#why yes I replayed the entire game just to see if I could declare one of the NPC's the grandpa of one of my bhaalspawn

[tarisbackyard]

Finally got around to playing Heart of Winter, after uhhh... twenty years of me first playing Icewind Dale? For some reason I just always skipped this one during every playthrough.

[darling-archeron]

this is as good a place to fall as any + feysand for the fic request thing? angst would be good (;

ask and you shall receive - i hope you like angst. I may have used this as personal catharsis and it came out as one of the rawest, and, in my opinion, most painful things I’ve ever written. Not super edited, but I hope you enjoy!  <333.

TW for minor mentions of suicide

Music in the Night

It was the end of another infinitely long day, and Feyre found herself on the roof of the townhouse. The same place she had spent lazy nights with Rhysand, curled up with the stars until dawn. They had once promised each other infinite nights like this, filled with love and whispered secrets and lazy touches.

This time, she was alone.

She had gone out into Velaris by herself today, walked the streets, and been with her people in a way that she hadn’t in years. It had left her bone-weary deep in her soul. After the war, when what was left of her family returned to Velaris, she had been too broken by her grief to mingle with her people. The only thing she was aware of was the emptiness of the void in her head where such life had once flowed. The funeral had been hell, numbness coating her mind and tongue when the priestess asked if she would say a few words.

After she had finally picked herself up, convinced herself to keep going, there was so much to be done. Simply going for a walk never seemed to make the list. Mor had kept Velaris running for years, but she didn’t rule the entire court. And Feyre had never run anything of the sort. It wasn’t long after he was gone that she realized how much Rhys had left to teach her, how much he had not known himself. It had been exhausting as she turned all her energy on fixing the Court instead of looking inward at the dark shards within herself.

 Learn as best as she could from Mor and Lucien what it took to rule, to heal rifts with the Hewn City, who barely recognized her as High Lady, and to Illyria, who only began to respect her once she showed what she was capable of. When they had time, she did physical training with Cassian. Continuing to explore the facets of her magic had been harder. The two beings who might have taught her something more about it were gone.

So for the most part, she gave herself over to her court. They deserved that much. It was nights like these when she allowed herself self-pitying, angry, sorrowful moments. Just her, the night sky, and a bottle of whiskey she had swiped from Rhys’s huge stash. The roof seemed as good a place to fall as any. To ask the Cauldron why so much of the good in her life had been taken. To ask why she always seemed to end up alone.

Because Rhys…Rhys had been taken from her. She had loved him with a passion and fury she knew had been called foolish. But the only foolish thing about their love was how she hadn’t seen the end coming, hadn’t realized that he would sacrifice everything he had to heal the cleaved Cauldron. And when Rhys was truly gone, and even trying to bring him back as he had done to her hadn’t worked – she didn’t reflect on those moments. Ever.

She had survived poverty, Amarantha, and being made, the Ouroboros, and the War. She had been born a fighter.

It hadn’t stopped her from reaching for a knife to turn on herself on that battlefield, in moments when everyone else was too distracted. Azriel had only just stopped her, and there were days she could still feel the sharp kiss of the blade on her chest.

Most of the time – most of the time she was glad she hadn’t done it.

A breeze came up, and Feyre shivered. The backs of her thighs were beginning to dig into the roof.

In the emptiness of the weeks that had followed, she found that she hated silence. Because there was never again going to be passed jokes and musings down that bridge of gold. Never again going to be music sent to her in her darkest moments.

The townhouse became emptier as well.

 Amren had sacrificed herself to end the war. Elain had eventually left Night to pursue a life of travel, slowly healing from the horrors she had witnessed. Lucien was building alliances on the continent, though only after he had been convinced that she wasn’t going to fall apart. Nesta…was complicated. She still lived in Velaris, off of accounts Feyre kept filled, but she barely saw her sister anymore. Feyre wasn’t sure which one of them was more broken, some days.

Mor needed out of Velaris too. Feyre knew she was losing her mind. Though no physical wards kept her here as they once had, she couldn’t abandon the duty she had. Because she didn’t think Feyre was strong enough.

Feyre still doubted herself every step of the way. Because in the end, she did blame herself. She had made a bad choice with what mattered the most, hadn’t seen that his final “I love you” was not a declaration, but a goodbye.

He had known what she would want to believe, apparently known her better than she had known him.

She had always been a fool for a happy ending. Had always wanted it for herself. Her mate had helped her believe that she deserved it until she saw it herself. She had been a dreamer in a Court of Dreams.

Feyre watched the city below, taking a swig of the whiskey. There was a revel in the streets a few blocks away, the beautiful, seductive music taking away the emptiness that lingered in her head.

The Night Court needed a strong leader. They deserved someone who dreamt of a better world, who wasn’t falling apart. And as much as she was unqualified, she knew she had to learn. And as much as she had wanted to let the world fall away as she descended into her grief – she had made a vow. To Rhysand, to her people, to herself. To deny that – it would make her an utter failure.

So, she had forced herself to become that person, and learn to lead, to play the games of Court. To heal wounds the war had ripped open. A leader with an iron heart and mask of steel.  

The one thing she couldn’t learn again was how to forgive. She couldn’t forgive Tamlin, or Hybern, or herself. No matter how much Mor and Elain beseeched her. Elain had dragged her to the same mind-healer that she had been seeing in Dawn. Not a daemati – but someone who focused on emotional and psychological wellness. After a few visits, she had stopped going.

She needed closure, Elain had told her. It was easy for her to say. Every inch of this place didn’t remind her of their father. How could you find closure when the wound was ripped open again every day?

Another swig of whiskey and the music grew louder. A sob hiccupped in her throat, and she pushed it down. She wasn’t drunk enough to stop caring yet, and if she started crying now she would never stop.

She wondered how the history books would be written, sometimes. Human and Fae alike. Would the fae praise how she had defeated Amarantha, or as time went on, would the ballads and stories be edited and brushed under the rug to hide how helpless the faeries had really been? Would they tell how she fought her way across that bloody plain, each swing of her sword for a better world?

Would the elegies they painted eulogize Rhysand properly?

Would they tell how she had let him die?

She shook her head violently, strands of hair shaking free from the tight braid she had pulled it back into. She had cut it to shoulder length a few weeks after the war – practically a cliché from one of the books she had read. Since then, she had never let it grow back out.

She wouldn’t let herself think of all she hadn’t done now. She had done that enough – days where nightmares tore her from sleep and she replayed those minutes on the battlefield over and over, trying to find a different way.

 Instead, she thought back to what that healer had told her at the Dawn Court. She had given Feyre breathing exercises she couldn’t remember now, and she had told her that it was okay to talk about them. It had all seemed so useless at the time.

Elain had found catharsis in it, though. She didn’t just talk about their father – she talked to him, she had confided.

Another swig of whiskey – longer, this time. It burned as it went down, and it made her buzzed enough to say what the hell.

“Rhys?” She whispered, so softly. She had never – never spoken to him like this. Screaming his name as she was torn from his arms in every last nightmare, yes. But this - she had always thought it would hurt too much.

“I hope that you’re happy, Rhys.” She knew that he thought he was Lord of Nightmares, that wherever he went after he died wouldn’t be pleasant. It was something she had been working to slowly changed his mind about, making him see that he wasn’t damned.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t stop you – didn’t realize until it was too late. I didn’t find any other way. I know – I know that you wouldn’t have had it any other way. That you didn’t want to stop me. But I’m so sorry and I will never stop regretting and hating myself for it –” Her words broke off with a sob as she finally let the tears come. “And if you can somehow hear this – I just need you to know that I will never stop loving you. And I’m trying my best to fill the void you left behind, to be the leader everyone needs me to be.” For a while, the only sound was her breathing and the distant music as her words were swallowed up by the night.

She sniffed a little. “Do you remember our last night up here? It was just a few days before we left. Did you know you wouldn’t be back?” Another long pause, like she was giving him time to reply. “I’m sure even then you were planning. But I just remember – we were up here, it was a night a lot like this. No wine or lingerie – it was just us, the stars, and the city. I fell asleep up here, in your arms. You told me stories of your adventures years ago. The time you and Azriel got lost in Malwich and – well, I never heard the end of it. I was so exhausted. Do you think Az would tell it to me if I asked him?”   

Silence echoed as the distant song wound down.

“I miss you.” She said quieter than ever, barely a breath. “You spent your last breaths telling me that you loved me…and I never said it back. Because I thought I would have a million more times to say it, and so you never heard it that final time even though I’m sure you knew –“ Snot plugged up her nose and she sniffed again, voice ugly and cracking. “I love you, Rhysand.”

She buried her head in her arms as the music slowly started up again. It slowly grew louder until she could make out a familiar tune.

Feyre could have laughed. It wasn’t the music Rhysand had sent her Under the Mountain. It was an echo of it, an answer to the original piece’s question. The haunting melody and drifting notes filled her head and her soul. They chased out the awful silence and made her feel new, if only for a moment.

She recalled back when she was human, laying in her cell as that music floated down. She had drifted somewhere in the clouds, seen faces she couldn’t make out. Just as it had been then – as she gazed out at the unclouded sky, she could have sworn she saw Rhysand peering back at her with love in his eyes – for just a moment.

Perhaps just a trick of her eyes, of a desperate soul. But as she gazed up at those bright stars, she didn’t stop the tears from falling.

I love you, Rhys. 

She stayed out there long after the music had died down until she could see a hint of dawn’s rosy hue rising over the Sidra. The memory of the song echoed in her head, keeping the silence at bay.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Bagginshield Bingo- Arranged Marriage

Sorry about not getting this in yesterday! I had a shit Monday at work, but a much better Tuesday and I could not get this one to end! I legitimately want to turn this into a full length fic, but I already have so many WIPs...

Still taking asks for this. Feel free to make a request because it’s now very apparent which bingo I’m going for. Please enjoy!

Title: Trapped by Blue Eyes

Summary: Bilbo thought it was his chance to be an ambassador to one of the greatest kingdoms in Middle Earth. He should have known it was a ruse and run while he could. However, a dwarf prince’s plea and beautiful blue eyes trap him in what will be an insane adventure in marriage.

When Bilbo had been asked to represent the Shire in Erebor, this wasn’t at all what he had in mind. Dreams of being an ambassador in the wealthiest and most influential kingdom in all of Middle Earth was quickly dashed by the reality of the situation. He was presented as a suitor for their prince along with twenty other representatives. Bilbo still didn’t know if his grandfather knew ahead of time and didn’t tell him, or if he had been deceived the same as Bilbo. That the Shire mattered enough to this eastern dwarf kingdom to encourage trade between their lands. Either way, he had been made the fool.

