#totally do not have brainworms about it

[snailasleep]

very normal about black hair vash (+doodle of oddish vash)

crazy effects thing that happened when i put a filter on

[bugcatcherkit]

anybody else ever start rotating One Extremely Tiny Detail in their mind over and over and over again. And it won't leave. currently that detail is that Every single teddy bear in Minori/Mogami's enclosure is wearing something around its neck except for This Specific One. why is it naked

The fact that they're all wearing something around their necks is already a bit unsettling because of the (probably) Strangulation associations (big thing for many mp100 antagonists, but Specifically and Especially Mogami). And then that one specific bear (and it's the same one both times I think?) has nothing. Front and centre and on purpose. It makes it More Unsettling somehow. Does anyone understand or is it just a me thing

[ghostly-squid]

Time travel fix-it? No. Time travel worse-it.

[talentforlying]

i'm about to run off to class but i've been going positively apeshit about shakespeare for the last three hours so like: what shakespeare play would y'all most associate your muses with?? in terms of story themes, related aesthetics, character arcs/tropes, etc?? or see if i can assign them one that fits if you'd like, idk, i'm vibing

[roobylavender]

(Really long ask ahead i’m sorry!) I think your thoughts on dick and his similarities vs differences to bruce are so interesting! Personally i’m wondering how much of NTT played an influence on this kind of characterization bc i’ve never fully finished ntt but i read like nearly all the pre-80s batman 1940 issues lol and dick very much was portrayed as more idealistic than bruce in some ways while more no-nonsense (? For lack of better word) in other ways, like when it comes to batman easing up a little on selina for romance reasons LOL. Though ofc dick totally turns into - well, a dick - in team books, as i grow older i find myself far more compelled by a potential story of an 18 yr old who seemed to have the whole weight of the world on his shoulders (by his own perception) and breaking under his own impractically strong sense of duty and sky-high expectations for others, then realizing as he grows older that it doesn’t have to be that way esp after seeing the perspectives of characters like kory, wally, joey, roy, etc. Like personally as someone who never really had a huge interest in NTT anyway, i’m surprised at how desperately people want to hold on to the characterization of dick when he was 18-19 and never letting him grow past that, like it’s so difficult for me to believe that at age 25 he would be the same uptight controlling kid that he was at 19. Maybe i’m biased though bc i was like one of those insufferable INTJ internet stereotypes as a teenager, and while that worldview did bring me achievements i’m proud of like the fact that i’m in med school rn studying what i love, i still know that at age 22 i have changed SO much from when i was 18 and i can’t imagine any reasonably mature or normally-functioning person (let alone someone high-functioning like dick) not doing the same lol. Especially since dick is the kind of person who would literally die if he’s not constantly growing and evolving past his faults bc of his insufferable perfectionism, idk how he’d be willfully blind to the negative effects of his worldview in early NTT and refuse to grow from there. He even has a quote that’s like “i’ve spent years as a student of my own behavior” which i always found highly encouraging bc i know he really does want to improve himself even at his worst. It reminds me of that Marcus Aurelius quote: “if someone can prove me wrong and show me my mistake in any thought or action, i shall gladly change. I seek the truth, which never harmed anyone; the harm is to persist in one’s own self-deception and ignorance.” But what are your thoughts? (Thank you for reading all this 🥹)

oh i absolutely agree! i cannot tell you how many times i think about the person i was a couple years ago and who i am now like i cringe so much omg.. maturity is an ever persistent process even if we don't recognize its effects immediately and it absolutely is crazy to think that anyone would remain in such a static state of mind for several years on end. esp when like you said dick is someone who wants to be better! so despite his several hypocrisies it is nonetheless in his best interests to look internally and analyze and evolve. and i feel like that very much could have happened had there been any actual segue between dick's breakup with kory and his re-entry into the batfam. i don't think there was much of a connection between these two sets of writers at all and so what you got is what felt like two very distinct parts of dick's life that didn't necessarily reveal a bridge point. so it's not entirely unrealistic that dick may grow to be the person (at least to some extent) that bat canon portrayed him to be in the years that followed but i certainly think as it stands it felt unearned and like all of his issues explored in ntt were conveniently swept to the side without any semblance of closure (albeit i do think some of these issues are addressed in outsiders '03 but in that dickheaded way that winick explores things generally. so i'm not sure it's the kind of closure people actually want). it's very sad and ig that's what people cling to more than anything. it's not that they're opposed to him growing to be a better person but that they're opposed to a version of dick who feels like he sprung out of nothing

[morninkim]

decided Wren and their world's version of Elle had a kinda toxic romantic/horny fling during that campaign's timeskip - excerpt from the thing i'm writing for it under the cut

(idk if this getting posted anywhere since it is uh. definitely smut. and i don't have anywhere to appropriately and comfortably post that atm. but mostly just using it to practice writing again and i liked this little bit so sharing it hehe)

[secondpersonpoetry]

Franziska Linkerhand, Brigitte Reimann

[dragondawdles]

ok so I feel like I should preemptively apologize because I'm not sure what you had in mind when you expressed interest in seeing/hearing ideas from me on this but it probably wasn't me just taking that and running and ending up with my own draconified rough designs (+notes) for the three of them but uh! I may be a little silly

hi sending this ask as a free pass to draw as many dragons as you want forever

BUT if you want a specific direction may I propose lizzie joel and/or jimmy? :0c

Omg thanks for the free pass, so generous!!

