecca is pushing for is the "cure" being the power of love et. al.

Mommy Issues: We come back to Sgaeyl! I know some people think Sgaeyl breaks the bond with Xaden as part of his 12 hour plan, and again, I ask: literally how.

Basically, unlike his mother, Sgaeyl isn't leaving Xaden. When he breaks through the pulling from the earth haze, he asks Sgaeyl if she forsakes him, and she says:

"'What is there left of you to forsake?' Sgaeyl lowers her head and steam gusts down the canyon, reminding me of the moment she found me in the forest at threshing. (Yarros, 523)

My direct annotation here is : threshing! Threshing = choice. And I'm right! Threshing does equal choice. She has the option to forsake him, and she doesn't! Case closed. I will say, just as a side note, the idea that she'd leave him for being extra venin is wack as hell when he became extra venin for her. I don't think she was that heated about him being venin in the first place: the focus of her ire at the end of IF was that he "picked" Violet. "You cannot! I chose you!/ But Violet chose me too." She's just a pick me dragon at heart.

Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) I touched on this in response to my other ask about the ending, but now we're gonna go beat by beat.

Xaden starts what I call the quest intro by responding to Sgaeyl's threshing part 2 with:

"'You tell me.' I lower the ice and let her in."

Clearly, this is Xaden showing Sgaeyl whatever plan he's been concocting in his head.

Sgaeyl's response:

"Her next breath is laced with sulfur, and her eyes widen. 'You cannot mean to--'"

Now, this is just needlessly vague to make sure we buy the next book. Like we weren't going to anyway. Thank you for extorting me, Red Tower. However, at the very least, it reveals that his plan is, shall we say, problematic? Controversial? Illegal?

Then, we have (from Xaden)

"'You saw what happened. It is the only way.' She glances over her shoulder. 'And you think she'll help?' 'She loves me.' 'Tairn does not, and you haven't looked in a mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning.' 'She'll help.' It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. 'She promised.'"

Line by line time!

"it is the only way" is mad interesting from Xaden "the right way isn't the only way" Riorson. It could just be the influence of being venin on his psyche---everything feels more serious now, and he himself is more intense. But it's such an interesting switch, especially since Violet's assumed his way of thinking from FW.

At first I thought the pronoun fuckery in SHE'll help/SHE loves me was meant to indicate that the she in question was not actually Violet, but I don't think so anymore. I do think it's intentionally misleading! Again, for the money. But, more than that, I think Sgaeyl is glancing over her shoulder AT Violet and Tairn to indicate who they're yapping about.

Now, how will she help? I think this is a separate quandary than the marriage (hence where I broke up the text). Personally, I think this is him saying Vi goes with him to get the eggs/kill the dragons/etc.

The veins branching from his eyes are intriguing. I know he says he's no longer an initiate on this page, but I don't think he's an Asim either? According to Mr. Drake Cordella's venin compendium, Asim's veins distend only when riled, but Sage's veins are perpetually distended. (Iron Flame chapter 47 epigraph). I guess we'll see? I don't know, it would make sense to me if he was a sage, but who knows.

And, finally, what the hell did she promise?

WAY earlier on in the book, Xaden says:

"Swear you'll sound the alarm if I go too far, that you'll keep it safe, even if it's from me." (Yarros, 58)

This is what I think he's referring to! I know @hockeyspiral23 thinks the 'it' in question is actually the sword of Tyrrendor (correct me if I'm wrong!!) and not Tyrrendor itself. I definitely think there's something to that theory.

A few pages later, Xaden says:

"I'll use Tyrrendor to protect you, not you to protect Tyrrendor." (Yarros, 102)

Not to be a broken record, but again: Intentionally! Misleading! Content! I think you're SUPPOSED to interpret the promise as Violet saying she'll protect Tyrrendor from Xaden, and Xaden saying he's "gone too far". But when you actually look at the text, there's no way that's what he's saying. First of all, why would Sgaeyl think THAT plan wouldn't work with Tairn? Tairn does NOT fuck with Xaden right now. And then, why would Xaden Riorson, president and CEO of the Violet Sorrengail fan club, prioritize Tyrrendor over Violet? He cares about Tyrrendor, sure, but in the face of VIOLET? It doesn't compare. It just doesn't! ("I love you more than this city. Do not die defending it.") He's not winning any king of the year awards with those priorities, but that doesn't make it any less true. I basically already have a post ranting about this, (here! If you're curious) so I'm going to cut myself off here. Basically, we have to remember who Xaden actually is when we try to contextualize this vague ass chapter.

And then, wedding bells!

"'Even if she agrees, no one will--'

'Someone owes me a favor.'" (Yarros, 524)

This is the part of the quest that I think is more directly the marriage issue. This has already been covered elsewhere, but the Priestess from Dunne's temple says she owes Xaden a favor earlier on. She goes on to officiate their marriage. I just think the wording makes it clear that this is a multi-step plan. (How can Violet "help" with her own marriage?)

I already quoted the absolute banger "What even am I? Hers." But I'm going to bring it up again! His loyalty, primarily, is to Violet. Whatever quest he's going on, it's FOR HER. He steals the eggs FOR HER. He''s taking them somewhere FOR HER. I don't know how to make that any clearer, but if I keep seeing people misinterpret it, I'll probably try again.

Agency!

The final bit I'm going to pull is Sgaeyl saying:

"And her decision will determine our fate." (Yarros, 524).

I think this just really succinctly makes clear my 573938503 argument above. Violet gets final say on Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) but whatever he does do, he's doing it with Sgaeyl. I know there's some good bits Rebecca's said throughout the tour that support this interpretation, but I don't think I need them quite yet. Maybe next time!

For now, that's all. I'll see y'all back here with Violet's chapter in a bit!

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 26 Chapter 26 | fortune's veil⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

After waking from the dreamlike encounter with Aphrodite, you found yourself lying in your own bed, the early morning light filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow across your room.

The surreal experience left you dazed, a mix of confusion and awe swirling within you as you tried to reconcile the goddess' revelations about the lifted curse and its implications for your life.

The warmth of the dream still clung to your skin like a fading perfume, making the mundane reality of your room seem oddly disconnected.

As you sat up, the echoes of Aphrodite's voice seemed to linger in the air, a constant reminder that while the curse was lifted, the capricious nature of the gods remained a powerful force, one that could shift the course of your life in ways you could scarcely imagine.

Unfortunately, you couldn't linger on such thoughts for long. Duty called, and you had responsibilities that wouldn't wait, even for divine revelations. As you finished getting dressed and made your way through the palace, performing your morning duties, you found yourself more observant, more aware of the subtle shifts in the behavior of those around you.

Were they just being polite, or did they sense something different about you now?

It wasn't until midday, as you were lost in thought while polishing the silver in the dining hall, that you were caught off guard by a familiar presence bounding toward you. Callias' grin was wide as he made his way through the bustling corridor, his face lighting up as he dodged around other servants and nearly tripped over a lounging dog in his haste.

As Callias made his way to you, his first words were tinged with surprise. "How come you're still in your servant's attire?" His brows were raised, a playful yet incredulous look painting his features, face still flushed from his sprint.

You blinked, confused by his question. "What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Callias huffed, his impatience evident. "Were you even paying attention to the king's announcement at the feast last night? He declared that today would be the Cultural Exchange Festival between Ithaca, Athena's domain, and Bronte, Ares' domain. Everyone's supposed to dress in the styles of either place to celebrate the unity!"

At the mention of the feast, a flush crept up your cheeks, your mind involuntarily recalling the incident with Telemachus—how close he had been, the intensity in his eyes. But just as quickly as the warmth appeared, it tapered off, overshadowed by the realization of why it had happened, the manipulation by Eros, and Aphrodite's subsequent revelation in your dream.

You shook off the memory, focusing back on Callias, who was now watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "I... I guess I missed that part," you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed. "It was a hectic night."

"Well, you better hurry up and change then," Callias said, his tone lightening, trying to ease the mood. "You can't miss out on all the fun. Plus, there's a ship docked this morning from a distant land, and they've brought things from far-off lands that you wouldn't believe!"

His excitement was infectious, and despite the lingering thoughts of divine interventions and cursed legacies, you found yourself nodding along, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Alright, lead the way then. Just let me put this away and I'll find something more fitting to wear."

Callias grinned, satisfied with your response, and bounced on his heels. "Great! Meet me at the festival; I'll be lingering near the front. Don't take too long!"

Watching him dart off, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and amusement at his ability to pull you out of your reverie and back into the present. With a more immediate concern now at hand, you hurried back to your quarters, your steps quickening with the prospect of the festival and what wonders it might hold, pushing the complexities of gods and curses to the back of your mind for just a little longer.

.☆.      .✩.          .☆.

You arrived at the festival already in full swing, the grounds buzzing with a vibrant blend of Ithaca and Bronte's cultures. The air was rich with the smells of roasted meats and freshly baked breads, mingling with the sweet scents of pastries and spiced wines that vendors shouted about from their stalls. Children darted through the crowd, their laughter rising above the murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of music from a corner where musicians played.

For the occasion, you had chosen to wear a simple yet vibrant outfit reflecting both cultures. Your skirt was a deep ocean blue, and tied to your head was a forest green scarf, symbolizing the waters surrounding Ithaca and its lush landscapes of land.

Today, you also decided to wear your golden laurel crown, feeling it was fitting for the day's significance. It sat atop your head, catching the sunlight and casting small glimmers onto the path ahead, a subtle reminder of your recent acknowledgment by the gods.

The decorations around you showcased the unity and contrasts of the two cultures. Stands were draped in rich blues and greens, interspersed with bold touches of yellow and red, symbolizing the mingling of wisdom and valor, peace and conflict. Banners fluttered in the breeze, displaying symbols of olive branches and swords crossed in harmony.

As you made your way through the festival, absorbing the lively atmosphere, you suddenly heard your name. Turning toward the sound, you saw Callias making his way toward you with an excited grin, dodging past other festival-goers with a nimble grace that reflected his light spirits. His friends followed, laughing and chatting amongst themselves, clearly caught up in the festive spirit.

"Look who finally decided to join us!" Callias exclaimed as he reached you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "What's got you in such a rush?"

Callias' grin widened as he gestured broadly to the scene around you. "How can you not be excited? It's not every day we get to see such a blend of Athena's calm and Ares' passion all in one place!"

His excitement was contagious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be fully drawn into the joy of the festival, the earlier weight of divine secrets momentarily lightened by the simple pleasure of the celebration.

The rest of the group finally caught up, each one of them wearing bright smiles that mirrored the festive spirit in the air. "Took you long enough," Callias teased as they approached, his tone light and jovial.

Kieran laughed, rolling his eyes. "We would've been here sooner if Lysandra hadn't insisted on rescuing that runaway scarf from a tree," he said, nodding towards Lysandra who was adjusting a beautifully intricate scarf back around her neck.

"Oh, stop it. It's my favorite scarf, and you know it," Lysandra retorted with a playful swat at Kieran's arm. She then turned to you, her eyes brightening as she noticed your attire. "Oh, I love how you're embracing the festival theme with that crown. It suits you beautifully," she complimented, stepping closer to get a better look.

You felt a flush of warmth at her words, your hand subconsciously reaching up to touch the golden laurel crown. "Thank you," you replied, a bashful smile playing on your lips. You straightened up, cleared your throat, and looked around at the group, eager to dive into the festival's offerings. "So, where to first?"

Surprisingly, it was Asta who stepped forward with a wide grin, her energy almost palpable. "There's this one stall you absolutely have to try," she began, her voice filled with excitement as she grabbed your hand and started pulling you along. "They've got these amazing Brontean pastries I think you'll love!"

Feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of exploring the festival with people your age, you allowed yourself to be led by Asta, her enthusiasm infectious. You cast a half-joking, half-helpless look over your shoulder at Callias, Kieran, and Lysandra, hearing Kieran snort in amusement. "Oh, get ready guys—Asta's going to ramble her ear off about every dish she has to try."

The group's laughter mingled with the music and chatter around you, the sounds of the festival enveloping you in a tapestry of joy and camaraderie.

As Asta pulled you along, weaving through the bustling festival, the next hour unfolded like a colorful tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents.

The festival grounds were alive with energy, each corner bursting with the vibrant traditions of both Ithaca and Bronte. Stalls lined up one after another, each adorned with banners flaunting deep ocean blues and forest greens of Athena's domain, contrasted sharply by the bold yellows and fiery reds representing Ares' territory.