He stood at attention amongst willowy elves, strong dwarves, and youthful men. Males and females amongst all their races as he remained the lone hobbit. It was a jest. He stood no chance of winning the affections of a prince. He was merely there for the propriety of not excluding a member of the free race. It was a waste of his time, and he was certain, a waste of the prince’s time. Yet, he remained in line waiting until his name was called to enter the conference room and present his candidacy. He hoped he would at least have time to tour the mountain before they threw him out.

“Bilbo Baggins, Grandson of Thain Gerontius Took of the Shire.” The herald announced.

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as he stepped forward. The white haired advisor who had been leading the others in one at a time raised an eyebrow at Bilbo.

“A hobbit? How unusual.”

Bilbo crossed his arms behind his back as he held his head high.

“I believe there is quite a bit about this situation I would label unusual, but I am not one of them.” He answered coolly.

The dwarf’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was a twinkle to them showing he was not offended by Bilbo’s retort. Which was good news for Bilbo. He had a bad habit of letting his mouth run away from him.

“Right this way, Master Baggins.” The dwarf instructed bowing, rather unnecessarily, before him. “The prince may ask you a few questions. Just answer honestly. This is not a game of politics, just a dwarf looking for his match.”

“Yes, of course.” Bilbo answered brusquely as he tugged at his best receiving jacket.

The burgundy clashed beautifully against the pea green of his waistcoat with it’s golden embroidered vines. His grandma Laura used to tell him all the time that it was his best outfit for highlighting the Baggins brown in his hair and eyes. While desirable in the Shire, he knew it made him look a bit plain elsewhere in the world. Perfect for getting an eccentric prince to pass over him as husband material.

It was a mere few paces before Bilbo got his first good look at his potential husband to be, and it was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. The dwarf before him stood regal and proud with his flowing ebony locks flashing with silver beads and crown. His nose was straight and small when compared with other dwarves Bilbo had met, but his eyes. It was as if Aule captured the sky above and pinned it into those fathomless depths.

“Bilbo Baggins, grandson of Thain Gerontius Took, may I present Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Prince of Erebor.” The older dwarf introduced.

Bilbo blundered through a bow, almost forgetting it entirely in his stupor. Thorin approached him, an appraising hand on his chin as he circled Bilbo. The hobbit was taken aback by the blunt sizing up, but he held his silence as he awaited the prince’s verdict.

“Tell me, Master Baggins, why should I pick you as my husband?”

Sweet Yavanna, his voice was just as sinful as his eyes.

“I’m sorry?” He tried to clarify, his tongue feeling clumsy.

Thorin looked seconds away from rolling his eyes as he retook his place in front of Bilbo with his arms crossed.

“I’m asking, what could the Shire offer Erebor out of this union? Flowers?” He mocked.

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed as heat rose from his chest to pool in his cheeks. He cleared his throat as he fought to maintain control of his voice. Clearly, his earlier musings at the dwarf’s beauty was merely surface deep.

“I did not come prepared to make any negotiations on behalf of my homeland, Your Highness.”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed as his chin jutted high. “So you came merely to take advantage of Ereborian hospitality.”

“I came on behalf of my Thain after being summoned by your king!” Bilbo snapped, unable to reign himself in any longer.

“Be careful how you speak, Hobbit!” Thorin growled.

“I do apologize, Your Highness, and I certainly mean no disrespect to your grandfather,” Bilbo continued, unable to stop the growing tirade. “But this entire farce has been the epitome of wasted time. What can the Shire do for you? How about bellies full of good food because it is clear to me, there isn’t rich farmland for miles! The better question is what can Erebor do for us? You may be rich in gold, but we have no need for it out west. I had hoped to at least get a good story out of this venture, but you have done a decent job of dashing that hope! Now we both have known from the moment I walked in that you weren’t going to pick me, so let’s end this with our dignities still mostly intact.”

Bilbo finished with a nod as he tugged on his jacket hem once with finality. It was only then he was aware of Thorin’s raised eyebrow and slack-jawed expression. The advisor looked similar gobsmacked, and Bilbo found himself embarrassed for an entirely new reason now.

“Yes, well, thank you for your time, Your Highness.” Bilbo mumbled, fumbling through another bow.

Neither dwarf reacted, and Bilbo awkwardly excused himself from the room. Bilbo kept his head down as he passed the entrance where the rest of Thorin’s potential suitors still stood, hurrying back to the guest halls. He’s had quite enough of dwarven kingdoms, and he figured he was about to be thrown out on his bum. He only wished Gandalf was still around to escort him back home. Oh well, he would wait for him in Dale if he had to, but by Eru’s will, he was leaving Erebor tonight!

Once back in his room, Bilbo had to lean against the stone door to fight the jelly sensation traveling up his legs. Did he really just yell at a prince? It didn’t matter how they chose to look at his grandfather’s position, he certainly did not hold enough power and influence in the world to be able to get away with that. His need became that much greater, and he swiftly threw his belongings in his pack. A few wrinkles here and there was a sacrifice he was willing to make to stay clear of the dungeons.

He had just finished tying the drawstrings when there was a knock on his door. He froze debating on whether or not he should answer. He could fake his absence, but the guards standing in the corridor would know he had not vacated. Cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck as there was another knock. He twisted his hands around each other as he slowly crossed the room and answered with shaking nerves.

“Good evening, Master Baggins.” The advisor from before greeted with a bow.

“Master Dwarf.” Bilbo nodded in return. “Before you say anything…”

“Balin.” The dwarf interrupted with a wide grin.

“Pardon?” Bilbo sighed.

“Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.” He introduced. “Might I borrow a moment of your time?”

Bilbo looked around him, more than a little surprised it was only the older dwarf outside his room.

“I’m afraid our Prince is not with me.” He explained, trying to guess Bilbo’s thoughts.

“No, no! I didn’t think...please, come in.” Bilbo stepped aside wondering how many ways he could look like an idiot that day.

“Is the room not to your liking?” Balin questioned upon entering.

“It’s quite comfortable.” Bilbo reassured.

“I only asked because you packed up as if you were hoping to transfer quarters?”

His nose twitched under the older dwarf’s knowing stare.

“Yes, about that…”

“I thought you handled yourself well today.”

Bilbo’s head gave a light thrum as the conversation continued to twist in circles.

“You...do.” Bilbo concluded dryly.

“Yes, the bluntness of a dwarf, but still retaining an air of manners. Fine qualities when looking for a consort.”

Bilbo replayed that last line over in his head a few times with a sickening realization.

“Master Dwarf…” Bilbo began once he found his voice.

“Balin.” The other reminded him gently.

“Master Balin,” Bilbo started again. “Prince Thorin isn’t putting serious consideration in the idea of...me? Right?”

The soft smile and the twinkling gaze was far from reassuring.

“Our prince would like to extend the invitation of dinner tonight to make amends for your first meeting.”

“Why?” Bilbo asked in morbid curiosity.

“He feels you may have gotten the wrong impression…”

“Master Balin.” Bilbo interrupted him this time. “You know clearly what I meant.”

Balin nodded his head, his grin still wide as if pleased with Bilbo’s wit.

“Ask Thorin. Tonight. We will send a runner when it’s time. Please, let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable.” Balin declared giving a final nod to Bilbo’s packed bag.

With that, Bilbo was left alone, and a thought that hadn’t quite occurred to him before seeped into his very being, filling him with dread. That damned, arrogant dwarf was actually about to pick him. And for what reason? Spite? Furthermore, if that was the case, he would be stuck here in Erebor. Never again to see his Shire, his beloved Bag End. What started off as a high-spirited adventure to distant lands was quickly morphing into a bleak, stony prison. 

His gaze wandered to his pack. How far could he make it before he was caught? Would they even bother or would Thorin just move onto the next suitor in line? The temptation was only subdued by his duty to the Shire. It would reflect poorly if he left without giving the dwarf a second chance. Besides, surely, there was no law that would force him to marry? He heaved a heavy sigh as he unpacked his next best outfit for dinner.

***

By the time the runner came for him, Bilbo had smoked two pipefulls of Old Toby, changed his clothing three times, and marked a path in the fireplace rug from his pacing. For once in his life, Bilbo’s stomach rejected the mere idea of food, and his desire to run was all but reality. Still, his sensibilities and courage took hold, leading him down the hall after the servant, and into the most gorgeous dining room Bilbo had ever seen.

The table was long and stone like most dwarven furniture, but there was a solid gold inseam that ran like a stripe straight down the middle. Lavish tapestries and weaponry decorated the walls, and right in the center was a massive chandeleur that Bilbo was willing to bet was made with real diamonds. It caught the candles within, and bounced the light a hundred different ways making the room practically sunlit in spite of the hour.

Thorin, himself, was dressed in deep blue and dark furs, contrasting against the fireplace at his back at the head of the table. Even without his crown, there could be no doubt that he was a prince, hell a king in his element. The dwarf rose to meet him, and the palpable tension that he carried earlier was gone. His guard was still up though, and Bilbo found that just made him even more unreadable. The prince nodded his head mere paces from him.

“Master Baggins.” He greeted evenly.

“Your Highness.” Bilbo returned with probably his most natural bow of the day.

Thorin reached out his hand, and Bilbo hesitantly gave his expecting a handshake only for his ears to burn when Thorin’s lips grazed his knuckles. He was staring at Bilbo now, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as his mouth open and closed a few times as if unable to decide on his words.

“Your...vest...thing is very nice. It highlights your...feet.”

That was quite easily the strangest compliment Bilbo had ever received. He had to glance down to make sure there wasn’t something wrong with his appearance.

“Thank you?” He finally offered.

Thorin nodded again, a little relief bleeding into his countenance. He swept his hand out indicating a place setting next to Thorin’s own. Bilbo moved towards his seat, pausing as Thorin pulled out his chair for him. His gaze settled on the empty plate before him as he struggled to make sense of the prince’s change in behavior. A silence pressed on them both as Bilbo tried to find a polite way to ask after his purpose in being there.

“So…” They both started at the same time.

“No, please you first.” Bilbo insisted.

“Please, go ahead.” Thorin offered at the same time.

They gave an awkward chuckle before Thorin decided to speak again.

“How are you finding Erebor?” 

“The mountain is very lovely.” Bilbo answered stiffly. “I must confess, I haven’t had much time to explore.”

“That...is a shame. I will have to give you a tour soon.” Thorin mumbled in response.