And sure!! I havent had too many amazing ideas for Jim or Joel... other than canary characteristics for Jimmy, obvs, and something swampy and threatening for Joel (because he is a goddamn menace). I imagine Lizzie as some water blorbo because of the sailor skin and her whole thing in Empires that I have only approximate knowledge of. And thats all I got! If you've any ideas I'm very excited to hear/see them 👁

[a-killer-obsession]

OKAY I DID IT, I FIGURED OUT THE LAYOUT

Disclaimer: it seems like the size of the ship changes every time we see it, but the newest eps vs wano seem pretty consistent so I went with that and used Wire's height for scale

Floor layouts under the cut ✂️

Edit: you can find clearer/more detailed versions here

Layout based on the 31 member crew that Oda confirmed. I also took in to account that a significant portion of the members are fucking massive, so everything is bigger which matches the scale it's drawn in. Floors are approx 5m high with 2m wide doors in most places, which makes sense when a good portion of the crew are 3m tall.

Sorry about my handwritting lmao I'm so tired but I have serious brainworms and couldn't sleep

The specifics:

Kid's Floor

Of course he has his own floor

Quarters include his own private dining space which I imagine would also include a workdesk, bedroom with king sized bed and probably a couch, walk in closet, and bathroom definitely large enough for a massive tub

Workshop also has bathroom entrance for when he's feelin lazy

Ladder space in the middle goes straight through, this is so crew going to the castle deck don't access his floor

Commander's floor

Heat, Wire and Killer have their own rooms and a private lounge just for them and Kid

Heat and Wire share a large bathroom, definitely big enough for normal bath

Heat and Killer have king sized beds, Wire's bed is almost as wide as a king but mostly it's made especially long

Small decking that runs the whole way around, unspoken rule that crew aren't allowed there since windows peer into commander's rooms

Killer could probably fit a drumkit in his room 👀

Cannon Deck

We get peeks of this in the anime and in Oda's notes but they're fuzzy so I just did my best

Made a mistake tho, cannon platform should be whole way around back like a U shape to account for 3 cannons facing backwards, total 9 cannons

Theoretically this is where the helm should be so uh that's where I put it

Screenshots make it look like they also store a lot of other weapons here

Main deck

Forecastle includes navigation room with bookcases, central table, and desk for paperwork

Forecastle also has infirmary with two longer than normal beds to account for larger crewmates, and a desk for crew doctor to keep notes

Door between nav and infirmary cos Kid is lazy

Kitchen and pantry. Given the rooms are 5m from floor to ceiling I imagine that pantry would have a small mezzanine accessed by a ladder to take advantage of vertical space (and would be a sick place to nap)

Galley/dining hall contains 3 bench style tables, seating 10 large crewmates each, with one extra fancy chair at the end of one for Kid

Lower deck

Did my best to do some math to figure out how many larger than normal beds were required and decided on 6 bunks for 12 larger crewmates

Additional rooms for average sized crewmates include 4 rooms with 2 bunks each, and one room with 1 bunk, making for a total of 30 beds below deck. That means, counting the commanders for the 31, there are currently 3 empty beds, so a few rooms aren't complete full

Probably looks like fuck all space but its actually significant for a ship living quarters

According to google you only need 1 toilet per 10 people and 1 shower per 40 but that seems like BS. Bathroom has 4 large, accessible sized toilets, 4 showers, long benches down the center and a long counter with plenty of space and mirrors for makeup, given how many crewmates wear it

Also, storage room. Could be converted to extra room for another bunk

Hold

Access via ladder

4 cells. No toilets, you get a bucket ✌️ tbh might not even have beds but there's room for em anyway

Desk in case they need to keep an eye on prisoners

3 storage rooms, but i think one of these would actually be a torture room. Probably the one by the desk.

Mechanisms for power and water are probably in one of these rooms as well as a lot of materials for ship repairs

Also of note

Crows nest is definitely big enough for a bench, definitely big enough for... activities. Not as big as the Sunny's though I dont think a gym would fit, I think it'd be more likely that gym equipment is kept on the cannon deck

Idk if the mizzenmast is supposed to go all the way through but that physically can't happen with where the helm needs to be based on screenshots so ✌️

Crows nests are definitely access via climbing nets

Please absolutely feel free to use this as a reference for fanfictions, but I'd appreciate a shout out if you do 💖

[lisafication]

This post is uh, extremely normal I swear

So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game. 

That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.

That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.

Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.

Content Warnings: …Yes?

(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)

This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.

With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.

She’s excited, are you?

It’s All About Ashley

It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.

But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.

Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.

In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.

Yeah, exactly like that!

And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.

She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing

Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.

While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!

I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.

If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.

This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…

Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.

While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.

We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.

Once Upon A Lousy Life…

THE END

And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!

For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.

We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.

This is her victory, surely?

Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.

But she's still not so sure.

He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.

Look how happy she is!

While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.

I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3

What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…

She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.

This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.

Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!

There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.

Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.

This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.

Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her! 

But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling. 