The visual blend of colors not only marked the festival grounds but also symbolized the union of two distinct cultures under a banner of temporary peace and celebration.

You passed by games of skill and chance that drew lively crowds—children and adults alike shouting in excitement. Ithacan games focused more on strategy and skill, like archery contests where participants needed a keen eye and a steady hand. In contrast, Brontean games seemed to revel in strength and endurance, featuring competitions like hammer throws and tug-of-war, which showcased the brute force for which Ares' followers were renowned.

The food stalls were an adventure in themselves.

You sampled dishes that were a fusion of both kingdoms' flavors, but it was a particular pastry that caught your attention, thanks to Asta's insistence. Called "Ambrosia's Delight," this pastry was a deceptive treat—golden and dusted with a shimmering sugar that suggested a saccharine taste. However, upon biting into it, the unexpected bitterness mingled with a subtle sweetness, revealing a complexity that mirrored the delicacy's cultural significance in Bronte.

Apparently, it was a revered treat, enjoyed especially during festivals, symbolizing that even the most heavenly things can have a bitter truth beneath their golden exterior; a very Bronte lesson, considering Ares' patronage and their warrior mindset.

Amidst the laughter and cheers, you found yourself fully immersed in the festival's lively atmosphere, each new stall offering a small window into the traditions that shaped the daily lives of both Ithacan and Brontean citizens.

Asta, ever enthusiastic, narrated anecdotes about each game and dish, bringing them to life with her vibrant descriptions and personal tales. Her stories painted a picture of Bronte's rugged landscapes and the resilient spirit of its people, making you appreciate the depth of her homeland's culture even more.

Just then, Kieran, ever eager to explore more, pointed towards a nearby stall. "Look! They're starting a puppet show over there," he announced, his eyes lighting up as he gestured towards a small crowd gathering a few feet away.

Callias, still grinning from his earlier teasing, leaned in with an exaggerated smirk. "A puppet show, Kieran? What are you, five? Next, you'll be asking for—Oh," His words died in his throat as his gaze landed on someone passing out candy to the children. "They're giving out free samples of Warrior's Ember?"

Kieran barely had time to process Callias' sudden shift before Callias lunged forward, practically shoving past him. "Hey! Watch it!" Kieran yelped, stumbling as he tried to keep up.

"You watch it!" Callias shot back, his usual grace momentarily forgotten as he tripped over Kieran's foot in his rush to get to the glistening treats wrapped in parchment.

The two crashed into each other, a flailing mess of limbs and fabric, before nearly toppling to the ground. Kieran let out a dramatic "oof!" as he scrambled to stay upright, gripping Callias' sleeve for balance.

Callias, undeterred, used Kieran as leverage to push himself forward, regaining his footing before bolting toward the stall. "Out of my way, I'm getting one first!"

"You are not!" Kieran huffed, recovering quickly before chasing after him, both of them shoving and stumbling in a ridiculous race toward the vendor.

Lysandra let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head as she watched the two nearly tackle each other over candy. "Men," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms before turning toward the puppet show. "I'll go ahead and save us a seat. No point in waiting for them to finish embarrassing themselves."

Asta snorted but nodded. "Good idea."

With that, Lysandra strode off with the air of someone who had witnessed this nonsense too many times before, leaving the boys to their fate.

By the time you and Asta arrived at the puppet show, it was just kicking off. Lysandra had managed to save you both seats, and you slipped into them just as the first puppet appeared.

You glanced over and saw Callias and Kieran a few feet ahead. They were surrounded by a cluster of children, all of whom were watching the show with rapt attention while munching on the colorful candy Callias had been so excited about.

You couldn't help but snort softly at the sight—Callias seemed just as enthralled as the kids, his eyes wide, a piece of candy halfway to his mouth as he stared at the unfolding drama.

You turned your attention to the show, where a vibrant display of craftsmanship was evident in the detailed puppet figures that danced and twirled under the skilled manipulation of the puppeteers. The puppet show was a vibrant tableau of color and movement, drawing you into a world woven from threads of Brontean mythology and lore.

The story unfolded through a series of ornately dressed puppets, each character vividly brought to life by the skilled hands of the puppeteers behind the scenes.

The main character was a Brontean hero, a figure of might and ambition, dressed in a costume that shimmered with hints of dark green and gold, reflecting the militaristic and ambitious nature of his homeland. His armor was intricately designed, each plate carefully crafted to catch the light with every movement, casting tiny reflections across the awed faces of the audience.

As the play began, the hero was introduced in a dramatic fashion. The puppeteers manipulated him to stand tall and proud on the makeshift stage, a wooden sword held high, his voice—projected by a hidden actor—booming across the open space.

"Behold, I am Calix, chosen by Ares, to lead and conquer, to carve my destiny with the edge of my blade!" the puppet declared, his voice echoing with a mix of pride and foreboding.

The story that unfolded was one of epic battles and cunning strategies. Calix, the puppet hero, faced a series of challenges, each more daunting than the last, involving treacherous enemies and mythical beasts. His journey was not just one of physical combat but also of intellectual warfare, as he sought to outmaneuver his rivals and secure his place in the annals of Brontean legends.

You watched, fascinated, as Calix navigated through political intrigue and battlefield prowess, his ambitions growing with each victory. The puppets representing his enemies were equally impressive, adorned in darker hues, their faces carved to express the malice and desperation of those threatened by Calix's rise.

At one point, the tension on the stage reached a peak when Calix faced his greatest enemy—a rival warrior king who had been his friend in their youth. The scene was charged with emotional conflict, the dialogue poignant.

"Why do you climb so high, Calix, only to find yourself alone at the summit?" the rival king asked, his puppet's face twisted in a mix of anger and sorrow.

Calix responded with a steely gaze, his voice unwavering. "It is better to reign in solitude than to kneel in crowded submission."

You found yourself leaning over to whisper to Lysandra, seeking more context. "Is this a famous story in Bronte?" you asked, your voice low amid the rapt silence of the surrounding crowd.

Lysandra nodded, her eyes not leaving the stage. "Yes, it's the tale of Calix the Ambitious, a hero who teaches us both the power of relentless ambition and the isolation it can bring. It's celebrated but also serves as a cautionary tale for those wise enough to heed it."

The play concluded with Calix achieving his ultimate goal, ascending to the highest throne, but at the cost of his personal connections. The final scene showed him alone on his throne, the cheers of his army echoing hollowly in the distance as he looked out over a vast, empty battlefield.

As the puppets took their final positions and the puppeteers bowed to the applause of the crowd, you sat back, the story's moral lingering in your mind. The spectacle had been thrilling, but the underlying message was a somber reflection on the price of unchecked ambition.

The crowd around you erupted into applause, their cheers a mixture of admiration for the puppeteers' skill and contemplation of the tale's deeper meanings. You clapped along, your thoughts still intertwined with the hero's lonely victory as the group prepared to move on to the next attraction, the weight of the story adding a thoughtful note to the festival's festive atmosphere.

As you and your friends wandered through the festival, each stall and display seemed to offer a new facet of Bronte's culture to explore. The air was thick with the scents of spiced meats and sweet pastries, each stand adorned with vibrant banners that reflected the kingdom's love for bold colors and grand statements.

Here, the influence of Ares, the god of war, was evident in the displays of armor and weapons, not just as tools of conflict but as art forms to be admired. Each piece told a story of battles won and the glory of individual valor.

Callias and his friends pointed out various items, sharing bits of Bronte's history with you. "In Bronte, strength and cunning are more than just traits," Callias explained as you passed a display of intricately carved swords. "They're virtues, celebrated and honed from a young age. It's about rising through the ranks, proving your worth in every aspect of life."

Lysandra chimed in, her voice tinged with a mixture of pride and caution. "But that ambition often comes with a cost. It can drive people to greatness, or to acts of ruthless determination. It's admired, yes, but feared too."

The group's conversation gave you deeper insight into the dual nature of Bronte's values—admirable yet intimidating, a culture where power was both a goal and a gauge of one's worth. This realization made the tales of their heroes, like the puppet show's Calix, resonate more deeply. They were not just stories of adventure; they were reflections of Bronte'very soul.

After a while, the group stopped by a water stand, quenching their thirst and taking a brief respite from the midday sun. The festival air buzzed with life—laughter, chatter, the distant echo of music—but as you wiped the back of your hand against your damp forehead, your gaze drifted past the stalls, catching on something... peculiar.

A stand stood slightly apart from the others, nestled in the shadow of a faded, canvas tent. Unlike the bright Brontean and Ithacan booths—draped in banners, gold accents, and vibrant tapestries—this one was plain, almost rickety, with wooden posts that looked as if they had weathered far too many storms. The cloth of the tent, a once-rich shade now dulled by time and dust, stretched overhead, providing a pool of shade that contrasted sharply with the glaring midday light.

A rickety wooden chair sat in front of the stand, slightly off-center, its legs uneven against the dirt-packed ground, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, creaking softly, though no one sat in it. Yet.

Unlike the other stalls, which called to passersby with boisterous vendors and enticing displays, this one seemed to exist in its own quiet space—an oddity among the grandeur, tucked away yet deliberately placed, as if waiting for the right kind of customer to notice it.

You would have walked right past it if Callias hadn't paused, squinting at the signage that promised insights from the "Mystic Seer of the East." "Hey, Kieran," Callias called out, his tone playful yet curious, "isn't that from the cargo ship that docked this morning? The one with all the unusual crates?"

Kieran hummed thoughtfully, peering at the stand with renewed interest. "Yeah, I think it is. I saw them setting it up early today. Didn't think much of it then, but..." His voice trailed off as he eyed the colorful drapes and the strange, mystical symbols that decorated the booth.

The allure of the unknown was too much to resist. Intrigued, you all approached the stand, drawn by the promise of a different kind of knowledge, perhaps even a glimpse into futures unseen. The psychic's booth, with its mysterious air and out-of-place appearance, offered a break from the cultural exhibitions, a dip into the intriguing world of the mystical and unexplained.

Stepping closer, you felt a mix of excitement and a hint of apprehension—the unknown always carried a thrill, but with it, a shadow of risk. What secrets might the seer reveal, and were you truly prepared to hear them?

Surprisingly, it was Asta who first broke the group's hesitation. "Let's check it out," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. Her suggestion was met with a round of nodding heads, and together you moved closer to the peculiar stand.

As you approached, a soft jingle echoed from within the tent, like wind chimes stirred by a gentle breeze. Then, with a flourish of colorful fabric, a veiled woman stepped from behind the curtains. She was an enigmatic figure, draped in layers of flowing garments that whispered with every movement, adorned with tiny bells and jangles that tinkled melodiously around her wrists and ankles. Her face was obscured by a sheer veil, and her hands—visible as she gestured to you—were intricately tattooed with symbols and patterns that spiraled across her skin, adding to her mystique.

Positioning herself behind the stand, she began to shuffle a deck of cards with a practiced ease, the cards flipping and dancing between her decorated fingers. "Welcome," she intoned, her voice smooth and slightly accented, "I am Eione, keeper of secrets and seer of futures." Her eyes, the only part of her face visible through the veil, sparkled with a challenge as she continued, "Step forward and receive your future, if you dare."

The group exchanged hesitant glances, the air thick with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Then, with a shrug and a grin that bordered on reckless, Kieran stepped forward. Flipping a rickety chair around, he sat down backwards on it, resting his arms over the backrest, and smiled charmingly at Eione. "Hit me with your best shot," he said, his demeanor casual but his eyes alight with intrigue.

Eione paused, her hands stilling over the deck. She studied Kieran for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if measuring his boldness. Then, with a mysterious smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, she drew a card and placed it on the table before him, face up.

The card depicted two figures standing beneath a radiant sun, their hands almost touching, a choice lingering between them. Behind them, a mountain loomed, and above, an angel watched, as if guiding their fate.

"Ah," she said, her voice carrying a note of amusement, "the Lovers Return. It seems an old flame may rekindle for you, young man."

Kieran raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism crossing his features. You noticed him shift slightly, straightening in his chair as he leaned forward to get a better look at the card. The hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth before he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head with a dismissive snort. "Can't wait to see that drama unfold," he said, his tone light but with a curious undertone that betrayed his interest.

He stood up from his chair, brushing off his trousers as he gestured grandly to the others, encouraging someone else to take a turn. Lysandra started to move forward, but Eione raised a hand, stopping her with a soft but firm, "Wait."