“I would hate to impose, Your Highness.” Bilbo politely declined.

Thorin looked a little crestfallen, and Bilbo found it tugged at his chest in a way he didn’t understand.

“But if you did, where would you take me? What are your favorite aspects of your kingdom?” Bilbo blurted.

Thorin blinked in surprise before a small, but genuine, smile spread across his face. Bilbo’s throat felt clogged and he was thankful when the servants brought out their first course to hide his burning face behind a spoonful of soup.

“These are all things that wouldn’t be on an official tour.” Thorin explained with a smirk. “But I love to walk deep into the diamond mines with nothing but torchlight and watch the room glitter like stars in the sky. I love being near the forges with the sweltering heat and the pounding of hammers on the anvils. But my favorite place is the ravens’ roost. There is a spot up there where you can see for miles, and it feels like all of Middle Earth is before you.”

Bilbo felt himself smile, enthralled by Thorin’s passion for his home. He paused for a moment, just soaking in the images described to him that were so different from his home, but somehow just as beautiful. 

“What about the Shire, Master Baggins? Tell me about your own home.”

Bilbo clumsily began to talk about the rolling green hills, the sun-kissed summers, the gardens and farms, and an evening smoke filled with a field of fireflies. Things he was certain held no interest to a dwarven prince, but if Thorin was bored by his narration, he never showed it. After that, their conversation seemed to be a little easier, if not still polite and distant. They were closing out the evening when Bilbo finally had to ask.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, why me?”

Thorin blinked before his expression slowly closed off once more.

“You were the strongest candidate that I felt I could have a...relationship with.” Thorin explained, his words practiced even as he stumbled over the word relationship.

Bilbo felt ice drop into his stomach. Even after what he considered a lovely evening, this was all still a ruse. A political maneuver of some kind.

“Prince Thorin,” He barked, as surprised as Thorin by the hard edge to his words. “If I may be frank, I came here tonight with no intention of staying in Erebor through the night. I will be leaving for the Shire, unless you can give me a real reason to stay.”

Thorin’s hands tightened into fists, and for a brief moment Bilbo feared Thorin would order his guards to lock him in his room. His expression pinched, and he released a breath through his nose as the tension slid out of him once more.

“I hate it when Balin is right. He told me you would not be idly swayed, but I chose to ignore him.” Thorin mumbled more to himself than to Bilbo.

Bilbo narrowed his gaze. “Sorry, I was not stupid enough to be tricked.”

“No!” Thorin gasped. “I...it’s just…”

A hand rubbed down his face, and Bilbo found he looked far older and more tired than his initial impression. A sympathetic tug at his heart held him to remain and hear Thorin out. The prince stood up and led the way to a different doorway than where Bilbo entered.

“We can’t talk here.” Thorin explained when Bilbo merely stared at him in confusion.

Heaving his own sigh, Bilbo got up and followed the dwarf through the new passage. It wasn’t long before Bilbo was completely lost on how he would find his rooms from here. Maybe that was Thorin’s plan to keep him here. He would be a prisoner of the mountain, lost in its labyrinth. They finally reached Thorin’s destination, and Bilbo entered after the prince. He was a little confused as to the nature of this room. It opened into a sitting room with expensive furniture and what appeared to be a personal armory. However, there were several doorways that branched out, and peeking down one Bilbo caught a glance of what appeared to be a bedroom.

“Where are we?” He asked curiously.

Thorin had immediately gone to the liquor cabinet in the corner and poured them both a drink.

“These are my chambers.” He answered.

Bilbo jumped and took a step backwards. He was torn on how he should feel: outrage at the dwarf’s presumptions, indignant at being tricked into the prince’s bed, or the small part of him that wanted to be just a little exhilarated at the fact that Thorin chose him.

“Now see here!” Bilbo began.

Thorin rolled his eyes as he interrupted what was about to be an impressive tirade on Bilbo’s part. “Peace! I merely wanted to speak away from prying ears and eyes.”

Bilbo’s jaw clicked shut. Thorin invited him to sit on the settee, and it was with stilted movements that Bilbo perched himself on the edge of the seat. He took the glass offered to him, but made no move to drink. Thorin on the other hand threw back the strong brew in one gulp glaring down in the empty glassware. The air was heavy as Bilbo waited for Thorin to give his reasons before he threw the drink in his face and marched out. 

“My grandfather is unwell.” Thorin whispered.

Bilbo almost wasn’t certain he heard him correctly at first until Thorin pinned him with a desperate and intimidating glare.

“Your grandfather...I don’t understand. Does he need a healer?” Bilbo finally asked.

Thorin snorted staring off to the right with a dark look.

“It’s not a physical illness, but one of the mind.”

Bilbo nodded, still relatively unsure what this had to do with anything.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about how to help with that.” Bilbo finally stated.

Thorin gave a mirthless laugh, his eyes softening some when he looked back at Bilbo.

“I shouldn’t think so, Master Baggins. None do. He has been consumed with his riches, Dragon Sickness, they call it. My only hope now is to soften the effects of his rule until I can inherit the throne. My father and I were ruling Erebor together behind the scenes until his…passing.”

“Please, don’t think me uncaring, Your Highness. But what exactly does this have to do with me?” Bilbo sighed.

Thorin was silent for another long moment, and Bilbo was afraid he had overstepped when Thorin spoke once more.

“I love my grandfather. I mean, I want to love my grandfather, I loved him once long ago. But he has become...cruel and careless, and I fear for Erebor. I have sent my sister Dis to live with her husband and sons in Ered Luin years ago because I don’t know how he will react to having more heirs.”

“Surely, not his great-grandsons.” Bilbo tried to protest, but Thorin’s somber look stopped him.

“The war I fought in that earned me the title Oakenshield, I was supposed to perish along with my father and brother.”

Bilbo’s heart clenched as his hands tightened around his glass. These were secrets he shouldn’t be hearing. There was no way he, a simple hobbit of the Shire, was to know of royal family plots and shame.

“Thorin...why don’t you leave? Go to your sister and nephews!” Bilbo cried aghast.

It was the first time he had spoken so casually to the prince, and yet neither of them noticed. The dark haired dwarf’s gaze was so sad, and yet filled with a firm strength Bilbo couldn’t help but admire.

“Erebor is my home. Besides, I worry for its people if I were not here to protect them.” He explained. “No, once Balin and I learned the...truth. No matter how hard it was to swallow, we had to come up with a plan that would make me look less...threatening in my grandfather’s eyes. I fear he thinks I want to take his throne from him by force, and I dare not dwell on what measures he is cooking up to remedy it.”

Bilbo forced himself to swallow against the pain that threatened to overtake his chest. To live in fear of one’s own grandfather...he couldn’t even imagine. He certainly disagreed with his own quite often and was frequently annoyed by him, but he has never feared the Old Took.

“So if I were to appear as a fool in love…” Thorin purposely hid his gaze from Bilbo. “Especially with someone below my station with no hope of giving me heirs…”

At his pointed gaze, everything suddenly fell into stark clarity. Thorin intended to use him as a shield against his grandfather’s paranoia. It made perfect sense. Hobbits had no desire for gems and riches. A simple, country male who managed to snare the heart of the heir to the most powerful kingdom in all of Arda. It was so brilliant, and yet he felt sick to the very pit of his stomach. He numbly set down his untouched drink as he stood and stepped away towards the fire. His hands were antsy, and he had a strong desire for his pipe. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Bilbo demanded spinning around. “Are you trying to blackmail me into going along with this deranged plan?”

“You asked!” Thorin snapped, jumping to his feet as well.

“Stop treating me like an idiot!” Bilbo snapped, fury written in his every nerve. “I’m done with the half-truths. You brought me into this, why?!”

Thorin was a puppet with his strings cut. This, whatever it was, it was clear this was not Thorin’s game. From what Bilbo knew before meeting him, he was a leader, a warrior, a hero. He wasn’t a politician or spy, he wasn’t one for mind games, and it seemed as if Bilbo’s words stripped him of that leaving him bare.

“Because I need your help. I didn’t expect you to be...you.” He explained gesturing to Bilbo. “A head of wit and a spine of mithril, but after you spoke to me in the conference room, Balin and I both realized you were exactly what people would expect out of a consort. It would...sell easier, especially considering you’re not...a dwarf.”

Bilbo wanted to stomp his foot, burst into tears right there, and pull out his hair. Never in his wildest imaginations did he expect he was being summoned for something like this. A fake marriage to make a mad king take his heir less seriously in terms of succession all because he was a qualified candidate.

“Please.” Bilbo turned to Thorin fully only moments from falling to his knees in a plea. “You must know that this is insane.”

However, it was only after he said it that he knew Thorin did. He didn’t even have to look into the haunted blue eyes before him. This insanity was Thorin’s everyday life.

“Dwarven engagements are notoriously long. No one would bat an eye if it was two or three years before we married. With your Shire being months away, we could even drag out the process. In the meantime, those loyal to me will be working on a solution. It’s possible you wouldn’t have to marry me at all.”

Bilbo’s eyes fell to his feet. “What if I don’t want this?” He asked hoarsely.

Thorin sighed as he hesitantly put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“I understand. I won’t hold you here, I just ask for your...discretion.”

Bilbo nodded numbly refusing to let himself be taken by Thorin’s broken voice.

“I need time to think.” He finally told him. “I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”

Thorin nodded before leading him back to Bilbo’s room. Bilbo didn’t mind the silence this time, although he felt anyone looking at the two would think they were heading to an execution rather than two wayward lovers. There’s no way this would work. As Bilbo tossed and turned through the night, he was certain he would be telling Thorin no upon dawn’s arrival and running for the Shire.

However, all it took was one look into Thorin’s hopeful blue eyes, and a ‘yes’ fell from his lips. For one small moment, the shine of gratitude and relief made it worth it. It was like Thorin said. They had years to consider an alternative solution. In the meantime, Bilbo would play the happy in-love consort to be. Thorin barely gave Bilbo a moment to grasp what he had signed up for before he was taking him to meet the king.

Thorin and Balin did a good job of building some fairy tale worthy story of love at first sight and other such nonsense as Bilbo fought to keep from squirming under Thror’s dark, cold glare. When they finished the king gave a mocking smile, and when he spoke, Bilbo’s world toppled out from underneath him.

“Why wait? If it’s true love, I say we get started with the wedding planning now. Thorin and...Master Baggins will be wed by the end of the month.”

[fantasyoverreality98]

Desire

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC

Book: The Royal Romance

Prompt: day 04: mistakes for @choicesmonthlychallenge

Summary: Riley confesses her feelings to Drake.