That was not a joke.

Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

Let me explain.

You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.

The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.

It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw

You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.

You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.

But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?

Ashley wants to investigate the music!

Andrew disapproves…

…Or does he?! 

Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).

This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle! 

But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:

The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.

But, well, is that the case?

You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.

Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?

……

The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.

In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.

She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.

Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.

I adore this phrasing

There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to. 

Andrew, you are like ten years old.

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.

But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.

A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.

It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him. 

Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.

He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.

At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.

----(See reblogs for the second half)

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I apologize in advance, but the brainworms did a heckin screech and I felt the need to share the chaos.

Imagine, if you will, that our Creator let's it slip that they've interacted with other worlds before reaching Teyvat. (Played other video games) Imagine having to explain that in these other worlds, they may or may not have been interested in the denizens of those realms...sometimes in the romantic sense, which led to wedding bells and/or children.

Cue the uproar from the Genshin cast. The Creator, Blessed Maker of All...you have courted others? Have been married?? You have had children??? Their image of you being pure and untouchable, blown apart into tiny little pieces of confetti. 🎉

Though many loathe to admit it, they are curious...who are these people, what are they like? Is there a common factor in your selection of spouses? You would only pick the very best of a realm to choose as a potential partner, surely another being of creation...or perhaps a demigod?

It leads to the proverbial red string board getting made, the Archons trying to find out who is your most likely pick from their regions. It's all for your safety, your Benevolence! If you insist on having a partner, they must find the perfect match for you! You deserve only the best of the best, after all.

Bonus points if the Creator was a fan of games like the Harvest Moon/Rune Factory series. They're gonna need to make a list of all their partners, there are so many options to choose from. >>_>>

I'll admit I never played any of those games so I skimmed through the harvest moon wiki and chose one of the bachelors and chose some other game characters lol. Plus a game for all of you, guess the characters.

Though I do think that the reader having children before causes a bit of whiplash because it's totally unexpected, mostly because there were no records of you taking spouses or kids, even knowing you ‘have’ (play) other worlds is a surprise that causes a bit of a crisis. Either way here are some head cannons.

“I must admit, your grace is awfully attached to Qiqi” Zhongli hums as he blows on his white tea, a small cloud of steam leaving.

Qiqi doesn't pay him much mind, her head coddled under your chin like a little puppy, between her hands there is a small bird plushie “Well, I must admit she does kind of remind me of one of my little ones” Your hand softly pats her head, a few strands of hair moving as you do.

He stills as you spoke, eyes fixated on his cup “your… little ones?”

“Mhm?” Without looking up from the braid you were giving to the little girl you just nod “yep, she is quite soft spoken like Milenoe”

“... I wasn't aware your grace had sired children” there was never any mentions about holy spawns or spouses taken by you in any manuscript he got his hands on.

“Well, I never chose a couple from this world, so there wouldn't be any descendants” the comment slips airly from your lips as Qiqi slides off your lap towards baizhu who had finished checking the books from your bookshelf. “Do you want to see her? She started elementary school a few weeks ago” without waiting for an answer a screen appears displaying a tall man with black hair and horns standing regally behind you and a child with emerald eyes and horns.

“She looks rather shy”

You hum nodding “she is as shy as her father when he was her age. There aren't many children her age she can play with so she was pretty lonely her first 50 years”

“50 years?”

“her dad is a slow maturing species” so it should be 10 times the life expectancy than humans. Not that long for him but certainly longer than usual.

•°•°•

“It's a wonder to see how you manage to get Klee to change her mind about going fish blasting,” albedo scribbles some data half mindedly as he watches you hover next to Klee, who showed you a new drawings every few minutes “she is so stubborn even with Alice”

“Well I do have experience with headstrong children, Pardine is as focused on her goal as her father” one of your hands fall on her blonde hair, bright but still darker than Pardine’s almost champagne blonde and her red eyes polar opposite to her icy ones, a carbon copy to her dad. Even if your genetics rarely showed up on any of your kids it was uncanny how similar she looked to her dad and aunts “but I will admit she does annoy many guards asking to train her”

Albedo just laughs it off, listing the few loose characteristics of one of her spouses. Venti has been annoying him about his nation almost getting no information so he hopes a few spare tidbits and Klee’s rough drawing of a blond blue eyed man with a big shield works for whatever weird thing the archons have going on.

•°•°•

“Your Grace has married before?!” Ayaka gasps as you take a stroll around the nature surrounding her home. Her hand had swiftly unfolded her fan in front of her face.

“Mhm, I don't know why people get so surprised, after all it would be weirder if I spent so much time somewhere but took no lovers” you laugh at her slightly seeing her slightly flustered “it's almost a tradition at this point, to wed someone from each world. Want to see some family portraits?” She nods fervently looking at the tablet like thing that appeared on your hands, first a white haired cowboy like man is kneeling on the ground holding a baby by the armpits surrounded by three wolves ,seemingly playing with an older child, by the time the next imagine passes Ayaka is almost hanging by your shoulder, asking things about the siblings and begging to see more photos of your babies.

“And who did you take from teyvat?” Ayaka looks up sweetly at you, she has always held you in high regard and now that you are in Inazuma she can't help but get giddy thinking about how you decided to spend the stay in her state and most of your time with her.