Turning her gaze between Lysandra and Asta, Eione's expression grew thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly as if reading something unseen in the air around them. "Both of you, come forward together," she instructed, her voice carrying a note of certainty. "Your futures are deeply intertwined."

The two women exchanged a look, a mixture of excitement and nervousness passing between them before they stepped up to the table as one. Eione shuffled the deck again, her fingers dancing expertly over the cards before she drew two and placed them side by side.

The first card a brilliant sun shining over a child on horseback in a filed of blooming sunflowers, its rays stretching across a clear blue sky—symbolic of happiness and new beginnings. The second card showed a regal woman seated on a lush throne, surrounded by wheat fields and blooming flowers, in a gown adorned with pomegranates representing growth and the deepening of bonds.

"Joy and growth await you both," Eione declared, her voice soft yet resonant in the quiet that had settled around the booth. "Your paths are woven together, reinforcing each other's strength and bringing light to shared endeavors."

Lysandra and Asta looked at each other, smiles slowly spreading across their faces as they absorbed the seer's words. The connection between them, always palpable to those who knew them well, seemed to solidify with the turn of the cards, their hands reaching out to clasp each other's in silent acknowledgment of their shared future.

After Lysandra and Asta had their futures read, their smiles seemed to brighten the space around them. Lysandra, still caught in the high of the moment, turned over her shoulder and called out to Callias, "Your turn, huh?" But he just shook his head, a playful smirk spreading across his face as he declined. "I think I know enough of my future for one day," he said, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

With Callias opting out, Eione's gaze shifted toward you. The intensity of her look made you pause as she asked, "And what about you? Would you like to see what the future holds?" Her voice was smooth, inviting yet somehow imposing.

You hesitated, the weight of the recent revelations about divine influences making you uncertain. But curiosity, and perhaps a desire for some control over the unknown, nudged you forward. You nodded, taking a deep breath, and walked over to sit across from her.

As you settled into the rickety chair, Eione studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to peer into your very soul. She began shuffling the cards, her movements precise and deliberate. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, as if she were seeing something beyond the physical space of the festival. You couldn't help of bein in awe, noticing how her lips moved in silent whispers, adding to the mystique of her craft. 

Then, unexpectedly, her hand faltered.

The cards slipped from her grasp, scattering across the table. Five of them landed face up, splayed in a haphazard arrangement. You leaned forward, your heart pounding as you took in the images on the cards. You weren't sure what they meant, but each of them were richly illustrated, the symbols vivid and ominous.

As you absorbed the powerful imagery, Eione let out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp. Her eyes, previously glazed over as if she were in a trance, sharpened suddenly as they landed on you. Coming out of her daze, her voice grew soft yet carried a weight that drew your ears closer. "I notice the mark of Apollo's favor," she said, her gaze intensifying as she gestured subtly toward you. "It's like a barrier of protection over your fate."

She leaned forward, her hands hovering over the cards as if to gather them but then paused, offering to explain their meanings. "You have much ahead of you," she said, her finger tracing the air above each card as if to underline their importance.

Just as Eione opened her mouth to delve deeper into the explanation, the distant sound of trumpets and the loud announcement of the tournament beginning cut through the atmosphere. The woman sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her features at the interruption.

With a resigned smile, she quickly listed off the meanings of each card, her words concise but laden with significance. "The Hanged Man calls you to let go and view things from a new perspective, The High Priestess urges you to trust your intuition, The Tower warns of necessary upheaval, The Wheel of Fortune reminds you that life is a cycle of ups and downs, and Judgment... Judgment is a calling to rise and rebirth."

Her eyes met yours once more, lingering with something unreadable. "May you find your answers in these," she murmured, her voice laced with quiet knowing, as if she already understood what was coming.

Then, with a graceful rise from her seat, Eione collected the cards with a sweep of her hands, the images disappearing into the deck with an almost magical fluidity. She nodded to you politely before turning and walking back inside her tent, the curtains closing softly behind her.

Left with a mind swirling with the cryptic messages of the tarot and the enigmatic advice of the fortune teller, you sat for a moment, collecting your thoughts. The festival around you buzzed with excitement and noise, but for a brief moment, you were anchored in a sea of introspection, pondering the path laid out before you by the cards.

Callias broke the heavy silence with his characteristic levity. "Is that the kind of mythical shit that happens when I'm not around?" He tutted playfully, shaking his head. "I'm going to have to really stick around if I'm trying to see a god."

Lysandra, Asta, and Kieran reacted with a mix of surprise and concern. "Damn, that was kind of eerie," Lysandra murmured, her eyes wide as she glanced at the tent Eione had disappeared into.

"Did y'all feel that? That was... cryptic," Kieran added, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily.

Asta, noticing your subdued mood, changed the subject to lighten the atmosphere. "Uh, so, are you excited about the tournament?" she asked, her voice bright with curiosity.

You blinked, taken aback. "What tournament?" The question slipped out before you could catch it.

Callias let out an exaggerated sigh and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, helping you up from your seat. "Poor thing, nothing really gets into that head but music, huh?" he teased, leading you away from the fortune teller's stand. "Didn't you hear? They announced a jousting tournament between the two kingdoms."

The group erupted into laughter at his playful jab, and you couldn't help but smile, playfully punching Callias' arm. "You could have just told me instead of making fun," you chided, though the warmth in your voice betrayed your amusement.

"What's the fun in that?" His laughter rang out as he steered the group toward the tournament grounds, the earlier tension dissipating into the festive air filled with anticipation for the upcoming event. The contrast between the mystical encounter and the lively festival atmosphere felt stark, yet somehow fitting as you all moved together towards the new diversion, the promise of excitement drawing you back into the present moment.

A/N: double update!?! ka0chowwwww. but fr, i got a great explanation for leaving you guys for a bit... somehow, I recently lost some of my notes for upcoming chapters and had to re-write the ending from memory... i was trynna be a show-off to my sis show her how long i had the damn thing (since like when epic first caught my eye around 2021 and i was just writing lil headcanons)  and ended up pressing delete part 😭😭😭 the way my heart dropped to my ass was truly an experience. anywho good news, while re-writing it, i got inspired while smoking for a new fic that will be happening immediately after this one, and y'all i'm so hyped frr, might just drop the first chapter to show you guys soon. other than that, hope you guys have been taking care of yourselves, i know real life has been tough for a lot of us lately, but dont give up, we still got shit to do ❤️❤️ we got this babes, see you

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog

[overnightheartbeats]

She only rolled her eyes at his comment, not even worth addressing. Though, the roll of her eyes also communicated her growing annoyance and anger at his lack of a reaction. On the contrary, he was amused? That didn't make any damn sense.

"I don't need to be queen of the university to tell you that you just don't belong. Honestly if you weren't glued to my roommate, I wouldn't even know of your existence. That's how irrelevant you are." It wasn't intentional, her emphasis on my, but she couldn't help it. "Oh, don't act dumb! You know who I'm talking about. Laurel!" Still, as she spoke, she just sounded like a petulant child who wasn't getting her way. And, that really was her right now. Just a child throwing a tantrum. "Unless you already forgot about her," and that, kind of perked her up. Because, if so, maybe she won't have to do all this. "Maybe because you already got what you wanted from her." Laurel hadn't shared anything with her, but she overheard her gushing to her friend. It didn't take much to guess what had happened between them.

"Oh, you didn't say it," humorless laughter followed, flashes of all her classmates going on and on about him filled her mind. "Just everyone else. Like you're god's gift to this stupid fucking place." Laurel raved about him, so did everyone she met. Jenny was sick of it. She completely ignored his quip about Laurel's free will, instead just shaking her head at him. "You're below so much, you're not even close to us," she scoffed at his words. Did he really have such a naive view, just because he didn't come from money? Such a fairytale notion. It's not like Laurel was high up there, not the way Jennys's family was, but she was distinguished enough, she supposed. "I just care about her! In a way you can't understand. I'm here for the real deal, not some college hook up. You're just messing this whole thing up!" Jealousy was not easy to hide.

Her frown deepened at his refusal, a simple no and it had her riled up. "I don't need to ask you for a favor. Just need to get you out of the way, really." Jenny was just talking out of her anger, and had no concrete ideas as to how any of this would work. But, ideas would come soon enough. "No? You're going to regret saying that to me. I'll make her see, just how much of a wrong choice you are. Not worth more time than she has already given you. She's just dazzled by you now, but all things lose their shine. Sooner or later."

Laurel had just finished drying off her hair when she opened his bathroom door. She almost called out to him to ask about dinner ideas when she overheard muffled voices. It didn't make much sense to her, but as she stepped out of his bathroom, the voice became clearer. Jenny? It was her voice, but the things she was saying just didn't match the person she knew. She was quiet as she stepped closer to him, tapping his shoulder to silently ask what was going on? She had heard enough, however. Eli being the wrong for choice was absolutely ridiculous. But, that wasn't what infuriated her. It was the way she was expressing herself about him, and the fact that Eli wasn't saying anything either.

Laurel turned to look at him, confusion washing over her, before she wiggled in between him and the door. Her hair was still damp and a mess when she faced Jenny. Her features were a blend of annoyance and anger, something her roommate was quick to catch on to, because before Laurel even spoke up, Jenny was stuttering and trying to bring in some context to her earlier hateful words. "I...thought you were spending the long weekend at your dad's," she cleared her throat, trying to think of what else to say. "Well, no it's not what you think. I'm just," a nervous giggle fell from Jenny's lips as she tried bringing that sweet side back to the forefront. Harder than it sounded when the object of her sheer hatred stood right next to her. Damp hair, he was shirtless - it didn't take a genius to deduce. "I just, you know that overprotective friend conversation, I owed him that. It's nothing though." The story she was spinning really would only work if he didn't contradict her. And the chances of that happening were slim.

"Save it Jenny. I heard you and I can't stand here and have you spew all of this about him. He is one hundred times better person than you are, and just— you should go. I won't be back, find yourself a new roommate."

Eli chuckled out of amusement, clearly he wasn't even off put by her lame attempt at an insult. "You'd have bigger problems if you couldn't carry your own trash bags." Not that he truly would help her. He had no business with a bully. If he gave her the inch he was sure she'd barge in and make herself at home in his dorm trying to rip him a new one. But, still eyes were on her as she went on.

Surprised eyebrows knitted together as she told him to get lost. "Who died and made you queen of the university, last I checked I belong here. Just because you don't like doesn't mean you get to tell others if they belong or not. Stuck to her? Now, who do you mean?" At this point he was baiting her, he wanted her to be clear since digging her own grave would be her doing not his.

Eli laughed as he shook his head. "I never said I was all that. I'm just a normal human being minding their business. You're the one trying to disrupt that peace." he sighed and rolled his eyes. "It seems to me that you think I'm forcing her to be here. Laurel has got a choice and her own free will. Just because I didn't come from money doesn't mean I'm below you or her. Why do you care so much though is the question?"

"Hmmm that seems more like I'd be doing you the favor and I'm not in the business of doing that for you. So, no." He tried to be cordial given the many insults she had just given him but it was hard standing there taking it. Half of his head turned to see if Laurel had come out yet but also didn't want her hearing this given how much Jenny was talking out of her ass.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

The Devil’s embrace is warmer than fire.

Warning ⚠️; Depiction of PTSD, nightmares, panic attacks, trauma.

Pairing; Nogitsune!Stiles/Male!Creature/Reader

Summary; You meet Stiles at the University as your roommate. A very traumatized roommate that you quickly grew fond of and soon became protective of. And Stiles welcomed your embrace in his nightmarish nights.

Note: I got that idea after seeing a post saying something like “What if Stiles was left with powers after his possession or transformed into a Nogitsune and so Incame up with this!

Credit @cafekitsune

Starting University was a stressful period for anyone, but for someone like you, inhuman? It was worse. Not knowing who would be your roommate or even if you'll be compatible. Your biggest fear was being paired with another creature and fighting for the room. You didn't have the resources to get your own place nor the possibility to explain why you would need to change room.

But you were lucky and ended up with a human.

Stiles was one hell of a phenomenon. Full of energy, extraverts and as bright as a sun, but you saw through his act and quickly realized he was wearing a mask. His eyes, his smiles never reached them and the dark circles under them immediately told you your roommate experienced sleepless nights. And he was so reactive. The simplest sound was enough to make him flinch and tense like a deer caught in headlights. Stiles had been through some bad shits, it was obvious the moment the two of you met. Yet, he was still so welcoming of you and so happy to have a roommate. He spoke of movies and cinemas nights, going out for pizza and beer or even gaming together.