Author’s Note: I started this a while ago, but the prompt helped me to figure out an ending and motivated me to finish it, so here we go! Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read, like, etc. (you know the drill) you guys motivate me to keep going!

Word Count: 2,600

-----

Ballroom music swelled, and Riley tried her best to focus on Liam.

This was why she was here. She was competing to win the prince.

But no matter how hard she tried, she kept glancing at the corner of the room. Her eyes locked with a pair of dark brown ones, and she saw Drake tense from across the room. He looked away and she felt her heart ache.

Do you think all of this…do you think it could’ve been different…between us?

It would’ve been different.

“Are you enjoying the ball, Lady Riley?” Liam’s warm breath caressed her ear, and she closed her eyes, imagining that she was in another person’s arms.

Riley nodded. “It’s lovely.”

The music ended, and the two of them parted ways. Drake was standing outside on the balcony, looking to the maze beyond the palace.

“Nice evening, huh?” Riley leaned against the doors, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted to cross over to him more than anything.

Body tense, Drake turned to face her. “What are you doing?”

She frowned, taking a step closer. “What, I’m not allowed to talk to you now?”

“Brooks, you know that—” His attention shifted to behind her, and Drake took a step even further back, turning away with a sigh. “Go back inside. I’m sure Liam will want to spend more time with you.”

Riley took a step forward, her heels clicking on the stone. She began to reach out, but stopped, her hand hovering inches away from Drake’s shoulder. “Drake—”

He refused to look at her. “Just go back inside, Brooks.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, Riley considered staying. But she knew that there were too many people around. And once they caught on to the fact that the two of them were friends, that she wanted to be more than friends…

It would be game over.

Without a word, she twirled on her heels and walked back into the ballroom. Liam found her in an instant, leaning down to whisper in her ear that they should go somewhere for a bit. She followed him. She always did.

They fell into a familiar pattern, and Riley tried her best to forget about how much she wished that she was with someone else.

“I’ve been waiting to get away all night,” Liam mumbled, his lips brushing against her neck. He pulled back to look at her face, the excitement reflected in his brown eyes feeling like a knife through her heart.

Riley ran her hands through his hair, peering over his shoulder to see if anyone would come looking for them. Silence. They were alone. She sighed, letting Liam lead her further away from the ball.

This was the way things were meant to be. It was the way they must be.

---

Riley lay awake in her bed long after the ball had ended. She snorted quietly, staring up at the extravagant canopy. The closest she’d ever come to a bed like this back in New York had been when her parents decided to go for the nice hotel during one of their rare trips when she was a teenager. And even still, the mattress had somehow managed to keep her awake the entire trip.

The brief exchange with Drake kept replaying through her head, stuck in a constant loop. And then she thought of Liam, of his hands all over her, believing that they were the only two that mattered in those stolen moments. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against her eyelids.

What was she doing?

Spending her nights thinking of Drake Walker, of Liam’s best friend, would never help her win. Riley was here for Liam. Liam. And he clearly had feelings for her.

Yet, she often found herself wandering to fantasies of the commoner. Someone like her. Someone who could understand how out of place it felt to be at these grand balls, to try their best not to curse in front of a noble when the only appropriate word that came to mind was shit or asshole.

Her guilt increased with every stolen glance in Drake’s direction. It wasn’t that Liam didn’t appeal to her at all, because how could she deny that life as a queen would far outweigh an ordinary life? But that had never been on her mind. When the group of four men came to the bar she worked at, she would’ve never guessed that one of them would be a prince. Not just a prince, but the future king.

Someone as sweet as Liam deserved better than her. He deserved someone who felt the same. If it were up to her, Riley would withdraw from the competition immediately. She would storm into Drake’s room right now and confess that she had feelings for him.

The only thing that kept Riley from making that grave mistake was the disappointment she could imagine receiving from Bertrand. Right now, it wasn’t just her own reputation at stake. If she followed her heart, if she gave in to her desires, if she abandoned all courtly etiquette that she already failed miserably at…House Beaumont would suffer. She could never be that selfish.

Shadows passed under her door, the dim light in the hallway enough for her to see that someone stood outside. Riley sat up, holding her breath. With a shaky inhale, she stood from the bed and crept across the room. She put her hand against the sturdy wooden door. The figure on the other side breathed steadily.

“Drake?” Her voice boomed in the silence.

Whoever stood on the other side of the door startled, and she watched the shadows withdraw. All Riley glimpsed when she threw the door open was a figure disappearing around the corner. No one else made any noise in the palace. Guards often patrolled the halls, but there didn’t seem to be any here right now.

Riley stepped into the hall, chewing on her bottom lip. It was foolish. It was completely irrational and stupid, but she found herself walking through the palace toward Drake’s room.

Just once. All she needed was to experience a moment with him just once, and then she would focus all her attention on Liam. No matter how much it might break her heart.

The door swung open before she reached it, and Drake looked down at her.

Neither of them said a word as they stared at each other. Riley could see that he was trying his best not to step closer. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, Drake reached out to touch her face.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he ran his fingers over her cheek, cupping her face in his hands. When mere inches separated their lips, a loud bang came from somewhere down another hallway.

Drake jolted, opening his mouth to say something, before he shook his head and quickly retreated into his room, slamming his door shut. Riley stood in shock for several moments. It wasn’t until she saw movement in the corner of her eye that she hurried down the hallways back to her room, closing her door with a quiet gasp.

Footsteps passed outside her room a minute later. With a sigh, Riley leaned against her bedroom door and slowly slid to the floor. She rested her forehead on her knees and thought back to the time in Lythikos when she’d chosen to follow Drake out into the snowstorm. That had been the first time he truly opened up to her. It had also been the moment she knew with certainty that he was the one she really wanted. She liked him.

Liam had caught her attention in New York, mainly because he possessed a great amount of charisma. But every moment after that night she had focused her attention on Drake. Whenever they found themselves in a room together, Riley couldn’t help but direct her gaze in the direction of the man who chose to wear denim to royal balls.

There was just something about Drake that caught Riley’s eye. His grumpy exterior often cracked, and she could see the true person behind the reserved front. Thoughts about how things could be if they’d met under different circumstances lingered in Riley’s head all night.

When sunlight streamed into her room, she was still sitting on the floor, thinking about Drake. The pressure of winning Liam’s affection weighed down heavy on her shoulders.

“Riley? You awake?” Maxwell’s voice was muffled through the door as he knocked. “I can hear you!”

She sighed, slowly rising to her feet. “Yes, I’m awake, Maxwell.” For a moment, she caught sight of her reflection in a mirror, and winced. It was not a pretty sight.

Maxwell pushed his way into the room, behaving like his usual cheerful self. He talked to her, but Riley had a hard time listening. She spent most of the day stuck in a daydream.

When night came around again, she was surprised to finally have nothing to do. Liam came knocking, asking for a date, but she declined, ready to spend the next few hours staring at her ceiling.

Until another knock pulled her from her thoughts.

“Who is it?” Riley called out, ready to send who she assumed was Maxwell away.

“It’s me.”

She shot up in her bed, fumbling for a proper outfit. “One second!”

Drake. It was Drake.

What was he doing here?

After scrambling around for a minute, Riley stumbled across the room to her door. She threw it open, the smallest part of her hoping that this would be the moment when he declared his love for her.

“Do you want to go out for a bit?” Drake’s hands were tucked into his jean pockets, his eyes looking anywhere but her face. “I was going to head out, so I figured you might want to come with me.”

Riley studied his face, her lips parting when she found herself staring at his mouth. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you sure they’ll let us leave? Without an escort?”

Drake smirked, finally meeting her eyes. “What do they care what two commoners do?”

He had a point.

Seeing no better opportunity to spend time with him, she nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, the two of them walked side by side along the quiet Cordonian streets. No one really paid them much attention, much to Riley’s relief. She missed feeling like a normal person.

Once they reached a corner café, she turned to face Drake. He avoided looking at her once more, the tension in his shoulders obvious. Memories of the night before flashed in her mind, and Riley sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. There didn’t seem to be a better opportunity for her to have a serious discussion with him about what had happened.

“About last night—”

“Drop it, Brooks. I didn’t bring you out here to talk about that.” Drake hesitated a moment before his shoulders sagged, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just—Liam likes you, okay? He’s crazy about you. That means that you are off limits.”

Riley took a deep breath, stepping closer. She reached up to grab his face, forcing him to look at her. “What if I don’t want Liam?”

People inside the café were watching. Drake noticed, sighing before he grabbed her wrist and led her away from the prying eyes. Once they’d rounded the corner to a deserted street, he turned back to her. “You can’t say things like that. You’re here for Liam. Don’t forget that.”

She frowned, reaching out for him again. “I’m not here for Liam anymore, Drake.” Once, she had thought that she could do this, that life as a queen was something plausible. But ever since that night in Lythikos, her heart had slowly begun to desire another. And he was standing in front of her right now. “I’m here for you.”

Drake shivered at her words, closing his eyes. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Brooks.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” He opened his eyes again, frowning as he looked at her. “We can’t be together.”

The little bit of courage she’d had began to fade. Riley stepped back, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall. She wanted to tell him that he was the one she wanted. Not Liam. Not any other noble.

Her heart belonged to Drake Walker.

Riley chewed on her bottom lip, turning her head away as she searched her mind for things to say. “I guess—maybe we should just head back to the palace then. People might start to look for me.” She started in the direction of the palace, facing away from him.

“Wait.” Drake’s voice was low, but she ignored it, knowing that it would just end with the same excuse. She’d been a fool to believe anything would change. “Riley.”

Her steps faltered. It was the first time he’d ever said her first name. Slowly, she turned back to face him, unsure of what to expect.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They stood a couple feet away, watching each other, both afraid to speak the truth that hung between them.

So, they closed the distance instead. Riley threw her arms around his neck, pulling Drake into a kiss. His hands tightened on her hips as he kissed her back.

Anyone could pass by and see, but neither of them cared. Far too many weeks had passed with this unspoken attraction. Riley knew she wasn’t alone in her feelings. She knew that Drake had to feel the same way, that he’d been trying his best to keep his distance for a long time.

His stubble scratched her face, but Riley didn’t mind. She’d dreamed of this moment far longer than she wanted to admit. For weeks, this had been on her mind, haunting her body and soul. When Liam touched her, she wished it was Drake.

Now, she finally had him. Even if just for a moment.

Drake’s breath was hot against hers, his teeth briefly grazing her lip as they kissed without hesitation. Any worries about what might await them at the palace vanished as Riley held him in her arms.