Feigning surprise you tap your chin with your index finger “now that I think about it I didn't choose anyone yet... maybe it's about time”

“Then that means you could pick my brother!” She wraps her hand around your own, smiling as if she got the best idea ever “I could even call you older sibling!... If you wanted so of course”

“Big brother you remember how you told me you would find me a proper bachelor”

“If this is about wanting me to rush it won't work”

“It's not about it, I found you someone”

“Fine, as you please, need I remind you my standards are quite high”

“It's their grace!... Why are you choking on your tea!?”

•°•°•

“There isn't one damned coincidence…” Raiden slaps her head against the table with the rough drawings and some information about them “a king, a captain, a cowboy, a damned sorcerer…”

“Maybe there isn't supposed to be a coincidence” Nahida guesses “maybe they just look for someone who catches their eye”

“It doesn't help out as much as you think it does” the tsaritsa crosses her legs and leans against the back of the chair “if we are doing people with very clear characteristics maybe Ajax could fit nicely? Redheads aren't very common”

“Mhm, maybe but don't they have a liking for smart men? Then Alhaitham would be closer to their past couples”

“Well if we are going by that logic they should like the geo archon, as one of them has dragonic features” the tsaritsa side eyes Zhongli from the other side of the table.

Sighing deeply Furina, who came in place of Neuvillette, chimes in “It is their decision who they want to marry and even if they wanted to!”

"obviously you would be so calm, after all they are very close with your iudex. Don't get so cocky, I heard the commissioner Ayato is interested in the idea"

[shares-a-vest]

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and – 

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

[nights-at-crystarium]

Hooooo boy ALRIGHT *rubs my hands together*

I'd already committed to making Fragments when I realized that building up a new character (wol/oc) could be done through other characters. Perhaps that's not even needed in some short and simple npc ship story, which this story's grown out of. My ambition's proportionate to your support and encouragement, seeing that people like what I do, I felt more confident to indulge and go deeper, write a proper ShB love letter, as I like to refer to Fragments nowadays.

At the same time I don't wanna overhype something that's never been in the plans. I'm adamant about keeping this story focused, anything that gets more than 1-2 comic panels is relevant to Vivi in some way, hence you won't see, let's say, a detour to uriancred even though I ship them. Try to please everyone, end up pleasing no one. If we at some point asked ourselves "what does this have to do with wolgraha?" that'd mean the story's lost its direction and crawled apart. And, why, yes, wolemet has EVERYTHING to do with wolgraha, glad that I realized it before it was too late!!

That being the logical reason, I also can't force myself to write about those who don't quite make it to my blorbo tier. Alisaie gets a lot of attention, while Alphinaud's just. There. Sorry :'> Still he has reasons to stay out of this, they just don't vibe that well with Vivi.

I may be unable to give equal amount of screentime and thoughtful approach to everyone in the ShB cast, but those who got lucky to be relevant to Vivi AND feed my brainworms will get their due tributes.

There's a risk that you won't unsee this once I point it out: the comic's still in the introduction phase where I shamelessly grab a character to tell something about Vivi. Of course I'm trying to be subtle, I also must respect said character, consider what they would and wouldn't do. ShB has brilliant, masterful characterization that's super easy to work with imo. Everyone feels like a person, you just analyze them a bit, see what makes them tick.

Speaking of real, I just can't imagine them sitting at a dining table in their battle outfits. What the fuck. No. Hence I gave them some casual clothes. I like it when things are grounded, when they make sense. I ask a lot of hows and whys.

On the topic of the Scions (not) being yesmen to the wol: that's simply the whole premise of Fragments, they mix like oil and water with Vivi. The writing process went like: Vivi falls for Exarch. Why not for ARRRaha? He doesn't only like Exarch, he likes the First as a whole. Why? He's happy to leave the Source behind. The Scions belong to the Source. Scions = duty = bad for Vivi. Why duty bad for Vivi? Oh he's just a pathetic piece of shit who wants to be Free. I gave him the archetype of a manic pixie dream boy from the start, then I just overanalyzed what it means for a guy that's supposed to be a selfless nodding hero.

Conflict's more fun to explore than total agreement. Are we there to be entertained, or what? That being said, conflict for the sake of conflict could become just as bland, balance is key as they say.

[cybershock24601]

The Rookanis brainworms got me again bc I’ve gone from wouldn’t it be funny if my Rook and Lucanis crossed paths for a moment before Veilguard and never realized it to formulating a whole au where Rook and Lucanis had a long distance friendship that just started to turn into something more right before Rook gets kicked out of the mourn watch and Lucanis gets stuck in the Ossuary. Rook writes like three letters to try and make extra sure that Lucanis knows what happened and that she’s going to be traveling and likely won’t be able to get any letters but she will write when she’s able to so she’s not super concerned when she doesn’t hear anything from him even if she does have a lot of anxiety about the situation she’s doing her best to bury because sure they’re both busy but surely Lucanis would try to get at least one letter to her, she did tell him that he could always leave a message with Myrna and Vorgoth to pass on, why hasn’t he sent her anything??