He won your heart just like that.

You thought your years of University would be easy, comforted you were to share your room with a nice guy like Stiles. Someone you could grow close to and call a friend. It would be nice to have someone with who going out and having fun. Someone who wouldn't judge you for what you were.

You were wrong and the first night proved it without a doubt.

You were woken up by the sounds of painful whimpers and hushed begging. You groaned, opening your eyes and searching for the source. In the dim moonlight coming from the window, you saw Stiles trashing around in his beds. All his blankets were in the ground, but he still fought like the devil was after him.

- “Please no… Derek!” Stiles whined and flinched in his sleep.

- “Ow, Stiles, wake up man. You dreaming.” You groaned, burying your face in your pillow as to dim the sounds.

But he didn't wake up.

So you got up and leaned down above him, gripping Stiles’s shoulder and shaking him. He woke up, scared and before you could react, punched you in the face. You fell on your ass, holding your chin, shocked. As for Stiles, you heard him panting and whispering how sorry he was. In his voice, you heard little sobs.

You said nothing, just sat next to him and held him until dawn. Until he finally calmed down.

But each night was the same thing; nightmares and impossible to wake Stiles up without him trying to defend himself. He never spoke about what happened to him and you understood. Who want to share their trauma to anyone? Especially when it was clearly still fresh. But it wasn't long before you learned he had encountered creatures like you and fought them. How in hell was Stiles still alive, you didn't know, didn't ask. How were you supposed to explain he talked in his sleep? How he cowered and begged Derek or others to help?

Stiles was pathetic and you pitied him. No human should have to go through whatever he did and be left alone after.

And as days passed, you began to notice little changes in Stiles. The way he smelled was changing just like the world around him. Things began to happen, chaotic almost like fighting in the corridors, students insulting the teachers and so on. You saw Stiles’ skin becoming paler and he had a harder time feeding. But then, he would get better after touching certain people while helping them.

But the nightmares didn't get better, in the contrary.

So one night, you made a bold move.

As Stiles trashed around, you woke him up by throwing a tennis ball at him to avoid being hit. Poor Stiles screamed and sat, shielding his face with his arms and panting like a dog. It broke your heart. You grew fond of Stiles and became close friends with the eccentric young man. But as Stiles looked at you, you joined him in his bed.

- “H-hey! What are you…” Stiles began, but you shushed him and wrapped your arms around his torso.

As you lay down, you pulled Stiles against your naked chest and shivered as you felt how cold his skin was. Ice cold and he was shivering like a leaf. You pulled the blankets over you two and grunted as you ordered dered him to go back to sleep. Of course, Stiles argued, tried to make it seem like he was fine, but you just wrapped your arms tighter around him. After a few minutes of rent, Stiles relaxed and even snuggled closer. His breath against your neck made you shiver and you closed your eyes.

- “I know what you are.” Stiles whispered, shivering lips brushing against your warm skin.

- “I swear if you are quoting Twilight, I will carry you to the nearest lake and throw you in it.” You groaned, trying to play it off, but your heart raced in your chest.

It wasn't possible, right? You were careful and never let anything show. So how? How could Stiles know and show no fear? Anyone with more than two brain cells would run away from you, not let you hold them like that.

- “It’s fine, I am not scared. I know you won't hurt me and I won't tell anyone.” Stiles added with a sigh. “Not the first one I meet.”

And with that, your roommate fell asleep in your arms, leaving you confused as fuck. You didn't know how to react or what to do. Should you abandon the university and run away? Should things stay the same? You didn't want to go and leave, you had made friends and Stiles had become important to you. You were protective of the little human for reasons unknown, but his admission scared you.

Raising a hand, you brushed Stiles’s hair and smiled weakly as you felt how soft it was. You closed your eyes once more, burying your nose in it. You couldn't leave, couldn't abandon Stiles. So you would stay and see where things went.

And so began a new habit. Each night you would join Stiles in his bed or he would you in yours and you would keep an eye out in case he had a new nightmare. Funny enough, Stiles never had one as long as he was by your side and you didn't know how to feel about that. It was proof he felt safe next to you, but you weren't used to it. You were a monster, something humans usually called the Devil, so why did Stiles feel safe with you?

It didn't make sense, until it did.

Alone in your shared room and bed, Stiles began sharing memories of the past years. You learned who was Derek and his pack and all the adventures Stiles went through. May they be happy or painful, Stiles shared them with you. You were horrified upon learning Stiles was possessed by a Nogitsune. You never met one but knew what they were capable off.

It explained the nightmares.

It explained everything.

Why his scent changed, why everything weird and chaotic happened around Stiles. The Nogitsune had left its traces on your friend, slowly transforming him. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization. Stiles wouldn't be human for long and no one had told him, leaving you to announce the bad new, but how?

To thank Stiles for his trust, you shared with him facts about your nature and answered all his questions. God did he have an endless list of them! His questions kept coming and you even wondered if you had made a mistake, but each time you looked down and saw the twinkle of joy and curiosity in his eyes, you knew you made the right choice.

You softened by his side, for once not feeling disgusted by what you were. Stiles took care of you as much as you took care of him. He helped you study, and was there for you when instinct became too strong and overpowered you. You never hurt him, on the contrary. You grew more protective of Stiles as days and weeks passed and before you realized it, you began seeing him as your mate.

Mate.

A simple word that carried so much weight and duty. Like telling him the truth about his transformation.

It was a hard conversation filled with denial and screaming and tears from both of you. You hated being the one to announce the news and seeing the hurt in Stiles’ eyes. Each tear he shed broke your heart even more. But in the end, Stiles couldn't deny the truth and you promised him it changed nothing between you two. You didn't fear nor was disgusted by him. That night, Stiles cried himself to sleep in your arms.

You didn't say anything about your feelings, didn't act different by fear of breaking the friendship you had with Stiles. You couldn't bear the thought of losing him just because of something out of your control. But Stiles proved to you he was more observant than you ever thought. You came back to your room one day only to find both bed pressed against one another and Stiles sitting there on the phone. He was speaking to his father while taking notes in one of his school books.

- “Of course, I am coming back home for Christmas, but I already told you I wasn't going to be alone.” Stiles said as he rolled his eyes. “I want you to meet my boyfriend. Yeah, boyfriend! I told you years ago, but you said I wasn't gay because of how I dressed!”

Stiles laughed, a soft snort, as his smile grew upon seeing you. He waved his hand, signalling you to come closer. And you did, not in control of your body. You slowly got onto the bed and lay down next to Stiles before his hand fond your hair and stroked it. All tension left your body and you were able to breathe again. You closed your eyes, snuggling closer and wrapping your body around Stiles. You heard him chuckle and he gently scratched your neck, sending little shivers down your spine.

- “What can I say? I found a diamond and I am not going to lose it.” Stiles replied to something his father said. “He’s keeping me safe, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You smiled, face buried against his tight.

He had noticed the way you acted, the way you always put yourself between him and any other creatures you might encounter. You didn't thought he would realize what you were doing, but that was underestimating Stiles.

Your boyfriend…

Such a strange but welcomed realization.

The travel to Beacon Hills, California, was a nice one but you weren’t impatient to do it again. You were growing nervous with each passing hour, not knowing how Stiles’ father would be toward you. You barely heard anything about the man except from the stories Stiles shared and you were conflicted about how to feel toward him. Then there was Derek’s pack. You were going to walk on their territory without warning.

Would they smell how Stiles’ scent had changed?

Naturally, your boyfriend picked on your nervousity and tried to help calm you down. Listening to him rambling about everything and anything was a nice distraction, but a short one.

It wasn't long before your mind turned back toward the future and what could go wrong. An angry pack of werewolves weren't easy to deal with and maybe Stiles wouldn't be enough to keep the peace. Worse, maybe he would get hurt trying to or they would turn against him because of his transformation. But you wouldn't let anything happen to him, never.

All those worries in the end were useless.

Everything went more than fine. Noah Stilinski of course gave you the talk, but it was expected. Not only was he a sheriff, but Stiles was all he had left. It was only natural he would want to protect his son. Besides that, you enjoyed meeting him. He didn't ask questions about your nature, but you knew he knew you weren't human with just the way he had looked you up and down. Maybe he had expected it too. Stiles didn't seem to surround himself with normal people after all.

No, the only rough meeting you had was with Derek and his pack. You had expected it, but it went smoother than you thought. They all gave you threats of course, as if you had the intention of hurting Stiles or breaking his heart. The worse had been Derek and the way he had looked at you, his eyes turning red at some point.

It had been Stiles who had calmed him, but for once he didn't see what you did.

Possession, jealousy… guilt. So many emotions in Derek’s eyes and you knew why. He had his chance,lost it and now you had what he desired but couldn't have.

You had Stiles’ heart.

Knowing it, you felt a sense of pride. You were proud that Stiles had chosen you as his mate, even tho he wascould have found so much better. You stayed close to him, arms wrapped around him knowing damn well what you were doing. Not just putting your scent on him, but showing off. And trying to cover his true scent, wanting to protect your boyfriend’s secret.

Derek caught on it, but not Stiles and your poor boyfriend kept wondering what the fuck was going on.

And the day passed slowly for you, but not for Stiles. You watched as he enjoyed every second of the reunion, as if he was back home. Yet, you could tell something was wrong about the interactions. It was as if Stiles didn't belong among them anymore and you wondered if they had caught on about Stiles. But bless his heart, your mate never realized anything and didn't had his heart broken. And a part of you hoped it was you who was the problem and not Stiles, but every fiber of your body screamed for you to stay close to Stiles, you couldn't leave him alone.

That night, as you laid in bed with Stiles, you tried to be a comforting presence to him. While he was clueless about what was going on, your mate still was worried about what was happening to him. He wasn't fully human anymore and yet not a Nogitsune yet. He was trapped between two natures, two worlds and it scared him. You shared his feelings, but tried to make him feel better.

- “Whatever the future hold, we are going to face it together. I promise.” You swore, face buried in his hair.

Stiles nodded, his face buried against your naked chest while his fingers grabbed onto you for dear life.

- “Maybe it would be better to not come back here… or rarely.” Stiles whispered and you shivered, knowing he was abandoning his home.

- “I will keep you safe, even if its mean fighting your friends.” You replied and Stiles shook his head.

- “I don’t want you too. Besides, I’m going to join the F.B.I, I told you. I won't have time to come back here often, so better start now and let Derek and everyone get use to it.” Stiles sounded determined, but you heard the small hesitation in it.

You wrapped your arms tightly around him and kissed his head, smiling as you saw how courageous he was being. You could imagine the pain the decision put him through, but also understood you couldn't change his mind.

- “And I’ll be by your side every steps you'll take. We’re in it together, forever, no matter what.” You said and you felt Stiles’ smiling against your skin.

It was a promise, an oath and you were going to keep it. You knew the future was going to be complicated and painful, but it was worth it. A life time with Stiles was more than worth it.

[atzluvz]

Through blood and petals

Series masterlist

A/N: As previously stated this is my first ff ! All opinions and feedback is appreciated :)

Pairing : Mafia!San x reader (not written in this chapter though)

Warnings : angst, san gets traumatized, major character death (it all works out in the end tho i promise) , san is in the mafia n highkey a serial killer...

Word count: 1.3K

Series Summary : San let his guard down once, and it cost him everything. Now, he’s built his walls higher than ever.Living with the weight of his past. But when a kind hearted florist enters his life, his carefully guarded world starts to crack. He swears he won’t make the same mistake twice; but some things are impossible to resist.

Chapter 1: No surprises

“A heart that's full up like a landfill. A job that slowly kills you, bruises that won't heal.”

San didn’t really like his career, and not the typical “I hate my job, aarrgghh!!!” kind of complaints. He genuinely despised it. And not that he could back out, oh no. Everyone knew once you joined the mafia, the only way out was in a casket. Maybe that’s why he learned to dissociate during work, leaving all his feelings and emotions behind in his cozy, luxurious penthouse. But what did that make him? A killer without emotions? A machine? No, that’s what made him the perfect asset to the Velvet Dagger Cartel: fast, effective kills with no attachment to his victims. San was there to do his job and make the evidence disappear like it never even happened. Each life he took was like checking off another item on his checklist. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his targets as real people. That was, until he met her.

She was supposed to be like the rest, just another civilian to help expand their territory. But when San got his mission folder, something didn’t sit right. They never gave him undercover roles, let alone for a ridiculous three months. He was supposed to intern at the bakery where she worked, learn her schedule, poison her, and check her off the list. Simple. Clean. Efficient. But for some reason, everything about this felt wrong.