It wasn’t until a loud noise interrupt them that the two separated. Heat rushed to her face at the way Drake looked at her. Riley cleared her throat, straightening her appearance before she turned and walked away without a word.

For the rest of the trip back to the palace, they walked side by side, their hands brushing every few steps. Once the palace was within sight, the two of them put some distance between themselves.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Drake said once they reached Riley’s bedroom. He cleared his throat, looking down at her. “Sorry we didn’t actually go anywhere.”

“It’s fine.” She couldn’t resist herself with him so close. Riley stood on her toes, pressing one last soft kiss to his lips.

A quiet gasp echoed in the hallway, and she jerked in surprise, bumping her forehead on Drake’s nose. He winced, taking a step back.

“What the—” Maxwell’s voice was deafening in the quiet hall, and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, watching the two with wide eyes.

And suddenly it was clear. Some mistakes could never be erased, no matter how hard someone tried. There was no more hiding the truth of her feelings.

Riley tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she turned to face Maxwell, finally accepting it was time to confess her secret.

[catflowerqueen]

Okay, I finished Hiveswap 2 in... basically all one go. I will definitely have to do multiple replays to get all the Steam achievements, but that can wait until I do all my actual work and projects. Thoughts and major spoilers below.

Well Hiveswap 2 was certainly interesting! I can see why it took so long to make, and why Friendisms had to come first. That game certainly gives some more background lore to certain situations, though it also kind of… gave me certain character expectations that I feel were left unfulfilled. Like… given it is Alternia, and Doc Scratch admitted to messing around with everyone involved via his whatever-it-was making people more open to befriending the reader, I guess I’m not entirely surprised how certain situations ended up? Just… severely disappointed.

As far as gameplay goes, I think that the item management system was a little better than in part one, and it was cool that you actually got to switch between playing as Joey and playing as Xefros, and that they each had different commentary when you clicked on things. There is also a replayability factor, which is nice. The music was also really cool, especially how you could tell that the same melody was being used in every train car, just changed up a little to better fit the “theme” of the castes present in the cars. And that even held true when it got a lot darker/more depressing during the final quest! I’m also extremely glad that there was a functional hint system, because there were times when I really, really needed it.

But the bee minigame came pretty much out of nowhere, and the formatting for the directions was horrendous because it gave them to you after the game already started. Not in a tutorial fashion, either! Which meant that I couldn’t really read or understand what was actually going on until I’d failed the game two or three times, making the whole thing really tedious. Also… I’m kind of annoyed at how little actually got carried over when you use the “import Act 1 data” function? Like… inventory was the same, and maybe there were some things I missed, but it didn’t keep the name I gave Dammek’s lusus! It didn’t even use the default name for that option, either, or even throw in a line about Xefros telling you what it’s actual name was at some point while you were fleeing, which would at least explain the discrepancy.

Then there was the jade and teal car… and oh boy do I have a lot of complaints against that car. It’s honestly the one I had the most problems with, from both a gameplay and story perspective. For one thing, it dragged on way, way too long—especially for a middle section of the game. It would have worked a lot better as an endgame thing, I think, just in terms of the way games and stories are supposed to ramp up the action as you play, so things get progressively harder as you go. While there was some nice foreshadowing of how depraved the purple caste really is during that section… like the early game foreshadowing for it, it only really works effectively if you know the source material.

I mean. I guess Xefros’ discomfort in general works and gives it more of a wham/gut-punch for those who don’t know the source ahead of time, but… still.

Anyways, the length isn’t my only complaint with that section. The story was very interesting, I’ll admit, but the execution was not very good, especially when it came to the evidence. Now, I know this is apparently a common complaint with Phoenix Wright games, which that section is based on—that there is a specific order and place you need to use specific pieces of evidence, even when logic dictates that there is a far simpler solution to the problem. Like… at one point you need to come up with a motive for Tegiri to be hanging out by the Jade lockers. Considering that the entire trial has to do with the theft of a “forbidden book on rainbow drinkers,” this is something you find out during the evidence collection phase before the trial even begins, and another piece of evidence collected clearly states (or at least implies extremely heavily) that Tegiri is into rainbow drinker stuff, one would think that piece of evidence would be enough for a motive, right? Wrong. Instead, you have to use a broken action figure… and then you STILL use the other piece of evidence to show that he’s into weird romance stuff and would have been interested in reading the book! And that’s not the only time stuff like that happens!

Not to mention the section in the middle where the trial takes recess. The dialogue implies that what’s happening is you’re getting the chance to collect more evidence and statements… but, no, what’s actually happening is that you’re supposed to be taking this time to accuse other people of actually being the culprit by combining two pieces of evidence. The problem is, it doesn’t tell you this is what’s happening, give you any warning that you won’t be able to talk to the people you’re accusing again if you combine the wrong evidence, or let you use any selection screen aside from the evidence ones when it would be extremely helpful to be able to check on the timeline or suspect section again in order to get a refresher on where everyone was. And one of the pieces of evidence is a diary—but once you have it in your possession, you can’t check the relevant entry again! It only says who the diary belongs to and that some of it is censored. And since there is reason to believe that someone else messed with the diary to implicate the owner, it would be very helpful to actually get to explore that further in depth!

I really do hope that this is a case where there are multiple different endings, since the way it left off on my playthrough left an extremely bitter taste in my mouth, especially in regards to Tyzias’s character, who I actually really, really liked in Friendisms! But here… I got the “Scapegoat” achievement (which is why I’m hoping that there are other ways to complete this section), with the end result being that even though we got our client declared innocent, we also got an innocent (or at least, one heavily implied to be innocent afterwards) person declared guilty—in part because our co-counsel did not inform us of the fact that she witnessed evidence being tampered with and, in fact, knew who the true culprit was all along. And while her “Experiment” was deemed a success—and, I suppose, was technically successful within the set rules and did actually follow the whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing—it just highlighted that legislacerators still don’t actually care about justice. She could have, at any point, chimed in about what she saw, but was more interested in “keeping the peace” afterwards than actually getting the true culprit. And, yeah, baby steps and all, but…

I suppose thematically it does work well considering what happens at the end of the game when reaching the purple car, but…

I just thought better of Tyzias, is all. Friendisms implied that she was a real revolutionary for change, and, yes, I know that this wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t play that game and some allowances must be made for that, but… even so, it just seems really out of character, and I don’t think it can all be blamed on forgetting lessons they learned while hanging out with the Reader/those things not actually happening in this continuity, for whatever reason (though, given how Fozzer was acting, and the fact that Chixie brings up the whole “Mask” persona, I’m pretty sure that we can assume they all remember some things that happened… just in a way that’s vague enough that those who played Friendisms can catch the references while those who didn’t won’t be lost on what’s going on)

…And, in hindsight, the whole thing was probably unnecessary to begin with since the book actually got found before the idea off a trial even came up??? I mean, part of that is because Marvus suddenly wandered in and seemed very interesting in holding one, and they didn’t want to upset him, but… yeah, it’s definitely a case of “this all could have been avoided,” especially since the book is apparently only forbidden for the jades to read. But I’m willing to give that one a pass, since trolls are weird and there were various circumstances escalating the situation.

I still think that Tagora had something to do with it, given what we know about his infatuation with Rainbow Drinkers from Friendisms… but that never actually came up in the game? I see where there may have been an opportunity for it, but it wasn’t a very clear-cut one and, at least the direction my playthrough went—would have required the player to actually have done his route in Friendisms.

(EDIT: Apparently there are some different ways to do this trial, according to some things already up on Steam, but they are dependent on some very early choices in the game--which would presumably affect some other choices in later games, and which means that i’m going to have to do many different playthroughs if i want to see everything available--and it still isn’t likely to remove the taint on my feelings towards Tyzias. After all, I’ll know that such capabilities for ruthlessness remain in her character, whether or not they’re actively showing.)

Also, hero-mode Xefros looks a lot older than I thought he was. And apparently joey is old enough to at least be a Freshman in high school??? I thought she was still in middle school!

As for other characters… some I felt were still in-character, some weren’t. Like… for what little we actually saw of Karako’s personality, considering he doesn’t really talk, I thought he was fine… despite being extremely surprised he was actually on the train at all considering his youth and, well, what little personality we saw indicating that he doesn’t really do “civilization” much. But the twins… while they were spot-on amongst themselves (resulting in an extremely chilling and heartbreakingly well-done scene near the ending), they seemed a lot more vicious in regards to their interactions with others. Wanshi apparently developed a real cruel streak in this game, and, ironically, Tirona was actually a whole lot nicer and not actually a suspect of that trial, despite being put on the stand as a witness.

I was also a bit disappointed that there weren’t more of those clever fight scenes we had from Act 1, where there was puzzle solving going on mid-fight—there were only two of them, one being so forgettable that I pretty much only remembered it existed just this second, and only the last one was really clever. There was at least one, maybe two other points where it would have been really cool/creative if Joey could have solved things with dance in a battling format… but her use of her dancing shoes was only plot important at two points in the game—and that first point wasn’t even her doing actual dancing, but, rather, as a buildup for the bee minigame. And then she never even got to use her “bee dance” skills again. At least Xefros finally got to use his bat—but, again, it was only once where it was actually a useful tool. He did get to use psionics more, though.

 And there was a plot point with Skylla that was pretty much completely dropped? I mean… they did bring it up as something that was still unsolved right at the end, but… well, hopefully this just means that they’ll actually solve it for real in Act 3, because otherwise there was a perfectly good opportunity for a solution that Joey had in hand, but which didn’t get utilized. The issue is that Skylla’s lusus is apparently sick. One would think that this means that, assuming you carried over from part 1 (and I would assume even if you didn’t because it looks like a lot of the problems would be game-breakingly unsolvable if you didn’t have certain items you would have picked up through a playthrough of part 1. I guess that’s something to test for next time), this would require you to use the bestiary and vet kit, right? Wrong: I tried that and nothing happened. Apparently, the solution is that you promise Skylla you’ll look for medicine further down, and use that as a reason that Marsti should move away from the door so that you can pass by. But there’s never actually an option for you to look for the medication.

 …Now that I think about it, though, this would be the prime opportunity for some inadvertent (or intentional, as the case may be) foreshadowing from Act 1. Two opportunities, even, with one being far more obvious than the other. One could be that Joey makes some commentary about knowing exactly what to do, having seen a similar problem in her own “lusus”—her pet dog back home. The other could be that Ladyy isn’t actually sick, but is instead pregnant and having little lusus puppies—which would be a callback to that Puppy Surprise doll from Act 1 where Joey hid her keys.