Meanwhile Lucanis is imprisoned in the Ossuary and all of Watcher Rook’s babbling about spirits had made it easier to deal with Spite but it’s still a very shitty situation. Spite’s probably even more fixated on Rook in this au because Lucanis wants to get out for a lot of reasons and see his family too but Rook’s probably the only person Lucanis wants to see again that he doesn’t have a lot of complicated emotions about because sure the whole long distance thing isn’t a neat situation, Rook doesn’t come with the same sort of emotional baggage Caterina and Illario have.

Anyways, the events of Veilguard happen and Neve suggests they go recruit the Demon of Vyrantium and Rook’s like sure and hopes that while in Antiva she might get a chance to track down her wayward crow. Rook does not know that the famed Demon of Vyrantium is her crow because it’s not like Lucanis ever really told her exactly who he was in the Crows. Rook knew he was a crow, had a complicated relationship with his grandma and cousin, and that Lucanis tended to play a lot of things close to the chest but seeing as Rook is also from a pretty secretive organization, she was never really that bothered by it because it’s not like she doesn’t have her own secrets to keep. Rook may like Lucanis but it’s not like she’s going to be spilling the secrets of the Necropolis to him and assumes Lucanis is dealing with the same thing which for the most part is true. It’s also that Lucanis liked just being Lucanis with Rook rather than Lucanis Dellamorte, the Demon of Vyrantium and didn’t want things to change with Rook if he told her about what exactly his position in the Crows was. Honestly Rook probably wouldn’t have cared that much beyond hitting him with a ‘that’s rough buddy’ and probably encouraging him to try to say no to his grandmother more. (“Have you tried telling her no? It’s just two letters. One syllable. It shouldn’t be that hard to say!”)

Which is a good thing because when Rook goes to meet with the Crows she’s starting to put the pieces together pretty quickly about who Lucanis is to the crows once she meets the talons + Illario and is doing her best to play it cool. Rook’s attempts at composure are not helped by being hit with the double whammy of her kinda boyfriend is dead no wait actually he’s alive he’s just been in the hands of the Venitori for a year. Which is totally not going to give Rook a guilt complex about the fact that her bf has been presumed dead for year and Rook didn’t even know.

Neve and Harding who came along to recruit their assassin (because this is my au and I can have a four person party if I want) are definitely noticing something is up but don’t get a chance to pump answers out an unusually quiet Rook (a quiet Rook is never a good sign) before they find Lucanis and are witness to the most emotionally charged yet emotionally stunted reunion they’ve ever seen. Neve and Harding are definitely trading glances between them like ‘are you seeing this shit?!’ as Rook and Lucanis have the most awkward reunion ever.

Rook is dealing with a lot of new information at once and a lot of guilt over the fact that she didn’t know her boyfriend was supposedly dead and had just been worried that maybe he didn’t like her anymore and would she ever have even found out what happened to Lucanis if she didn’t need his help to kill some ancient eleven gods? She’s even more guilty about the fact that he’s been trapped and tortured for a whole year and again Rook did not know!

Lucanis on the other hand is increadibly surprised to see Rook of all people in the Ossuary and almost thinks it’s some sort of dream that’s she’s in here rescuing him because how many times has he imagined something like that? He’s also dealing with a Spite who’s extra determined to talk to Rook and also the whole fact that he’s an abomination now and has a lot of feelings about that.

The first exchange between these two lovers goes something like this “you have a beard now. it looks.. nice.” “thank you? I didn’t really have a chance to shave in here” “that makes sense” cue awkward silence. Luckily Neve and Harding are there to get things back on track. Somewhat.

Anyways, the slow burn of the canon rookanis romance becomes two people learning to reconnect and navigate a very complex tangle of emotions after everything that happened in their year apart. Might write a fic about all this but I needed to get my idea out in the world one way or another.

Other au highlights include:

Rook and Lucanis met because Lucanis had to assassinate a mortalitasi and is sneaking in through the garden while Rook is there decompressing after dealing with the asshole and they both freeze. Lucanis is trying to decided whether he has to kill her and Rook just goes “guy you’re looking for is two floors up and three rooms to the right. good luck” Lucanis is like why are helping me to which Rook responds “this is the fourth time in as many weeks I’ve had to come deliver the same letter of censure to this guy for trying to supersede the royal charter and have to take time out of my day to come out here one more time I’m going start biting people. you’d really just be doing a public service getting rid of this guy”

Lucanis is the reason Rook switched to fighting with an arcane orb rather than a more traditional staff and helped her a lot with close quarters combat. He also gifted her a spellblade and was almost surprised that giving someone a knife worked.

The knife also tipped off Caterina that whoever this rando showing up to ask the Crows for help has some connection to Lucanis because of course Caterina would recognize the work of her grandson’s favorite blacksmith.

Illario only found out his cousin was involved with someone after Lucanis “died” and ended up going through his things because sure Illario might have ordered his death but that doesn’t mean he can’t be sad about it. Hidden under the floorboards is a small elegant lockbox filled with letters and a wyvern tooth dagger and Illario had a whole lot of feelings reading them and the slow transition from letters to love letters. Illario doesn’t realize it’s Rook though because Rook wasn’t going by Rook back then and was signing her letters with her government name.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 41 - Lovers

In which the fic finally hits the explicit rating. Partial post on here, I'm afraid!