At first it was nothing. Just brief glances as she served pastries with a smile that was too warm for his liking, too much emotion, too much vulnerability. But as the hours merged into days, her laughter echoed in his mind when his shift was long over. How her voice would greet every customer with a level of kindness he doubted existed in this world, it started to tear him down. She was just a mission, nothing more.

But she had this refreshing feeling to her. She was nothing like the cold, calculating people he was used to. She had this aura that made everything feel softer. She’d talk about her dreams of opening a bakery, how she wanted to make the world a little sweeter, one pastry at a time. She shared stories of her childhood, how it was only her and her mom, but they managed. It was bittersuite she said, a loss of something to earn something else. Every detail about her life was wrapped in warmth, like the oven’s heat that surrounded the bakery. And the more San watched her, the more he saw her as something other than a target. She became a person, a real, breathing, beautiful person.

And suddenly it happened. He couldn't tell when the information he was supposed to extract turned into real interest. How he’d linger in the kitchen for too long, asking questions about ingredients or recipes, only to watch how her eyes lit up when she explained. Every smile she gave him felt like a small crack in the cold walls he’d built around himself. Not like she was blind to it, and he knew, they both knew the feeling between them wasn't platonic. Slowly the meetings discussing the bakeries turned into dates at a nearby cafe. And in those moments, san forgot all about his job. He was just … him. And she was just her. The more he fell for her, the harder it was for him to remember his purpose.

So, when the poison arrived, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even after he learnt everything he was supposed to know. The way she would come in at 8:00 every morning and leave at 5:30 with a cinnamon roll in her hand every time, always with a smile. That stupid smile, the one that made him melt. She didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to become yet another name on his stupid list. But the mafia isn't forgiving. They wanted her gone, and so he had to make her disappear. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

San arrived home later than usual that night, the weight of his mission plaguing his mind. He had made up his mind. He would end it. He would walk away. He’d tell her everything, run away with her, leave it all behind. But the moment he walked through the door, the air was thick with something unfamiliar. The faint scent of roses. Her scent.

He froze in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her.Her body was sprawled out in the middle of the living room. Her once vibrant eyes were open but lifeless, staring blankly ahead. A trail of blood pooled beneath her, the color stark against his white rugs. The delicate flowers she’d worn earlier were crushed under her body, petals scattered like remains of a dream that had never had a chance to bloom. She was gone. And it was all his fault.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Trying to memorize every detail, the way her hair framed her face, the soft curve of her lips, the faintest trace of a smile she’d given him just hours before, as if she had known nothing was wrong. But in her delicate hands, the ones that once held him so softly, was a piece of paper. Marked with a dagger. He recognized it all too well. The letters he once placed himself, now in the hands of the love of his life.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He couldn’t bear to face whoever was on the other end. He knew what they wanted. He knew what they would say. But then, it rang again. And this time, he answered it. “Did you think you could walk away, San?” The voice was cold, laced with amusement. “You let us down. We thought you were better than this. But you lowered your guard” he heard a spine chilling chuckle from the other side “ Your just like the rest of us. Disposable.” San’s grip tightened around the phone. His eyes never left her body. “You took her from me,” he said, his voice barely controlled. “You’ll pay for that.”

The rage inside him was a wildfire. He wasn’t the cold, emotionless machine anymore. She had turned him into something different. Something human. Without thinking, he grabbed his gun from the table and left the penthouse. Moving like a predator hunting down its prey. He made his way to the headquarters, each step fueled by the image of her lifeless face, her broken body. He didn’t care how many lives he had to take. He didn’t care who stood in his way. They wouldn't be able to stop him anyway. He cocked his gun before kicking the door in….

The heavy air in the room felt like it was pressing down on him. San stood in the doorway, the faintest tremor in his hand as he wiped a smear of blood from his collar. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sound of his boots scraping the floor as he stepped forward. His gaze swept across the room, lingering on the men who had once called him a brother, now sprawled motionless, their expressions forever frozen.

Chapter 1.5 : Fourth of july OUT NOW!!

[another-goblin]

How come Synesthesia Beacon (SB), a technology distributed and controlled by the Intelligentsia Guild, allows us to understand the language of Amphoreus, a world that has been completely isolated and lost for so long that hardly anybody even heard of its existence?

If only there was a high-ranking member of the Intelligentsia Guild who might have originated from Amphoreus and could have added their language to the system, that would explain it perfectly.

And now I'm going to 'Well actually' my own post a bit, but...

From what I understand, SBs work not by encoding all languages into the database but by linking up people's consciousnesses. There is a reason Elias Salas created two of them as a prototype: because they work in pairs. Both people need a SB to be able to understand each other.

So presumably it's not about the language of Amphoreus being added to the SB database, but about all the people on Amphoreus having the SB implants for some reason, which would be even stranger.

Speaking of which, why didn't we have any language problems on Jarilo? Do they all have the implants installed too for some reason?

And how does it help us read written texts? You can't link consciousness with a stone slab. And remember how we weren't able to read that one different language text on Amphoreus? Probably because it wasn't added to the system.

So I think the writers either forgot or retconned how SBs are supposed to work. Now it looks more like we can understand languages that were added to it.

I mean, SB lore is inconsistent enough already. (The game's wiki mentions 3 contradictory versions of how SB came to be.) So why not change how they work too?

Btw Dan Heng mentioned that both Amphoreus and Jarilo happened to share some "common language" with us, which makes no sense. What language would that be for Dan Heng, the language of Xianzhou? Or whatever language our TB speaks?

But planets in HSR work on a "one planet, one language" basis, and the same Data Bank article mentions at least 6000 existing languages. Isn't it strange that at least 2 planets we visited already share the language with us? Especially considering how drastically languages can change over the millennia of isolation.

I mean, this is how SB is supposed to work: "understand an alien language from the furthest star as if it was your native tongue". Making you think you speak a common language even though you don't. So I don't think it's the same language. It would be silly.

Btw how can we hear Topaz speaking different languages in one of her idles? Why would she even need it, with SB automatically translating everything? And Dr. Ratio speaking Latin too. But maybe hsr's version of Latin is considered a dead language too, so it hasn't been added to the SB system.

[theleavesofwesteros]

love hearts (Loki x F!Reader)

A/N: I'm back already with another oneshot (yay)! This one is shorter and it's a valentine's day one, something fluffy/smutty in honour of me thirsting over loki again (and him being my only valentine this year). anyways, i hope you all enjoy and are doing well!

PS: happy birthday to tom hiddleston! <3

PPS: thank you again to @cafekitsune for the divider and the permission to use it!

AO3 LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62925667

She often wondered how she'd even gotten into this situation. Dating a god wasn't just something that people did. People, human ones, especially. Moreover, dating a god who'd been forced and tortured into trying to destroy New York City was even more of an unusual case. How could she even bring that up to the people in her life? She didn't, actually. She and Loki acted like he was a mortal (much to his amusement) and he simply charmed everyone with a well-timed grin and any possible contradictions about their supposed story were forgotten. However, one bad thing about their romance was how unpredictable his appearances could be. His own habits had to do with that, of course. He liked keeping people (especially her) on their toes. But he was also a royal prince to some kingdom on another planet that she'd not yet seen. He seemed keen not to take her just yet. "Mother would love you," he often insisted, but he didn't say as much about his adoptive father. She didn't think she'd be quite fond of the man either, from what she'd heard. 

Loki had been gone for two weeks now. On Asgard, or maybe even one of the other Realms at this rate. He tried, but communication was somewhat hard to maintain inter-planetarily. She understood, but she missed him. Her life was rather particularly mundane, and especially during the colder months, he was the most exciting thing about her. He always regaled her with stories of his centuries of life, or simply got her to do things she would've never thought to do on her own. 

It was February now, thankfully. After a particularly long January, she found that the second month of the year was going by in a flash. Today of all days, happened to be Valentine's Day, the day of love and friendship. She'd never made a big deal of it, or had big expectations for it, but she'd still opted to wear something of the pink/red variety to work today. She'd gotten in touch with the important people in her life and they'd thanked one another for being in each other's lives. She'd even received a small package of love hearts at work from one of her colleagues (everyone had gotten one). With no warning from her lover, she felt it was safe to assume that his business (whatever it was), had not yet been concluded and that he would not be joining her tonight. She was alright with it. Even if she wasn't, there wasn't much she could very well do about it. 

That's why she found herself making a casual meal for herself, something not too complicated, and then pouring herself a nice drink. It was a day to celebrate, after all, and it had fallen on a Friday, so she felt she could indulge a little and welcome the weekend. Even if she was alone to celebrate it this time, she still had herself, and that was an important person to thank and cherish, indeed. 

What she did not expect, was to hear the telltale woosh of magic, rather, of seiðr, that usually preceded the arrival of someone with a far longer lifespan than hers. She'd just finished washing and putting away the very few dishes she'd used for both the preparation of dinner and the cooking of it, when she turned to see just who had teleported into her apartment. She hoped her guess wasn't wrong. 

And it wasn't. He stood there, waiting for her to set eyes on him. When she did, in his (always) dramatic fashion, he spread his arms wide and grinned with pride at himself. 

"I... am back," Loki said dramatically, nearly waiting for applause. 

She approached him and wrapped her arms around him right away, smiling into his chest. 

"I can see that. Welcome back," She says, her entire demeanor seemingly softening in his presence. 

It was impressive how they did that to one another. 

"... Is that all? No tears of relief at my unexpected return? Darling..." He frowns, placing a hand to his chest. "I'm offended. I might just go back to Asgard for a redo."

She shoots a heatless glare in his direction. "Don't." 

He groans and moves to flop somewhat gracefully onto her couch, long legs spreading nearly automatically and giving her a great view of his thick thighs. She moves her eyes away before he can catch her and tease her for it. He was still dressed in his Asgardian leathers. The ones she loved so much, the ones that were black, with some gold and dark green accents and all those clasps and flaps and added (unecessary) parts. No helmet, though. She moved to him, sitting next to him, her thigh touching his. It earned her a nearly rakish grin, his eyes already glinting with a particular kind of mischief she'd come to recognize (and cherish). 

"I wasn't expecting you back just yet," She says in the comfortable silence. "Did you forget to send a message?"

"No. Did you miss me, love?" He asks, reaching out to place his arm on the back of the couch. He was teasing.

He could touch her so easily, move his big hand just a sliver and touch the back of her neck. But he wouldn't, and they both knew it. She wanted it too much. 

"Of course I did. I always do." She reassures him. 

He hums, considering her words and being seemingly pleased. 

"And... am I wrong in recognizing today as a mortal holiday?"

She falters for a beat, surprised that he considered that to be information worthy of being stored in his mind. 

"I... well, no. It's Valentine's Day, yeah." 

"Mm, as I thought, then. Good." He says, before conjuring up a small, green cloud of seiðr, which left only a rose in its wake. 

She seemed openly surprised at that. He grins and cocks his head. 

"What? Did you want twenty instead, my sweet?"

"No... I just didn't think you'd be back today, and I also didn't think we'd be doing this."

"Doing... this?"

"Yeah, you know... celebrating Valentine's together."

He seems offended at that. 

"And why the Hel not? Have we become lifelong enemies in my short absence? Have we had a falling out?" He gasps dramatically, looking at her with wide eyes. "Have you... found another?" He asks, knowing full well she hasn't. His facade of shock was already faltering, his eyes gleaming with mirth, and his lip twitching ever so slightly. 

She groans, rolling her eyes.

"No, Loki."

"Then... whyever shouldn't we celebrate this, pet? We are a couple, yes? And not a couple of friends, either..."

The final few words he says are lost to her, mind getting caught up in what he calls her. He only really calls her that when he has particular intentions with her. It makes something deep inside of her warm up. 

"We are a couple... of course we are. I just didn't think you'd care."

"Well... my lover is a mortal, and I assume that she cares for such a popular holiday in her world. I am trying to be nice, you know..."

"And I appreciate that... but I didn't expect my immortal boyfriend to even pay attention to what day it is on Midgard, much less make the effort to gift me a rose." She says, resting her cheek on his arm resting on the couch in thanks. 

He turns up his nose slightly at her calling him her boyfriend. He didn't much like that term, least of all for himself. He found that lover was better.

"Well, dearest, I am trying to be romantic. And nice... nicer. For you." He declares, still holding that damned rose. 