 Still. I don’t like the fact that it never got solved in this part. Also that Vikare didn’t really get to do much (despite how annoying and confusing I myself find him) and that we didn’t get to see Fozzer again on the train even though we got to see several others on the train who we first saw at the station.

I’m also wondering what’s going to happen in part 4? Obviously part 3 is going to be either the party or further attempts to reach the party (and the suddenness of what happened with the ending does lend some more seriousness to the whole “you only have eleven days before everything gets destroyed thing), but… I’d assumed going in that two parts would be dedicated to Joey’s story, and two to Dammek’s, but apparently that’s not the case? If Joey really does get four parts to herself… then what the heck is Dammek’s story going to entail? I mean… those monsters, obviously, and whoever Jude’s “friends” are, but… I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to be hard to top this.

 As far as lore goes… apparently the maturation trials are not the same thing as the exile, since Zebruh mentions already having gone through his, yet he is still on Alternia for what is implied to be… at least two sweeps, I think it was? I think he said he went through them at seven, and Chahut is approaching 9 or ten and mentions being only a perigee away from leaving. So that’s interesting. I guess the maturation trials are the equivalent of a career aptitude test or something?

 It does make me wonder what happens with the Jades, though. Unless there are more mothergrubs on other planets, what do they even do when they’re off world, since apparently they are specifically tested when they are a lot younger to see who actually is assigned to the caverns vs. just living outside with everyone else. I guess maybe they just get jobs that are slightly more prestigious than olives, but still under teals? That would at least make sense for the ones who weren’t assigned to work in the caverns. Though it does make me wonder about Kanaya a little bit—had there been no game involved, would she still be considered “special” like the jades from Hiveswap given what her lusus was, except that because of said lusus she had to live outside of the caverns? It was, after all, implied that virgin mother grubs and their matriorbs were extremely rare. 

Also, considering how full this train was, and the caste segregation going on, I’m wondering why the train from Sollux’s route in Pesterquest was so empty, and how he could apparently just get on any car he wanted. I mean—sure, he ended up in a car that only had an olive on it, but considering they were literally the only other passenger besides reader, that may have just been a coincidence. It can’t have been that there were separate waiting platforms for the different castes, either, since everyone was mingling together in Hiveswap before separating by car. Is it just that everyone was going to the party, but the train otherwise doesn’t get much use, or something like that? Or did it have more to do with whatever the ramifications were for Trizza’s defeat? …Or possibly the fact that the attack on the train at the end just made people still extremely wary about travelling by rail even sweeps after the fact?

 There’s probably some more lore I can touch on, but… honestly, the trial section left me so upset that I can’t really put much of that together right now. I think I was going to say something about how the Jades would also be a good source of keeping culture alive between heiresses, since apparently they’re actually charged with doing so… but it’s hard to tell how much of that culture is just jade culture specifically vs. the rest of Alternia. Or even how much of it was actually serious, rather than a thinly veiled reason to let everyone indulge in things like tabloids, celebrity magazines, and rainbow drinker books.

Oh, yeah, and I’m pretty sure that Diemen at one point implied that his hot dog was actually made out of someone specific, though I’m not sure at this point whether that someone was his lusus, or if it was a troll. Either way, if that’s true, then it definitely explains why he is so protective of that specific hot dog.

EDIT: I remembered what the other bit of lore I wanted to discuss was. Well. I mean, it might not be considered “lore” as such, but... it’s interesting that of the two major rebellions we know of, both were headed by bronzebloods--that being the Summoner and Dammek. At least, I assume Dammek is the one heading the current rebellion. I wonder it it’s just a coincidence, or if there is something in bronzeblood nature that makes them more likely to lean towards these sorts of reactions? We know Dammek’s breed of lusus apparently favors strong leaders, and given the blood color would only be seeking out other bronzes (except perhaps when they hit the “my charge just died/got culled” stage and go looking for someone else to adopt, given what is happening with Joey), but presumably the Summoner had the same lusus type as Tavros. I dunno, it’s just interesting to think about.

Anyways... Overall I did really like the game! I loved the tone, despite how depressing it got at times, and Xefros’ and Joey’s developing relationship is amazing. I look forward to part 3. Hopefully it won’t take as long to come out.

[project-ohagi]

Kiyoomi Sakusa x Reader {Haikyuu!!}

The relationship he had so carefully cultivated was being dismantled, right before his ebony irises. The jewel-encrusted outline of your visage fluttered through his mind, as a final act of farewell, ghosting down and tickling his heart with half-silky, half-jagged feathers. This day, wherein his very foundations would crumble, held (it seemed only a moment ago) such incredible distance. Silently, he cursed the Fates - why had the universe, so transparently malicious in character, destined you for a solitary path? Your considerations, regarding university and the like, were etched into the deepest regions of his chest, but he couldn't allow the reason to surface. Not quite so casually. It was rather...disturbing; to this, he awkwardly attested. You had far removed yourself from the picture of prejudice, and yet some sinking feeling, some fierce instinct stopped him, each time. Disgust and discomfort would surely mount your heart, and this thought, he refused to bear.

It was stalking - he was stalking you. This was the unholy truth, and his comeuppance would perhaps follow shortly. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't yet been ensnared within your gaze (for as much as he was aware), since his nerves always spiralled into a meltdown, and with the developing of sweat on his palms, he almost slipped on the walls. That would be absolutely mortifying! He wouldn't permit that sort of display to reach your eyes.

Not ever!

All those horror stories of 'final straw' situations replayed, again and again, filling Sakusa with an immense dread. As he toiled away at an insignificant piece of classwork (in contrast, your importance could shift galaxies), apprehension began gnawing on his brain. His notes were growing more tedious by the second. A sense of eagerness endeavoured to exorcise the negativity, which threatened to consume his very soul. He wrestled with it; even after a full year, he still botched the calculation. He wasn't worthy of your unbridled affections, and it was entirely possible that the absence of your favour would be eternal. The intelligence gained (personal, I feel it crucial to clarify) in your presence forced Sakusa to count his blessings.

A lover had not yet sullied your perfection, nor had a tyrant stolen your lips.

A vestal virgin you remained.

Cloud Nine dangled him by the legs, and the softest of expressions invaded his features, at the mere mention of your name. Truly, everything about your form, personality and talents painted a deep, crimson hue across his cheeks. During volleyball matches, he made a point of periodically peering over at the cheering crowd, hoping beyond hope to capture your radiance amongst their ranks. This never proved successful, but he maintained a graceful play, on the off-chance that you were just hidden. He had to suspend that horrid disappointment which plagued his mind. Although (and he would forever class this as a defining moment in your relationship), when he recalled a particular game against Fukurōdani, the illustration of your face, illuminated with both joy and pride, as well as the heavenly sound of your admiration, torched the inferno in his heart. That was a memory which warranted cherishing, or burying in a time-capsule, to the embarrassment of your future children.

Quite suddenly, the echoes of your previous adventures together hollered to him, each demanding a separate, and blinding spotlight. There was the sweet shop date, where you somehow managed to coax Sakusa into tasting a bag of sour confectionary, after which he pressured the bile in his stomach to just--

STOP.

FIZZING.

Unfortunately, this massively backfired on him, and the once-serene evening concluded with sputtering and choking. Your nimble fingers projected their healing magic on to his back, rubbing circles and alleviating a fraction of the suffering. To declare that the sensation of gratitude welled up inside his heart, would be a severe understatement. Without your tenderness, without your compassion, he was certain that he would have long become death's ally. Now, caressing his temples, wholly unable to discern fiction from reality, he wondered about the validity of his memories. Were you even aware of the introverted germophobe's existence? Well, he supposed that was a given - if the visions of that fateful volleyball match were anything to heed. 

Then...would the uttering of his name, no louder than a whisper, cause your heart to race?

Glancing briefly out of the window, he noted the congregation of graduating students, of whom you were affiliated. A dreamy flicker clouded over his eyes, as he witnessed the streaming tears of sorrow and the wide grins. He wished for you to bestow upon his unworthy self, an appearance so genuinely affectionate and majestic. See, there was a tradition in Japan, wherein a student advancing on to college, would gift their second button to someone deserving of their love. Although this had typically been reserved for males, an influx of females and those who identified otherwise, began participating a few years ago. Yes, you belonged to the roster of third-years, and no, you likely didn't have an underlying devotion to a certain second-year. 

Such convenient things only transpired between the pages of romance novels, after all.

At the behest of Komori, the raven-locked boy had nearly approached you once, which was obviously a testament to his inner bravery. Then again, he had eventually chickened out, so...perhaps not. Still, he allowed those far-fetched fantasies to roam freely, now completely disregarding his classwork. A wistful sigh escaped his lips, as he stared, and stared, and stared. The background imagery smudged slightly, until the only perfect shape was you. Your hips seemed to sway in a teasing manner, as if enticing him outside, into the oppressive sunlight and the cherry blossom trees. He daydreamt of you, presenting to his thundering heart your second button - the ultimate proof of your adoration. He wished to receive it, and it was all he could do to cease from reaching out a hand, as he yearned to grasp that small token.

When he observed your bashful, giggling face, his heart imploded.

How adorable could one woman be??

For a moment, he figured that cardiac arrest was the problem, but no...that emotional organ was simply beating faster than his mind could comprehend. He hadn't ever experienced this before, and it was a little scary, but at the same time, it was exhilarating! He was focused so very intently on your...on you, and...oh my goodness, where were you walking? Panic started to marinate within the pit of his stomach. You were gaining speed, and apparently...dancing up to the window? His window? A polite nod was directed at the teacher, but Sakusa's heart just wouldn't calm!

"(L/n)!" The teacher greeted, a slyness twinkling in her eyes.

Your tender smile was brimming with both sadness and hope, as you responded, "Hello, (T/n)! I was wondering if I could address someone, briefly?"

"As you wish!" She mouthed a cheeky 'Good luck!'.

This open window was becoming quite troublesome for Sakusa. Your fingers curled around a section of the uniform, and when you tugged, something fell away. The anxious, onyx-eyed boy waited, rejecting any oxygen which attempted to filter in. Why was he so despised by the gods? Awarding another, worthier suitor with your second button, while his dejected presence was without a viable escape...perhaps you truly embodied cruelty, rather than kindness. Still, his eyes wouldn't seal, no matter how many tears endangered his pride. Maybe this was a mockery, but you allowed him to glimpse it.