This is a bad idea. Probably your Worst idea, and that's saying a whole lot. But…

On AO3.

Y’all sail on for a time, on this underground, freshwater sea. Now that it’s done, y’all are safe (there weren’t no more boats on that beach), your body cuts all its strings. You slump down against the wall near the rudder and zone out for a while. Blink and come out of it as the hull scrapes over something.

“Huh?” you say.

You’re in another, smaller cave scooped out the side of the wall. The boat just passes through the mouth. It ain’t gonna hide y’all entire, but you ain’t gonna stick out like the only damn boat on this mill pond of a glass-ass surface, neither.

You reach out to the group chat, a casual swipe and not a request to like, merge. They’re all a lot closer. Most of them are grouped into one spot that feels like a planet tugging you out of orbit to join them.

You’re on the right track, then. The drow are dead. You’re pretty sure that birdshark ain’t gonna burrow through a lakebed.

There’s a small beach in the cave. Astarion has landed y’all onto it.

“We’ll set up camp for now,” he says, and good, you didn’t actually fall asleep and lose the last of your dirt potions.

“You sure?” you say.

“You need rest. And so do I, honestly. I have no idea how people do this all day.”

You smile. Just a little.

Y’all don’t got much to unhaul. Just the bags, his weapons, and the knife he returned to you.

“You wanna teleport down there?” you say, standing on the edge, gripping the rope railing and looking at the water you’ll need to wade through.

Astarion slips his necklace out. You only got a vague sense of a memory: horror and pain and writhing, and then he was suddenly gone. Gone totally, from all your senses, even the brainworm. And when you came out of it, when that spell sloughed off like a dead thing and you looked back, you realized he’d done magic. He’d fucking teleported. And you didn’t think there’s been enough time for him to filter through one of them scrolls?

He runs his thumb down one of the links spilling gemstones down his neckline.

“That was some hot shit,” you say. “And, uh, thank you.”

The man fucking preens. Gives a little bow, complete with a leg sweep. “My pleasure. And it was, wasn’t it?”

“Guess you was right about elves and magic.”

“As if there was a doubt. But to answer your question, no, I don’t think I will. Use it, I mean. It feels rather spent.”

And then he steps off the boat and splashes into the water. You lower yourself to slide down after him. And stagger.

He catches your hand in his. Steadies you.

You have to look away for some reason. “Thanks. You know, again.”

But he doesn’t let go. Just looks at you and your cheeks warm.

Everything that’s happened. All this shit. Part of you is still scraped raw, skin stretched too tight over your bones. It hollows out your insides. Starves you for something. And his hand in yours, something about that trickles into that hollow.

You pull away first. Give a tight smile and a nod, and slosh your way to shore.

There ain’t much camp to set up, neither. Though he does bust out the tent for the first time in a while. He starts securing one side, so you start on the other. But he finishes his portion faster than you, and you feel him standing behind you as you struggle to pull the tether tight enough while also trying to tie it off.

“Allow me,” he says. Kneels next to you.

You been closer than this to him. Hell, his lips have been on your neck, twice. Once when you was between the man’s legs. But there’s something different, now. His solid presence next to you. Strong legs, forearms wired with muscle and sinew. He’s…a man. You don’t normally think of people like that. They’re people, yeah. Coworkers. Friends. Cousins.

Astarion is still Astarion, but he’s also a man and you are suddenly, intensely aware of that for some reason. You feel weirdly empty and you want to lean into him, want—

He finishes up. Turns to you with that smarm-ass smirk. “There. All better.”

Your mouth is too dry. You make yourself nod and stand. Don’t got no provisions but what was in the drow’s bag, and the last time you ate from one of them, you tripped absolute balls.

“Should we start a fire?” you say. Look hopefully at the sand.

“Mmm,” he hums and why in the fuck does that sound shoot straight between your legs. “Best not.”

Y’all stand there, the both of you dripping lake water.

“We should probably change,” you say.

He blinks as if startled. Looks down at himself. “Oh, yes of course.”

Then eyeballs you. Seems to think for a long moment. Because your upper half is dry, but made out of ill-fitted drow armor and a tube top straining for its life not to burst at the seams, and your bottom half is a soaked-through hip wrap.

“I,” he starts. His lips press thin. “I do have a spare tunic. Just one. I haven't’ had the time to mend it, but it may fit you.”

Oh. Huh. That’s perfectly practical. You need to get into dry clothes, obviously. That’s just sensible. And of course it’s his shirt, as you don’t got no spares. It’s all straightforward. Got no reason to make your face fucking burn at the thought of wearing his fucking clothes. It’s for hypothermia, no cause for weird…weird heat flashes.

“Ah, and I do still have a blanket. For…” he waves vaguely at your legs.

Right. His blanket. To use as a skirt.

With no underwear on.

“Sure,” you say. You try to sound airy. You completely fail.

He sort of stands there a moment longer, and then straightens. “Right.”

Ducks into the tent and you listen to him rummage around. When he emerges, he holds a bundle out. Gestures for you to go inside the tent. He also holds his pack.