She smiles, and takes it, inhaling the scent of it. It was addicting, and so very fresh. Clearly magical. His doing, of course. It was the most perfect flower she'd ever seen. Its red petals smelled fresh, like dew and earth, but also of their expected rose scent. However, there was something disctinct at the end of the scent... a sort of aftertaste. An aftersmell? She practically sighed in relief at the smell of it. Loki grinned, her reaction and thoughts surely being obvious. Most of all to him, with his mind reading powers (that he swore he didn't use on her unless explicitly told to).

"That's ambrosia," He says in that low, soft purr that makes her insides feel all hot and molten. 

"Ambrosia? I thought that was only for gods to have." 

"Mm... in food and drink, yes, I suppose so. But no one said anything about smelling it, hmm? A simple enough enchantment, pet. Now..." His hand finally, finally moves, moving to touch the back of her neck ever so gently. "What is it you smell, hm?"

She focuses on that smell, trying to name it for him (he seemed to be after her answer like a cat after the cream). 

"It's... sort of woodsy.. minty, I guess... and leather-y?" She speaks carefully, naming the scents out with careful consideration, her eyes closed to make sure she is smelling it all properly. 

Her eyes open, and she finds him looking all smug and proud, his hand now rubbing her neck softly. 

"It's you. It smells like you. This isn't ambrosia." 

"Oh..." He purrs proudly, leaning in. "But it is, my love... ambrosia tastes, or smells, like ones favourite things. I suppose that just means..." He moves in further, pressing the lightest kiss she's ever felt to her neck. "One of those things for you... is me,"

Her pulse flutters both at his words and at the touch of his lips to her skin. God, she just wanted to absolutely devour him sometimes. Okay, all of the time. He was all long limbs, and he was lean, but he was also so built. He was strong, and those shoulders... and that ass. And all the other, more salacious parts of him, and all they could and had done to her. 

"I've missed you," She says and she finds herself breathless in his presence. 

"Oh, pet... I've missed you, too..." He grins, his voice getting lower, the last few words nearly a groan. 

"I want you to kiss me..." She whispers.

"I'll kiss you... and then I'll kiss you everywhere... and then I shall lick you everywhere." He vows, pressing a kiss to her jaw, this time. 

She groans, hand moving to brace herself onto one of his biceps. 

"I want you to take me... or I can take you..." She says, unable to stop herself from getting closer, from trying to sit in his lap, from simply trying to make herself one with him. 

He laughs softly, even as he pulls her closer, half of her in his lap by now. 

"We've time enough for both, my heart... the night is yet young, and we've a fortnight to make up for, hm?"

"Plus, it is Valentine's Day." She reminds him softly, pressing the first of her kisses to his neck, and then his sharp jaw, and then those damned sharp cheekbones. 

He moans softly at her attentions, holding her closer by the waist. 

"Oh, yes, it is indeed... the day of love, and lust... we must do our best to celebrate it, yes?"

And celebrate it, they do indeed.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Wrath Fueled By Victory | Satan Victory Card React | Spoilers

ITS BEEN A LONG TIME COMIN' I'm very sorry for the wait ya'll I was suppose to post this literally like before January was over and it's now nearly mid-February 💀

Ya'll know the drill, since this is a NP card, heavily summarized, a few screenshots, the usual.

Though I will tell you...this card was a MAJOR turn around from his Torture card in terms of pacing, writing, his personality shining through and through. And that date story???

Satan wants me to marry him I guess.

Butttt let's get this show on the road~

Summary

So it seems Satan is upset today because the Explosive Sphere event (wth lmaooo) has had so many victories by Gehenna that they are removing it. Like, no one else gets a chance to win because it's biased toward long-range snipers. (okay yah I guess I get that)

And surprise, surprise we get a cameo from the big granddaddy himself, Solomon! It appears that this card starts with a blast from the past, and Solomon's influence is seen in real time. Like he literally just whispers to Satan and he calms down just like that. Levi is even like >:( sit next to me and being semi-clingy and I'm just here like??? Damn that personality didn't transfer over to MC at all sorry 😭

The narration even pointed out that it wasn't that Solomon used overt logic or strength, he was simply just present, had a nice voice, and was just himself. Literally he's just that guy.

It's official, the Calvary Battles replaced the Exploding Sphere event, we're now in the future and things are underway and Satan is hyping up his men to win. Violence is allowed, so it sounds like the devils from each country are just gonna beat each other's asses until someone passes out essentially.

And the story reflects back to Luci's victory card, which honestly that shit was wild as it is. But it's nice to know that these themed cards are connected and therefore...canon lol (at least for whatever's happening, I imagine this is MC's everyday life and how it would be realistically during their time in Hell aside from the things happening in the main story)

It begins, each country planning out their battle strategies! As we see what Gehenna is up to, basically using 6 devils together in an "iron maiden" like formation with bombs attached to themselves (wild...) we have Hades (who sent Foras to spy on the Gehenna devils...) and they are using the 9 Apostles that will come out from 9 coffins, Levi will be wearing rings (sounds similar to the infinity gauntlet lmao who is he thanos?) to show his bond with them so they can work with Hades.

And not only that ya'll, a fly was spying on Hades...and we go over to Abyssos and they plan on hiring Abaddon devils from the Red Light District as mercenaries! (Nabe's idea btw, Stolas apparently just wanted to shoot everyone too the little angry birb) And then, while folks in Abyssos were placing their votes for a bet...there's this one devil that's confident that Abyssos will lose? Turns out....he's a spy for Tartaros 😭 (this is so wild ya'll)

I want to add that Tartaros had a transforming fortrace and they didn't even have plans for a stage 3 and Mammon was like "Ah pay the devil who suggested stage 3 and we'll get right to it" MAMMON PL SSSSSSSS what do you mean you didn't have more than two stages helpppppp.

And now, we're also looking into Paradise Lost, Gamigin wants to participate so badly to show that healer's aren't weak, even offering to turn into a complete dragon or to lend Lucifer his powers? (I bet he can do that tbh) and this entire display of the other nobles treating Gamigin softly about it, has Luci convinced to join in the battles (seems like he was going to not participate just out of choice, since I mean he won the horse races and got his prize already)

Then we get a visitor??? ZAGAN THE BABES <3 He shows up to Paradise Lost to ask the nobles to not participate this time around, only because he's worried that some devil's may actually die this time because MC is the prize. He doesn't want Satan most of all to get hurt, and it really shows us more of Zagan's personality. He went there of his own accord, is worried about his King and others, and is asking for standby help to prevent a possibly tragedy. Love him.

I'll be very brief about the battle, Satan won lmao. And it wasn't like the other's didn't try it's just...even with all the spying and cheating, Satan still came out on top and he did it so flawlessly too.

And the way he grabbed MC as his prize and whisked them away? I love it when it does that. So cocky, so....him. Phewww

So I'mma just say rn, I needed one of Beleth's cigarette's after reading the smut with Satan. Like ya'll we got backshots, for whatever reason MC was describing being fucked like a bitch in heat, but whatever I might as well be cause I'm a sucker for backshots and that's something Satan should like too because it gives him good range to smack that ass.

Also, so commanding, being mad about MC being so cute, saying that he's in charge so there's no reason MC should be ordering him around. MC gave him head, he was throatfucking, and because he had consumed devil's blood beforehand it seems that made him harder, bigger (more swollen), and just more unhinged and hornier than usual.

Bonus: they came at the same time, after ya know he made them cum like 9 times before that

And one thing Satan is always gonna do? Put MC to sleep. Which happened, he was being cute at the end, and MC just passes out. All of this in an alleyway mind you...Satan freaky asf fucking outside with the possibility of getting caught.

Screenshots!!

Okay Levi didn't let me down, he always got something to say...but this time??? All he's doing is affirming my ship delusions again

And damn Grandpa Solo....okay

He really said "make sure you get that ready for me" meaning....your hole MC...he's got a lot of time to make up since the horse racing event

AYO??????

Masked men are my kink so, Amy and I bout to fuck na s t y yyyyyyyy (though this seems dangerous and he can't see out of the damn thing lmao)

lemme suck them titties

Mammon out here got a damn transformer and bringing it to the fight I'm done lmaooooooo

Oh??? But they say he can't turn back into his devil self if he transforms....but me being me....

i'm down for full dragon Gamigin let's go

this sums up how I felt about this particular thing

Someone get this man some oranges to help him calm down lmaooo

Aight PB stop fueling me with arsenal...good arsenal at that because word on the street is....i might have written a little something something during my away time....

He is so boyfriend, I'm crying like??? This face???

"It's starting to hurt..." and he was referring to his dick....my gawd let me grind on it and make it hurt morrrrreeeeeeeeeeee

IDK IM FEELING SO MUCH EMOTION RN

*also to note this position he's sitting in for this card was my favorite and he kept his shoes on idk I was feeling things*

Date Story and Chat Summary!

I think it's funny that Satan pretty much just says outloud that he had good sex with MC and everyone is like :O and MC is like 🙃🙃🙃💀😭 and I'm over here like??? Okay, now I do understand not wanting your business out there, but???? Lol

Paimon thing: He likes shy ppl and certified hoes who open their legs too, so basically ya'll you're his type no matter what I guess💀

So the date ends up being that he takes MC to his private motorcyle repair shop! He's being so domestic and soft here you almost forget he gets angry and prefers to fuck roughly lmao

But also, a big thing we learn is Satan's love language of physical touch. He doesn't say things with words, it's all actions, so you could even say that Acts of Service, is also another love language for him! He really is very affectionate, and I love that so much about him.

But the main point being that he treated this date like how any regular degular human boyfriend would, and I think...that's really what sets him apart from the other devils! He has that sense of "normal humanity" to him when he feels like it and it brings you back to a sense of comfort. Now, I have yet to observe this behavior from the other devils, as I feel it's touch and go from what we get per story, BUT yes...

Btw it seems that Satan really likes bringing up how good the sex is, because he was doing that in the chats and even had a point in time where he was like "yeah it's big again, I'm going to you now." Like my guy literally was like

my dick hard so, i'mma bout to come fuck you <3

While also texting on his bike at that...like? lmao

Fun fact: During the hell events, the seraphim and the angels used to come down to try and take advantage of that but they pretty much got beaten up and when Luci started participating they pretty much stopped showing up altogether

Also, it seems Levi really was upset about losing twice 💀 but strangely enough, Satan doesn't think he's the petty type (I beg to differ, maybe not petty towards you Satan). And he thinks he's a real man even though others call him feminine. This is interesting to bring up though because I'm like...huh yeah Levi's a pretty boy, that's his thing, though I don't think it's a hinderance to anything. that attitude sure fucking is though.

And there we have it folks!!! That's pretty much everything in the card I can sum up for. It's quite obvious my score on this card is....

10/10 let's go

I really did enjoy this card way more than Satan's Torture one. Again, it's mostly because it had the same writing format at Levi's Torture card. A bunch of build up, some lore thrown in, some comedy, and then it leads up to the smut and it's pretty much it from there. Not solely focused on the smut only, it was pretty long, and we get to see the nobles and kings interact once again. Now, sadly since this was a true NP card, that means if you didn't get him this time around, you'll have to wait for them to bring it back in the future. Which I would recommend getting this card if you're a Satan fan! The date story was super cute too.

Now...it's on to Mammon's Victory card which from a quick glance, it was much shorter? Man they never do that devil justice when it comes to creating card content from him majority of the time, BUT I'll see ya there <3

[pieflavorpie]

OK so I have thoughts and feelings and a LOTTA them. Here's my list [which is arbitrary and could change tomorrow in all honesty]

1. Percy.

Taliesin put so much love and attention into this character, that it made Caleb & Nott feel cheap to me for a WHILE. Taliesin literally told Sam how guns were constructed in rather extreme detail meanwhile Sam barely used basic chemistry knowledge & Liam was only using the Keen Mind feat instead of taking notes. I had to sit to myself and remind myself that these people each have their own strengths and weaknesses and research clearly wasn't either of those [which probably why I couldn't get into their characters but oh well].

While I'm not on the "Critical Role has to follow writing techniques" train due to the fact I'm into this because it's an unconventional story. But. Percys arc is ridiculously satisfying. I know he was supposed to die, but the entirety of VM being him learning how to cope with [&live with] the grief of his family and all the mistakes he has made. I've never felt prouder in a fictional character than when he talked to his wife instead of calling in on a Devil's deal and selling his soul again. Breaking his cycle. And then the subsequent "i think I wanted to be a clockmaker once" and him choosing a healthy pathway forward!!! It's so rewarding after we see this man break himself into so many pieces continuously, just to find the point he initially broke. He learns that maybe that doesn't matter.