Scripted lyrics rolled off your tongue, clumsily, and although your voice was quivering, it wasn't insincere.

"Sakusa Kiyoomi...I have always liked you! Please accept my second button, alongside my feelings!"

Maybe happiness wasn't quite so relative, after all?

[admiralty-xfd]

This is chapter 6, to start at the beginning go here for A03 and here for Tumblr. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Six: Thick and thin

The weeks passed in a blur; a daze of improbable happiness. It seemed every day their relationship was getting even better, which he’d thought wasn’t possible considering how perfect it felt that very first night.

As for the X-Files, Scully seemed to be enjoying herself on their cases, perhaps even more so than before. It was entirely possible his own mood was having an effect upon the way he saw hers, and he acknowledged that to himself, but he couldn’t deny that things were going well, really well.

Something they’d agreed upon verbally was a certain amount of discretion as far as the bureau was concerned. He respected her boundaries at the office (mostly) and her fraternizing rules in the field (sort of). She certainly never complained or pushed him away whenever he stole a kiss or a touch.

One day in mid-April, all of that changed.

Skinner called both of them into his office and closed the door. From the look on his face Mulder knew they were in trouble; he’d seen that look before. But he couldn’t recall so much as a missed report. He wondered what on earth this could possibly be about.

“Is there something you two want to share with me?” Skinner asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?” Mulder asked.

“The producers at FOX sent the raw footage of your case in Los Angeles for me to review and approve before airing. Is there anything on this tape I shouldn’t have seen?”

Mulder looked at Scully, and she was just as confused as he was. Was this about the case? Was Skinner as embarrassed by Mulder’s behavior as Scully had been?

“I thought you told us the FBI had nothing to hide,” Mulder said carefully. Besides the fact that the case remained unsolved, surely there was nothing on that tape any crazier than half of the theories he had espoused to Skinner in this very office.

“I’m not talking about the case,” he said, looking at them meaningfully. “I’m talking about you two. Having something to hide.”

Mulder suddenly felt all the oxygen leave the room. Was there something incriminating on that tape? He replayed the events over in his mind, recalling that he and Scully had remained entirely professional while working that case. Sure, they’d gone back to her motel room afterwards and engaged in some unpartnerly behavior, but that was well after they’d left the cameras behind.

Scully hadn’t uttered a word, and didn’t seem to be planning on it, either.

Mulder called Skinner’s bluff. “I can’t imagine what you’re referring to, sir,” he said.

Skinner’s face echoed that of a bedraggled father as he stood, removed a VHS tape from its sleeve, and inserted it into a nearby VCR.

The grainy footage showed the exterior of their Los Angeles motel. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Scully next to him and feared the worst. Surely the camera crews hadn’t followed them back to their room. This was some kind of trick, it had to be. Skinner suspected something was up and was probably feeling them out.

The camera zoomed towards the window, which was mercifully covered by curtains. Skinner fast-forwarded and there was nothing to see but a closed door and the timecode ticking up. Two hours, three hours. Four hours. Just when Mulder was certain there would be nothing incriminating, he saw the door open, and Scully emerged, followed closely by himself. That was it. The image turned to static.

Skinner set the remote down and leaned against his desk, looking at them expectantly.

“...Well?” he said pointedly.

Mulder looked at him, confused. “Am I missing something?”

“What were you doing in Agent Scully’s room for four and a half hours, Mulder?” Skinner asked with the slow enunciation of a teacher explaining something to a four-year-old.

Scully’s face turned white. She was the worst poker player ever.

“Um. Sleeping?” Mulder tried. It wasn’t really a lie. Technically.

Skinner eyed them both. “Look,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m aware of what’s going on between you two, okay? I’ve known for a while. This is just the first time I’ve got any physical evidence.”

“Evidence of what, sir?” Mulder asked, ignoring his ‘known for a while’ comment. “So we were hanging out together. What’s the problem?”

“Mulder,” Skinner warned. “I’ve been able to get ahold of this tape before it got to the higher-ups. But I’m not the only one who’s seen it. And word travels fast around here.”

“This is a violation of our privacy, sir,” Mulder declared, pointing at the tape. “This was well after the case was over. They had no right or reason to follow us.”

“You and Agent Scully signed a 24-hour release,” Skinner explained. “If they found you interesting enough to follow, they were well within their rights.”

“I think we’re done here,” Mulder said, standing up. “Scully, we don’t have to listen to this.”

She wouldn’t look at him, instead staring pleadingly at Skinner. “You won’t let anyone else see this, will you?”

Mulder’s jaw dropped. He didn’t understand. They still had plausible deniability. Why was she outing them to Skinner like this?

“I promise I won’t,” he told her. “But you two need to be more careful. They’re out to put an end to the X-Files, and any excuse will do.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said simply, and stood. “Let’s go, Mulder.”

He watched her leave, gobsmacked. “But… this is ridiculous,” he said. “They’ve got nothing!”

“Let’s go, Mulder,” she said, warningly.

He glanced at Skinner again, annoyed, but Skinner looked deadly serious. Mulder didn’t want to make this a bigger deal than it was, so he obeyed, following her out of the room. She didn’t look at him the entire journey from Skinner’s office to their own, and when they got there, she closed the door behind him.

“I knew we shouldn’t have done that, I knew it,” she said to herself, her hands going over her face.

“What’s the big deal, Scully?” Mulder asked, honestly. “It’s not like they have any actual proof.”

“They don’t need proof to destroy us, Mulder!” she said firmly. “To destroy me!”

“You?” he asked. “Scully, this isn’t about you. It’s about the X-Files. It’s about me.”

She shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you?” He didn’t. “This is most definitely not about you, Mulder. If word of this gets out…” she looked around the office frantically, moving away from him, standing behind his chair. She bit her lip, thinking hard. Her expression was inscrutable.

She looked so upset he immediately backed down. “Scully, tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you're worried about.”

“It’s not the same for you, Mulder,” she explained. “You could sleep with anyone you want to in this building and the worst that would happen would be a clap on the back and a high five.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he said, walking over to her. He pulled her in close, knowing full well it was probably the last thing he should be doing right now, but making her feel better any way he could was all he wanted. Luckily, she let him. He wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on top of hers. She took a deep breath against his chest and he could feel her calming down.

It gave him pause that she was so concerned about this. Surely anyone who found out would have to know this wasn’t about how it looked on the outside, but about what they were to each other. Did she think this was just a game to him? Just a temporary situation?

They both stood in the middle of the basement office, arms around one another in silence for a long time. It felt like there were things they both needed to say, but as usual, they were struggling to make themselves heard.

She leaned back and looked up at him. “We need to be more careful, okay?”

He nodded. “Whatever you need, Scully.”

“No more consorting on assignments,” she said firmly. “I mean it.”

He nodded, as dreams of any future late-night case rendezvous flitted away like a frightened flock of birds. “Okay.”

She looked at him for a minute, then turned to grab her coat. “I think I’m going to go home for the day.”

He blinked. “Why?” He looked at his watch, which said 4:19. They’d be leaving in less than an hour anyway, presumably together.

“I just need to get out of here.”

“All right,” he said dubiously. “Do you want me to turn in our field reports?”

She shook her head and took the neatly stacked pile from the desk. “No, I’ll do it.”

“Will you… still come over later?” They’d had plans to stay at his place.

She looked thoughtful. “Yes, just… let’s be careful, okay?”

He’d never seen Scully behave like this. He wondered where all this paranoia was back when they’d been bugged by the NSA, or the DOD, or all manner of government agencies that had tailed them for far more diabolical reasons.

“Okay, I’ll make sure there are no camera crews outside my place.”

She looked at him. “I’m serious, Mulder.”

He nodded. Now wasn’t the time for jokes, clearly. “Sorry. Message received.”

She turned to go, and when she was gone he felt the first stirrings of real concern that this relationship was not going to be the smooth sailing he’d hoped it would be.

In any event, he was prepared to do whatever she needed to make her comfortable. To get them to a place where they could move forward, truly forward.

***

Scully stepped into the elevator after turning in the reports. She hit the down button, backed up against the wall, and as the doors slowly closed a hand darted between them, followed closely by a male agent she didn’t know. He was blond and tall and sweaty.

He stepped into the elevator and glanced over at Scully as he pressed his own floor. The doors closed and they were alone with the quiet whine of descent.

The man did a double take and something like recognition crossed his face.

“Agent Scully, right?” he asked her.

She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, much less inside an elevator, so she nodded politely and stared straight ahead.

“Yeah,” he said in a long, drawn-out voice. “I thought it was you.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, not really wanting to engage, but at the same time mildly curious as to his meaning.

“Oh, nothing.” He stepped closer, too close, until he was standing right beside her. She shifted slightly away from him, but there wasn’t much room for her to move. “Just heard something about you.”

A chill went up her spine and her cheeks felt hot. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew exactly what this was.

“I like what I heard,” he drawled. He was breathing heavily. She felt bile rising in the back of her throat.

She looked up at the indicator lights as they ticked down floor by floor. Just a few seconds to go…

A few seconds was all the man needed to reach an arm out behind her and grab her backside.

*ding*

She didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to look for a badge before the elevator doors opened, granting her the sweet relief of escape. She charged forward, not wanting to cause a scene that would surely uncover everything she’d been trying so hard to hide, and brushed past the people waiting to step in.

She had no idea what floor she was on, so she waited around the corner for the elevator to depart, then decided to take the stairs instead.

The tears didn’t come until she was safely inside her car.

to be continued...

[fanficcreator]

Naively in Love (Bucky x Reader) Part 5

//Word count: 4,542 (sorry lmao)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: drug mention

A/N: This is big angst chapter that y’all have been waiting on! Sorry it took so long! Hope y’all enjoy!

Tags: @firefly-in-darkness​ @fuckthatfeeling​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @super-marvel-dale​ @secondstartotheright-imagines​ @wtfholland​ @delicatecapnerd​ @imcreepinginyourheartbabe-blog​

As soon as Bucky arrived back at his house, a troubled breath tumbled from his lips. He held a thousand mile gaze as his night played and replayed his mind’s eye. Guilt and shame festered in his gut as he leaned his head back against his front door.  He wasn’t supposed to enjoy his night as much as he did. It was supposed to be a friendly gesture, a sort of premature apology for his future plans. Nevertheless, he tangled himself in the way that her smile reached her eyes when they shared a laugh, and the pure contentment that she exuded after he’d declared their outing a date.

He cringed at the memory. That definitely was not supposed to happen. The words just felt so natural to him, though, like something clicked into place as soon as he’d said them. A shift happened in the energy between them that he was not prepared for in the slightest.