“Let me know once you’ve finished,” he says. Sets down his things. Starts unlacing and unclasping his own armor. Because he’s going to change out here. Because y’all are gonna be in states of almost-naked with nothing between y’all but a layer of tent canvas (so what’s the difference between a layer of tent and a layer of clothes) (oh no, no ma’am, you are not going there).

You change faster than you ever changed in your whole life. Damn near fling your shit off you and claw the new things back on—the shirt smells vaguely of him, but mostly like something that’s been left in a dresser drawer for a couple of years.

The blanket…

You wrap that sucker twice and tie it off. Consider looping it between your legs and tying that too, but then it looks too much like a fucking diaper and you cannot.

You definitely don’t listen to Astarion changing. Definitely don’t think about the way the air smells of him in here. Or the way it makes your skin feel more sensitive. The way the shirt is baggy along the shoulders and through the chest—you laced it up as tight as you could, but it still dips into a “V” into your cleavage—and the way it brushes over your chest lights up your brain.

This is adrenaline. This is that whole “coming down from a fight” thing you read about. That’s all. Just a chemical reaction. Nothing to it. You’ll calm down and get tired and probably fucking crash, and that’ll be that.

Then Astarion goes and says, “Are you finished, darling?”

The soul jar hangs between your breasts. That is entirely too distracting. You gotta take that off and set it right next to your things (against the back of the tent, away from the opening).

“Yeah,” you say. Keep your voice almost normal and give yourself a mental high five for that victory.

Astarion steps into his own tent. He’s back in his usual camp gear, with them tight pants and the high waist, his floofy shirt tucked in, and the chest unlaced enough you can see the dip of his pecs—

You turn away.

He’s been in the tent with you. He’s been in the tent with you wrapped in nothing but the blanket currently preserving your lower modesty. But he couldn’t see then. It shouldn’t make a difference. You’re more covered now than you was then. But now you gone and kissed him and imagined licking up his neck and you’re wearing his spare shirt.

You set your armor on the side opposite your gear. The ground slopes down, so any runoff shouldn’t soak into nothing else. The hip wrap, you duck outside to fling over the top (thank you Gale for waterproof enchanted tents) to let it drip sadly in the cool air. You hope it dries quick, and you find pants, so you can set the thing on fucking fire.

When you come back inside, Astarion has settled himself criss-cross applesauce at one end of the wooden plank he sleeps on. And there’s nothing for you to fuss with, no more. So you stand there. Like a normal person.

“Do you need a healing potion?” he says. “We have several, now.”

You got some scrapes. Some bruises. A goose egg on the back of your head from when you hit the deck after Bitch Queen mind-whammied you (goddamn, you want something, anything to soothe the scraped-thin feeling).

But Astarion got his ass beat by that shithouse of a drow.

“I’m good,” you say. “What about you? You need blood?”

You’re learning to read him better. Enough to catch the flash of want in his eyes before he smothers it away.

“Are you offering, darling?” There’s something strained about his smile. He’s aiming for his suave, offhand breeziness, you suspect. But something tugs along the edges. Something that thins the air in here.

Beside him sits the bedroll y’all pilfered. There’s enough space you can plonk yourself down opposite him and just be within spitting distance. But though he makes no movement, simply gazes up at you, he seems to take up all the empty space on his side of the tent. His long legs tucked in tight, his narrow hips. The way a tendon shows on his neck as he tilts his head to the side.

Goddamn, it’s warm in here. Are you getting sick?

(You’re not getting sick.)

“Darling,” he says. His voice soft, barely above a whisper. It makes your skin blaze.

You have to look at him. Look him in the eye. It’d be rude not to, huh?

His eyes are different. There’s a…heat, there. One you ain’t seen before.

“Your heart’s racing,” he says. Fucking vampire bullshit he can pick up on that.

You run a hand through your hair. Try to snort. It ain’t no big deal. Y’all’re awkward adults having a hot flash. “Yeah. ‘S warm in here. Maybe I should get some air.”

(You absolutely should not get some air.)

He only regards you a moment. Then lifts a hand, palm out. In that same, soft voice, he says, “Come here.”

You actually, literally gulp. A full on “yikes, Scoob” cartoon swallow. Because…you want to. You want to go to him. Be close to him. Let his proximity soothe the frazzle in you and balm the emotional fuckery all broken and shifting inside your chest.

You want to kiss him. You throb between your legs.

You know these signs in isolation. Have heard others describe them, and have experienced them yourself on your own. Just…never directed at somebody. Never in response to somebody lifting a hand, inviting you.

The tent flap is right there. You rejected him once—and he was a messy bitch about it—but you think he’d let you go. He’s been careful with you since that night, on the forest floor, when you spilled your guts. He’s being careful now. Stays where he is, hand lifted and waiting.

You can leave.

But.

You take a breath. Take a step. Your pulse drowns out all other noise, a hard whooshing in your ears. Your body seems made of warmed molasses. And suddenly, you’re right next to him. Staring at his hand.

And still, he waits. Don’t pressure. Don’t grab you. Don’t even say anything. He lets you stand there and shuffle around like the virginal dork you are.

You slide your hand into his. Hope the blush burning across your skin ain’t as visible as it feels (it is).