And then there's the actual personality of Percy. That man is a perfect depiction of darkness and pompousness. Able to take the mick of himself sometimes, and able to communicate. Having the rare issue where it wasn't trust issues with other people, but trust issues with himself. He trusted the people around him so much, and had so many lighthearted moments with seemingly no hint of darkness. And it made his Moments hit harder.

2. Mollymauk/Kingsley

Grouping these 2 together as joint 2nd because I view these 2 as intrinsically linked. I can't bring up why I like Molly without mentioning Lucien/Kingsley, and vice versa. I love the analysis of what makes a distinct soul, I love how open the interpretation of what Kingsley IS is. Is he just the rememnants of a severely traumatised & scrappy Mollymauk after spending too much time as the neosomnovum? Is he a different fragment of Luciens soul? Is he a mixture of different parts of Lucien and Molly? Is it fair to say that as Molly IS a part of Lucien?

And the book, oh gods the book. So many things Tal just randomly blurted out that were wrapped in so well. I will never get over Brevyn's kiss to the forehead. "Long may he reign" being a song the tombtakers sang. "Empty" being repeated due to Lucien's worst fear being puppetted just like his brother.

There is not a week i don't spend contemplating what would've happened if we kept Molly. If something would've happened with the Hag, how Vess Derogna would've acted (if we even met her), how he would've impacted the direction the M9 went, or how he would've reacted to the forced amnesia on Rumblecusp, and the subsequent Thing With The Moonweaver at Traveler Con.

And Kingsley, oh how I want Kingsley to be explored more. His 2 episodes in the specials were GREAT. How he is the guy to Get Shit Done, and how he's so button-pushy. I will never forgive the cast [/lh] for pushing him to the side so much. Having him be the only one not mentioned in the BH finale and only talked about above-table to seemingly reduce what Ashton had just been through. It feels like Tal has to force other characters to bring him up outside of "yeah we tried to bring out dead friend back and It Got Weird."

And they don't have the excuse of him being the pirate king either, cause Veth made it canon that Kingsley helped gather Luc when he ran away up north. He is contactable. Im fairly sure Jester said she was in contact with him [like she is with literally everyone I love that girl so much].

Anyway, also love him being a rogue. Go, buddy, get that self confidence.

And also I personally relate to the way identity was talked about during both eras by both of these characters during different parts of my life.

3. Asha

Honestly would be further up but we did not get enough screentime with her to justify that. There are sooooo many ways to interpret this 1 version of the Wildmother and it has kept me thinking for days about the nature of Nature and change and possibility.

She has convinced me to play a druid for my first campaign, a changeling druid who grapples her identity to the nature around her by covering herself with thorns and brambles. All inspired by how Asha only seems to show 2 strong negative emotions besides hunger. Guilt, for the pain her discovery has brought to her family. And anger at her wife for leaving her to face this mission with a substitute. These emotions are what ultimately anchor her to her mortality.

Nature never really feels guilt for the hunt, or anger at the prey. And yet, to us those emotions are perfectly natural. So in this case, where does the domain of Nature stop? Melora/Asha is the goddess of the Wild, so it's probably safe to assume natural human emotions don't come under her purview. But in the grander scheme, are we natural? As human beings? Are the buildings we roost in natural, as they are made from the dirt and mud that are processes made possible from what we had in Nature? Is being a God with Nature as your domain also make you a God of progress and potential?

And isn't that an incredibly interesting concept.

4. Ashton.

Would've been higher than Asha, if he had had a better finale. It felt like he had narrative progress, with people coming to save him as he died, but he came out without much of a change in mindset since The Shard. He literally martyred himself, intending to die for good and no one really bothered to emotionally check in on that afterwards. If he has finished with his martyr complex, I don't think its done through actual help, it feels like it was done because he's realised that his friends will fight through thick and thin to bring him back. But that doesn't mean anything for someone's mental health in a world like this. It could make people feel trapped, or could make them too reckless with the "I'll be fine my friends will get me if I die." Like No?????

And i love his parallels with Laudna, even outside of his probing. They are both stunted beings, perpetually childish. Laudna because she never got the chance to grow up, being ostracised since before the Briarwoods came up and ruined everything [and then Delilah wouldve purposefully kept it that way for Manipulation Purposes]. Ashton because he never really got to be a child. Laudna coped with her loneliness by making a shit ton of dolls. Ashton had never had a doll until Laudna gave him one. And neither of them really get the community they deserve within the group.

I think the best example of this with Laudna is Swordgate. Marisha said on 4sd that Laudna was upset about Orym using the sword anyway, and then Delilah got into her head. I was also immediately off put by Orym using the sword due to the fact it had killed so many of the Bells Hells and had literally sent Laudna to her own personal hell for an indetermined amount of time for her. A sword does not have to be possessed to be Evil. But it was the fact that noone responded to her actual, valid reasons it was all pretty much the message of "you can't be trusted, this is all Delilahs machinations" like WHAT. Which, mini tangent here, i feel like is why I also prefer VM to BH because it seems like BH had so many completely impossible moral quandries that they seemed to completely dismiss the complexities of their own friends situations after 1 conversation. I feel like they should've had a few more [and I mean only like 2] sessions that was just BH getting to be a mercenary group because for like 100 flat episodes they were Not A Mercenary Group. Maybe getting to explore Marquet a lil more.

Anyway, tangent over. I just think its sad Laudna got dismissed due to her being manipulated and Ashton often got dismissed because of his brash attitude and low Charisma. Before the Solsitice he was continuously getting drunk and even said he'd started shouting at seemingly nothing and no one bothered to explore it. Besides Laudna. Anyway.

Love the concept that Being Broken isn't a wrong thing to say. Most of the time it's all like "oh no don't say that!!! You're wonderful!" But no this guy is just fundamentally and mechanically broken. They are someone who's had to be reformed so many times that some pieces just don't fit anymore, and there's nothing to replace them. And maybe you don't have to be a rock guy who was literally shattered to have that. I personally relate in all those times that I failed tests as a gifted kid that, upon reforming myself afterwards, I lost the piece of me that cared about working. Later, being shattered as I'm told by my college that I'm flagged for undiagnosed ASD and need 25% extra time and loosing that part of me that felt I could trust adults to understand me. But it's not always bad. I felt part of me break away when me and my friends turned 18, and we went out and I realised I didn't have to treat my friends like glass physically. That i could hold them and hug them and they will reciprocate.

And I think where the term "broken" comes into play is when you actively start to grieve those parts. In BH we watch Ashton mourn the ability to trust. Idk. I hope we see more of him in future.

5. Caduceus.

Look, I love Cad, I just also love every other Tal character I've seen. And Cad just narratively and as a complex character comes up that little bit short to me. I love watching his clips. But the rants I did about the others' themes and how they get me to think? I don't get that with Cad so much. I get him, honestly I do. I love him repping the aroaces in that wonderful gossipy way. I love how he only ever silently panics and won't call attention to himself [I only realised how much of myself I saw in him in that moment when they stole a ship and I was like "...oh."]. I love how he canonically did drugs just to try and connect with what felt like a dying connection between him and his God [again something that wasn't really touched on but Holy Shit]. I love how he only apologised for being weak when he asked his Goddess whether his family was OK. He does have depth. Depth that never seems to be taken much deeper than surface level with the Nein and I can honestly only hope that Cad and Kingsley are treating each other well cause they really both need somebody on the outside to Talk To.

I don't actually Know the other 2. So this is it:)

[esamastation]

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 6 [<<Prologue | <Chapter 5 || Chapter 7>>] Ao3 link

-

Tutorial in Age of Tales goes like this:

The main character is woken up by Janelle, who calls him a sleepy head and tells him to get the cart ready, because her daddy wants to go to town. The game teaches the player how to move, climb, jump, and interact with objects there.

The main character drives the cart to Westbrook in a cutscene and gets a chance to explore the town for a moment before Mr. Gylcross concludes his business. It's implied that it's a rare visit for the main character, and he's still new to town. He's given only enough money to buy a few health items maybe, just enough to learn how to interact with shops.

The main character returns to the farm with Mr. Gylcross and there's a time skip to the next day where, after they're done with their various farm-related duties, Josel approaches the main character and says…

"Hey, Van - there's some rabbits in the field again. Do you think you could take care of them?" 

Which then teaches the main character the very basics of combat, specifically long ranged combat, seeing as the beginner weapon for the main character of Age of Tales is a sling. In the game, there's auto aim you can turn on, which helps with long ranged weapons, but they were never a particularly well designed part of the game.

In this sort of real live version of the game…

"How the hell are you supposed to use this damn thing," Van mutters, trying to fit a pebble in the sling and figure out how to spin it in a way that didn't send the rock flying off prematurely.

Unfortunately it's not one of those slingshots with a y-shaped piece of wood and elastic band, no, this is the much older kind with a woven cord and a small pouch in the middle where you put the rock and then spin it around before releasing. Which is, it turns out, pretty tricky to master.

Katie had kind of loved the sling thing, though. It was very historical, she felt. Traditional weapon of commoners. Very cool that they included it in the game. You could even do some real damage with magical ammunition, though it was never as good as just specialising in magic, or even being a ranger. Still, with auto aim it was a cool beginner weapon for ranged combat, and considering that the early fights were all about running away…

It never made much sense for the main character to have it, though, because Van wasn't actually a commoner.

Van tries to spin the sling, and the stone slips out of the nest, landing in front of him with a thud. He grunts, frustrated. "System can't you help me out here? There's the automated chore thing - why isn't this automated? I should know how to do this, right?"

The System opens up his character window, which is not very helpful.

[Farmboy] [Van] [Lvl. 3 Commoner]

[Status:] [Constitution: 10] [Strength: 10] [Dexterity: 1] [Intelligence: 1] [Wisdom: 10] [Charisma: 1] [Luck: 1] [You have 4 unused Stat Points.] [You have 2 unused Skill Point]

"That's not very helpful - wait," Van says and peers at the list of stats. Intelligence is highlighted. "Huh - I need intelligence to figure out how to use a sling? Wait, wait, wait," he pauses, coiling up the sling. "Say I wanted to become a… rogue. I want to sneak around and assassinate my enemies. What would I…?"

The status screen shifts, and it's dexterity that gets highlighted this time. "Huh," Van says again. "Okay, that's actually really good to know." It's nothing he didn't already know - he had played as a rogue before, but still. It's neat that the System is giving him this kind of info. "I didn't need intelligence to use a sling in the game, though. Also, why are chores automated but this isn't? It makes way more sense for me to know how to fight, doesn't it?"

System just highlights intelligence again.

Van really doesn't want to spend any stat points yet, not before he decides what class he's going for - also, who knows what will happen in Westbrook. He might need a sudden burst of charisma to persuade the bad guys not to kill him, or dexterity to avoid being skewered, or any number of things. Intelligence is only good for Wizards, and Katie did not enjoy Wizard build all that much. It was too slow, and the combat didn't quite have the oomph of getting up close and personal with a big sword.

Shaking his head, Van closes the System window and continues working on the sling. He does figure out how to get the stone to stay in the sling, but trying to get it to fly even to the right cardinal direction…

Hm. Maybe he could put one point in intelligence? Just to see what it would do?

… No, he will not be tempted. He'll save the points until he needs them.

At any rate, the rabbits have been dealt with - he might've not hit any of them, but he definitely made enough of a racket to scare them off. Shaking his head, Van puts the sling away, his ammunition pouch five pebbles lighter. Whatever. He's got more important things to figure out right now, anyway.

Like how to make a spear.

-

The tutorial goes on to then try and deepen the main character's relationship with Josel and Janelle - giving the player a chance to eavesdrop on them during a cute moment. Van gets that opportunity too.

While he's doing a little bit of gathering in a copse of trees, figuring out how to get a Wooden Pole as opposed to mere Branches he's been finding, Van happens to spot Josel, picking up flowers out in the meadow just beyond the forest's edge. And then Janelle just so happens to come across Josel, greeting him cheerfully with, "Hey there, Josel - what are you up to?"

"Well, uh, I just, um," Josel stammers, looking between her and the sorry bunch of flowers he's holding. Then he tries to, comically, hide them behind himself, as though they haven't been fully on display already. "It's - it's nothing!"

"Oh?" Janelle asks, instantly mischievous, and skips forward. "It's nothing, is it? What's that behind your back, Josel, what have you got there? Hmm?"

Josel squirms and backs away while she tries to sneak a peek past him and it's very cute until he finally gives up. "It's stupid, I didn't -" he says and then holds the flowers to her. "For you, Miss."

"Oh, for me? Why, thank you, Josel!" Janelle says cheerfully, accepting the flowers with a little bow. "You are most kind, sir. You didn't have to."

"I thought it would - that it would brighten your day," Josel says, flushed bright red all the way down his neck and wringing his hands with embarrassment. "It's nothing, just a bunch of flowers."

"Well, I think it's very sweet," Janelle answers warmly, hugging the flowers and then grinning. "Say, have you ever made a flower crown?"

It's almost unbearably saccharine, the whole thing, but Van can't help but watch, leaning onto a tree trunk and grinning fondly as Janelle gently bullies Josel into learning how to weave flower crowns, before plopping the one she made on Josel's head. The whole thing is so blatantly wholesome that the first time Katie saw the scene, she'd shouted out loud, "Oh, they're definitely going to die!"

Van is half impressed that the developers refrained from including promises about the future and how they'd make flower crowns for each other until the end of their days. Or reminisce about their past as childhood friends, or something. Honestly, Janelle and Josel didn't really have much of a background beyond their roles as cannon fodder for the plot.

Still, it is pretty cute.

Janelle finishes the flower crown Josel can't figure out how to tie properly and puts it on her head, smiling. "There, now we match," she says with satisfaction, making herself comfortable amidst the flowers. "It's been ages since I did something like this."

"You're very good at it," Josel says earnestly.

Janelle laughs, hugging her knees. "Thanks! I used to make wreaths for the Flower Festival, you know - I won the first Prize and everything!" she says and then her smile fades. "We haven't really gone since Momma died. I thought maybe next spring would be different. With you and Van here, Daddy is in much better spirits these days."

"I'm glad we've been able to help," Josel says, adjusting his crown. "If there's anything else I can do to help out, you just let me know."

"Thanks," Janelle says with a chuckle and then looks at him. "Van's not going to stay until the Flower Festival, though, is he? I don't think he's even going to stay over winter."

In the shadows of the trees, Van folds his arms, interested.

"What makes you think that?" Josel asks. "Did he say something?"

"Not really. He's just acting a bit weird, isn't he? Like he's waiting for something," Janelle says and sighs. "I think he's remembering stuff from before."

"He hasn't said anything to me," Josel says, frowning.

"Me neither, but he's all… I don't know," Janelle sighs and looks away. "I just think he's getting ready to leave. It's funny, he's not even been here for that long, but I was kind of hoping he'd stay longer. Daddy's been a lot more active since he appeared, you know? Like with more people around, he has a purpose again."

"Yeah. Mr. Gylcross has seemed more energetic."

"Yeah," Janelle says with a sigh.

Josel looks at her like he's not sure what to do or say. For a moment it looks like he might put an arm around her, before awkwardly refraining. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," the farmhand promises earnestly. "Even if Van leaves, I'll always be here, ready to help you out."

Janelle laughs. "I know I can count on you, Josel," she says and rocks back and forth before rolling up to her feet. "Come on, let's head back - you can help me catch a chicken for dinner."

Van watches them leave, leaning his head against the tree trunk and frowning. He still doesn't feel any particular attachment to these people - it's hard to, really, after Katie had watched them die over and over again in the exact same way. Even the most sympathetic NPCs stop looking like people when you can see their strings being pulled. Even so…

It would be nice if he could save them this time.

Glancing up at the sky, Van tries to gauge how long he has until sundown. Then, shaking his head, he heads back into the forest, to find poles for his spearheads.

He got maybe three hours until the Rift would open and no proper weapon yet.

He really needs to get a move on.

-

And then, the Rift.

In the tutorial, it's not expected of the main character to have a proper weapon when the Rift opens. That's why the farm is littered with low grade farming tools - though they barely had any attack power, they could be used as weapons in a pinch, usually to comedic effect. The whole point of the Rift is to mess up the farm, kill everyone there - except the main character - and send the main character running to town.

Most of that happens in cutscenes, of course. There was no way to stop the Rift from appearing, or close it once it had, and there wasn't meant to be a way to stop the demons coming through, either. You could kill a few of them, maybe, but they kept coming and coming in an endless, steady flood. The whole thing was meant to be a hopeless fight.

Of course, no good set piece survives contact with players, and it took less than a day after Age of Tales launched for people to turn the traumatic Rift event into a mob farm.

For a Gylcross Mob Farm you need at minimum two things, plus a weapon to kill the mobs with. You need one of the carts, parked in a specific location before the Rift opened, and a barrel, set down just a little to the right of it. Because the rift opens right next to the barn, the demons coming through can move only in three directions, and the cart and barrel block two of those, creating a bottleneck. If you do it right, the arrangement cuts down the number of enemies you have to fight to a single one at a time.

And the Rift never stops spewing enemies at you. So, in effect, you can just stand there, for hours, for days, killing imp after imp after imp, just collecting exp. Add to this some better gear and those sweet, sweet Draughts of Memory… and it takes you approximately eight hours and fifty four minutes to boost the player character up to level 100.

Van might not have those potions - but he still intends to take advantage of the Rift's mechanics as much as he can. Without the Draughts it would take literal days to reach the same effect - but right now, he'll settle for ten, twenty levels at least. Just something to get him started properly.

Assuming, of course, that the Rift worked the way it did in the game. If not, well, it still wouldn't hurt to prepare.

"Uh, Van - what are you doing?" Josel asks, watching Van push the cart into place.

"I'm going to clean up the barn. Getting the place set up for the harvest, you know," Van answers, huffing while turning the cart around, aiming to get it just below the window. "Just… getting this… out of the way."

Josel looks at him, at the cart, at the barn, and then scratches at his cheek. "… Okay, you need a hand with that?"

"Sure - grab that barrel in the back, will you?" Van says and then thinks better of it. It wouldn't hurt to over prepare. The game mechanics haven't exactly been on his side so far. "Actually, let's move the other cart first."

In the game once you're done with fighting the Rift, however long you take, the player character escapes in one of the carts that's, mysteriously, ready to go with Bell strapped in and everything. It's very dramatic and convenient, and Katie could even forgive the plothole there - here… here Van doesn't think he can trust the plot holes to be on his side.

Better get the cart in place for easy access.

Josel gives him a weird look at the very precise way Van wants to position the cart once outside, conveniently close to the stables and nowhere near the barricade. The other farmhand says nothing, though, confusedly helping him situate the cart just so that Bell could be easily strapped on in a hurry. Van makes sure all the necessary straps and such go in the cart as well.

The barrels and boxes and other things from inside go to and around the first cart, with Van carefully situating them around to box in the spot where the Rift would be, enclosing the space as much as he can.

By the barn doors, Josel pauses. "Did you make these?" he asks, taking one of the spears Van has lined up against the wall.

The shafts Van had made for them are pretty rough - they're basically just trunks of young oak trees, which had been the only things to register as Wooden Poles to the System. Cleaning them and attaching the spearheads to them had taken some effort, and Van can't say he's particularly confident about his woodcraft skills - but after he'd sharpened the spearheads, the System had approved his craftsmanship by re-designating them as Rough Spear, lvl. 2s, each with 15 Attack power, so Van's satisfied with them. The enemies he's about to face are only lvl. 1, and with his strength stat lvl. 2 weapons would be more than enough to handle them.

"Yeah - just leave them there," Van says, hauling another barrel in place and testing its stability. Yeah, that wouldn't go anywhere. "I'll deal with them."

Josel gives him a rather concerned look but leaves the spear where it is. He goes to pick up the barrel lids sitting in a stack beside the spears instead, but Van tells him to leave them, too.

"I'll need them for something later," Van says, inspecting his Rift barricade, trying to fill in the gaps

"... Okay," Josel says slowly and then shakes his head. "I guess I'll get a broom and start sweeping then…"

Van lets him do it and finishes up his barricade, leaving just the one opening for the imps to get through - the one he'd be covering with a spear. With his mob farm ready, Van brushes his hands together and then heads inside to join Josel in "cleaning".

Another hour or so until sundown, and his preparations are just about ready. Now he just needs to wait.

-

"Van? Van, my boy, are you in here?"

Van, who's sitting on the hayloft just in case he needs to be in a specific position to trigger the Rift, peers down. It's his boss, peeking into the empty barn. "Yes, Mr. Gylcross?"

The farmer looks around the empty barn and then outside at the Rift barricade. "Would you like to explain what's going on here?" he asks, baffled.

Van goes down the ladder. "I just thought of doing a bit of cleaning," he says. "Before the harvest, I mean. I, uh," what would be a good explanation, "I heard some mice or something the other night, and I thought we should close up all the holes before bringing the harvest in. I'll put everything back tomorrow, I promise." Nailed it.

"Mice, hmm? I see," the farmer says, anxiously twiddling with his moustache. "And the - the spears?" he asks worriedly. "What's that about?"

Van looks at the spears and the various barrel and pot lids he'd gathered to serve as shields. "Uh," he says. "A new hobby?"

The farmer looks at him, looking very concerned indeed. "My boy, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Van assures him. "I'm just trying new things, that's all."

"I know about your visit to the tailor - Ms. Arbury sought me out," Mr. Gylcross says slowly. "As I understand you ordered something quite expensive, and she was a tad concerned. Where did you get all that silver from, Van?"

"Uh," Van says. Well that explains how and why Mr. Gylcross knew about the gambeson. "From the inn?"

"Van, surely you didn't just… take it?" Mr. Gylcross says, anxious.

"No, no, nothing like it - I gambled," Van says quickly. "And taught a gambler a trick about how to play Echo better - she paid fifty silver for it."

Mr. Gylcross doesn't look quite convinced, eyeing him with grave concern before turning to look at the spears again. "And - and then spears?" he asks. "What do you need spears and a gambeson for?"

Having no better explanation to give, Van tells him what he told Janelle. "It just… feels like I need them?" he says awkwardly. Hooray for amnesia as a convenient excuse for weird behaviour. "I can't really explain. It's just a… feeling."

That doesn't seem to quite soothe the farmer's mind, though his look of worry turns into something more serious. "You know you can always come to me if you have concerns, right?" the man says earnestly. "If you remember something, if you have issues. I know waking up here the way you did was quite traumatic."

"Um, yeah," Van says, awkward. "Thank you, Mr, Gylcross. I'm grateful that you, um, took me in," he adds, which feels like something the character would say, had this conversation been in the game.

"You looked quite rough, when Janelle found you - like you'd been in a fight," Mr. Gylcross says sadly, shaking his head. "Have you remembered what happened?"

No, though Van knows about it from the game. The player character had been hit over the head with a hammer while trying to escape assassins. Very creative of the developers. "No, I haven't. Sorry, Mr. Gylcross."

"That's quite alright," the farmer says and looks at the spears. "I didn't really expect you to remember much, not after all this time - though it looks like something's getting through anyway," he mutters, considering the weapons. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with having weapons on my homestead, Van."

"Oh. Um. I'll put them away tomorrow, then," Van offers. If Mr. Gylcross still objected to their presence by the morning, he'd be pretty surprised. "You won't have to deal with them, I promise."

"… Very well," Mr. Gylcross says and then gives him a look. "You'll still stay for the harvest, though, won't you? I planted a lot more than I would've without you here - we'll need all the hands we can get, to get the fields harvested in time."

"I won't go anywhere just yet, Mr. Gylcross," Van assures the man, and smiles. "I'll see my job here to the end."

"Good, good," Mr. Gylcross says and clears his throat, looking at the makeshift barricade before peering up at the sky.  "Well, at least it doesn't look like it will rain tonight… I suppose it's fine, this once," he then says, moving to leave. "And you'll put the spears away?"

"I will," Van says - as soon as they wouldn't have any more use, he would. "Have a good night, Mr. Gylcross."

"You too, my boy - sleep well."

Van smiles at the sentiment, nods and then watches as the farmer heads back to the house, making sure the man is inside before going to double check the barricade, just in case. Everything is where he put it, nothing has been moved. Good.

There's maybe another half an hour until the Rift opens.

No one would be sleeping in Gylcross Farm that night.

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Proofread by @nimadge [<<Prologue | <Chapter 5 || Chapter 7>>]

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Cue suspenseful background music...

Gotta say guys, not really seeing point in posting this on tumblr anymore. Might just post on ao3 after this.