His palm is soft. Despite all the knife work, all the archery and picking locks and murder. It’s the first time you’ve touched his bare skin (aside from the fucked up hookup in the woods) that wasn’t running away, fighting somebody, examining a wound, or one of you falling somewhere. It ain’t a survival thing (it feels like one, though).

“It’ll be somewhat difficult to reach you up there, darling,” he says.

Right. Blood. That’s what this is. He needs to feed. You’re flailing around like a weirdo, and the man needs supper.

“How should I, uh,” you say. Intelligently.

His other hand comes up. On his other side. Because that’s where his arm is. So you take that hand in your other one. Which means he tugs you to his front.

You try to breathe. There ain’t enough goddamn air. Did y’all find some kinda low oxygen pocket? You’re only grazing his palm with your fingers, but it feels like what you’d imagine sticking a fork into an electrical socket might be like. Except instead of frying your heart, everything shoots to your groin.

And still, he only looks up at you, face painted in shadows and soft, blue light.

You lower down. One knee on either side, until you straddle his goddamn lap.

“Is this alright?” he says.

It takes an awful lot to do the advanced work of “forming a coherent thought”. You do manage a nod, though.

He lets go of your hands. Your own fall into your lap. You ain’t never had less of an idea of what to do with your own limbs in your entire, corn-husking goddamn life.

Jesus lord, the way he’s looking at you. Different from that night. His eyes a little wider. Somehow warmer. All of it fixed on you and you barely manage not to duck your face to hide.

A touch on your chin. Just under your lower lip.

“May I kiss you?” he says.

Oh hey! You did get that translation right! Ain’t that a fucking treat. Cause if you can focus on that, and not how you can feel your blood pressure spiking in your fucking neck, you might not explode and die.

The whisper of demons past hiss up around your spine to fill your skull. Immodest. Draped over this man and thinking of kissing him? Slut. Whore. Sin.

Shame. SHAME.

All of it clashes together and your hands tremble when you twist your fingers together in your lap.

“Yes,” you say. It comes out a half-broken whisper.

You’re the one who has to lean down, this time. Match the soft tilt of his head and find his lips with your own.

It starts as gentle and chaste as that second time. Hell, you’re just gonna call that your first kiss, fuck it, that one was made with, like, full consent. “Enthusiastic” consent. And if that thought don’t make part of you want to curl up and wither away.

His scent fills your lungs. His touch makes your lips tingle, spreads out over your whole face until the soft exhale through his nose brushes your cheeks and you almost fucking moan.

It ain’t that kissing itself is so…so…this. It’s that it’s him. That y’all are doing this. That you get to touch somebody and feel them and you ain’t never been this close to nobody and your bones rattle together with the effort of not flailing around.

You saw a video one time of a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Scoop was as big as the little dude’s head. He got one taste, went full on feral, and dragged that blob to his face.

It’s that same feeling that brings your fingers up to curl into the frills of his shirt. He’s gotta feel that, because he makes a whole ass sound against your lips and that damn near sets your hair on fire. Then his tongue flicks out, brushes carefully over your upper lip.

You don’t even think. You want. You open your mouth.

He must’a swigged water at some point. You catch hints of metal on his tongue, clinging to the inside of his mouth, but also, like, him. You’re tasting him.

This time, you cannot stop the tiny noise that escapes you.

He pulls back at that. His eyes look darker, and it takes you a second to realize that’s cause his pupils is blown right out. He looks like a cat that wants to bite you.

Instead, he comes back in. But not at your mouth. Plants a peck on the corner of your lips and then moves down. To the underside of your jaw. Places cool, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and you gasp and arch in his lap. You can’t help it.

Oh god, you ain’t never made yourself feel like that.

More, more. The selfish gremlin part of you crawls outta the cave in your head, chanting and shrieking.

“Astarion,” you say. You ain’t sure what should come after that.

He hums against your skin and his arms come up to wrap around you. Draw you against him. Your legs is splayed wide, with only his blanket to cover you. You’re wide open above that.

He kisses down, down. Traces his tongue along your collarbone and damn, you could cut glass with your nipples right now. He pauses at the neckline of your tunic. The one that dips low. Looks up at you, and the man is lost in the sauce.

“May I?” he says.

Rest on AO3 to avoid any ban hammer.

[mad-hare]

Of all things I accidentally gave myself car brainworms. Related to my search for a new car, hatred of how modern cars have screens and no dials. Also Ontario’s roads are becoming MORE deadly instead of less and the government is blaming screens as a likely cause.

My first enemy I have already accepted was the push to start button. The sensation of using a key to start an engine is so unique and we’ve lost that in most cars now. Another enemy I really want to refuse to accept is dials or buttons for changing gear instead of an old fashioned stick. Of course there are modern luxuries like how my car would warn me if I turned on a blinker to change lane and there was someone in my blind spot (which I always was aware of because I do check myself but the extra security was nice). Not a big fan of when cars try to keep themselves within a lane without my permission because they’re not totally great at deciding what a road line is all the time. Like beep at me and let ME decide if we’re proceeding the way I am planning or not, don’t shove me over.

Anyway my hatred of technology led me to the “how hard could it be to restore a classic car” path and caring about aesthetics I decided to look up how hard could it be to repaint a car. Turns out it’s like, over 50 sanding steps, no exaggeration. The comments were lovely.