His far off gaze lifted off of the floor as he pushed himself off of the door and up the stairs leading to his room. He bit his lip and glanced at his mother’s door as he passed it, silently thankful that she had gone to sleep already. He didn't need her asking where he went after school; he didn’t have the heart to tell her what he was doing, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to lie to his own mother. Lying to (y/n) was plenty enough dishonesty for him. 

‘Am I even lying to her anymore?’ He thought to himself, pausing just before he entered his room. That question rooted his feet to the floor and pushed a sigh from his lungs. 

He knows what he felt that night. He’s only ever had that feeling once before, and that was years ago in elementary. His eyes flitted this way and that as he stood still as a tree before his door, almost as if he was looking for the answer to his qualms in the floorboards, until he’d finally snapped out of his daze and realized that he’d been holding his doorknob for the past five minutes. 

He pushed open his door and crossed the room to his bed, unceremoniously slinging his body across it and letting his leg dangle and sway over the side while his hand rested on his stomach. His gaze seemed to look through the ceiling as he unleashed his thoughts once more, letting the furrow between his brow crease and fold into his skin. 

It was all too much. He couldn’t handle deceiving her now that he defined the feelings that were festering in his belly. 

“I’ve gotta tell her…” He muttered to himself. 

With that thought, the fog dissipated, and a clear plan took place. 

…

(y/n) was floating on clouds as she made her way from class to class, a smile on the verge of spreading resting on her lips. Her stomach had been set alight with butterflies since she was dropped off the night before; sleep was a stranger to her that night. She awoke with a smile, and moved throughout her morning routine with a dusty rose lens of infatuation.

She swung her feet beneath her chair as she picked at her food with a dopey grin stuck on her face. Her friend had been observing her with her eyes narrowed throughout the entire lunch period until she reached over and poked her cheek.

“What’s got you all smiley?” She asked suspiciously, “You haven’t spoken a word this whole period.”

“Hm…?” She hummed, dragging her eyes over to her friend.

“You heard me.” She replied, “Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

“Oh,” She said, bringing her lip between her teeth as a light giggle bubbled from her chest, “Yeah, I went on a date last night.” 

Her friend was taken aback, and drew a hand to her chest, “A date?” She exclaimed, before a small smile blossomed across her lips, “With who?” 

(y/n) merely nodded her head toward the rowdy lunch table across the room, and once her friend followed her gaze, her jaw dropped.

“You went on a date with Bucky Barnes?” She asked incredulously, “What-when did this happen?” 

“Last night.” (y/n) hummed, still smiling and looking at him, “I just asked him, and he agreed. And it was great.”

“Oh my God!” She exclaimed, grasping (y/n)’s shoulders and turning her torso to meet her wild eyes, “That’s awesome! You’ve had a crush on this guy-

“Since forever, I know.” She muttered, giggling as her friend shook her back and forth, “You always tried to push me to make the first move.”

“For good reason, obviously!” She exclaimed, squeezing her poor shoulders for emphasis, “I just wish you had done it earlier.”

“...I guess you were right-”

“Damn right I was right!” she proclaimed proudly.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

(y/n)’s head snapped up from her plate, and immediately broke into a smile upon seeing Bucky standing before her. 

Her friend just chuckled and threw her hands up in surrender, “Not at all.” She responded, “You two go ahead.”

Bucky smiled at her, “I just need a few minutes.” He muttered before allowing (y/n) to stand and follow him to a secluded corner of the cafeteria. 

“What’s up?” (y/n) asked, smiling with her eyes bright.

“I-I just…” It’s the eyes for him, god he can’t think straight. He just inhaled and squinted his eyes as he wrung his lower lip between his teeth, “Are you free this Saturday?” His voice raised an octave, almost like he was pulling back from the question itself. 

“Yes I am, as most losers are.” She responded, chuckling, “What do you have planned?”

“My friends and I are…” He trailed off, reeling in his mind the easiest way to tell her that she was essentially his date to an ugly contest, “we’re having a fifties themed throwback, and I need a date.” He chose his words carefully; each word that left his mouth was plucked and placed gently into his sentence.

Her face lit up as soon as the words left his mouth, “I’d love to go!” She exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted to go to a fifties themed party!” She added a little bit of a chuckle. “Why were you so nervous to ask me that?”

“Who said I was nervous?”

“You stuttered your first word, Buck.” 

“That could mean anything.”

“Like what?’ She asked, giggling, “What else could that mean?”

Bucky opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by a collective shout from his group of friends causing him to jump and look back to their table to see what those idiots were up to. (y/n)’s brows rose with the sound, her eyes widening in surprise as she peaked from behind Bucky’s shoulders. 

“What the hell are they doing over there?” She asked, curiosity and mild concern dripping from every word. 

“Probably something stupid,” Bucky replied, his eyes squinted as he tried to focus on the table, “I can never leave them alone for more than five minutes…”

He mumbled like a disdained mother keeping watch over her toddlers, and his tone pulled a chuckle from (y/n)’s chest causing him to snap back to face her and shoot a glare her way. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Oh nothing…” she said, “you just sounded like a nanny is all.”

He just scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I did not.”

(y/n) threw her hands up in mock surrender and breathed an airy, “Whatever you say,” she then dropped her hands and crossed her arms, turning her attention back to Bucky’s rowdy friend group, surprised to find one of them playing the knife game with one of the plastic knives from the cafe, “You better get over there before someone loses a hand.”

Bucky just sighed, and started over to the table, “I’ll pick you up at five.” He threw this over his shoulder, sparing her a weak wave as he hurried his steps across the room.  

(y/n) just breathed an airy confirmation as she started on her way back to her seat, the smile slipping its way back on to her lips as her mind began to reel on what she would wear that weekend. 

…

‘God, I hope this is ‘fifties’ enough…’ (y/n) thought to herself as her eyes dragged up and down her image in the mirror. 

She adorned herself in a maroon dress that hugged her waist and flared by her shins. On her feet were a pair low rise heels; she knew that if she went any higher than two inches her ankle would be twisted by the end of the night. Her lips were painted in a deep maroon, to coincide with her dress, and she wore diamond studs; courtesy of her mother. 

She found her eyes in the mirror, alight with nerves and accented with mascara, and swallowed down the butterflies creeping up her throat. 

‘Why the hell am I so nervous about this?’ she asked herself, ‘it’s just a date with my crush of several years, nothing I haven't done before…’

Her thoughts were split by the ding of her phone which caused her jump and rush to it, plucking it from her charger. 

bbarnes: I’m outside, doll

She felt her face grow hot as she typed her reply, her nerves now wracking through her body.

(y/n): Coming!

With one last look in the mirror and a prayer sent up above, she grabbed her jacket, and rushed out of her room whisking past her mother. A small good luck floated from the front to the back of her head as she opened the front door, and felt the cool night air rush over her legs. 

‘Here goes nothing…’

…

Bucky and (y/n) entered arm in arm, and Bucky smiled when he caught (y/n)’s eyes light up upon crossing the threshold. The lights were dimmed, and a checkered dance floor was placed at the center of the room. In the booths along the sides of the buildings, “couples” were sharing milkshakes and fries, the girls’ cheeks alight with blush and mirth. The air was thick with hairspray, and cigarette smoke danced alongside the scent.

“How the hell did they allow that here?” (y/n) asked, vaguely pointing at the couple leaning against the ‘bar’, passing a cigarette between themselves. 

“Hell if I know…” Bucky muttered, “They probably bribed the poor man who owns this place.”

“Would they really do that?” she asked, a wrinkle between her brows.

“I wouldn’t put it past them…” He muttered, a twitch in his jaw as his eyes scanned the area. Once he spotted a free booth, he jutted his chin over towards it, “C’mon,” he said, “let’s grab a seat.” 

…

(y/n)’s head reeled back in a boisterous laugh as she placed a hand on her shaking belly, “He really ate a piece of ham off of the street for a dollar?” She asked incredulously. 

“The poor guy had stomach aches for a week,” Bucky replied, a chuckle caught in his throat, “You should’ve seen the look on his face when he spotted the Thanksgiving ham that year.” 

(y/n) snickered as she played with her straw, gently mixing the milkshake before her. A light spell of silence drifted over the two of them as (y/n) glanced about the room, taking note of the records glued to the walls, “Your friends really went all out for this event,” she muttered, “Every song so far has been from the fifties.” 

“How can you tell?” 

“Oh, um,” she shifted her gaze down towards her shake, playing at the glass with her fingers, “My old friends and I used to get high and listen to the old cd’s in their parents cars.”

Bucky snickered, “Sounds like a great time.”

“It really was,” she bit her lip, a bittersweet smile spread upon them, “that was when I discovered Nina Simone; I’ve been obsessed with her ever since.”

Bucky’s brows shot up, “You listen to Nina Simone?” 

“I live by her,” (y/n) responded, her eyes glued to the table, “Well, I try to at least…” She played with her fingers as she debated on opening up about this part of herself, but upon looking across the table and meeting Bucky’s eager eyes, a dam broke, and she allowed a slow smile to leak into her words, “she was completely in love with herself and her culture, and she fought for what she believed in. She put her whole heart and soul into her craft, and I try to work toward that every single day of my life.” 

Bucky felt his cheeks warm, “Wow, that…” he muttered, keeping steady eye contact as his gaze roamed her face, taking note of the way that she glowed under the low hanging lamp above their table. 

(y/n) chuckled bashfully, glancing back down at the table, “What are you staring at?” she asked.

Bucky, not realizing that he was staring, cleared his throat and broke his gaze after a moment, “That’s pretty admirable, doll. Not many girls find themselves like that until after they get out of high school.” 

“Not many girls have gone through what I went through my freshman year,” she responded shrugging her shoulders, “when my friends all left me behind, I had nothing but time to figure myself out.”

And in trickled Bucky’s gut wrenching guilt. He could only imagine how hard it was for her to open up to other people after what her friends had done to her. He could see the hurt in her eyes when she walked him through the entire ordeal the night of their first date. God, this was going to tear her apart…

(y/n) waved her hand in front of Bucky’s face, “Hello,” she muttered, “Earth to Bucky...what’s on your mind?”

He shook his head and bit his lip as he debated on how to answer her. He hated how well she read people sometimes; she would see right through him if he lied to her. He sighed as a furrow formed between his brows, and he met her concerned gaze. “Listen…” he started, feeling the sweat begin to build on the palms of his hands, “about tonight, I-”

“Wait a minute,” she said, glancing up towards the ceiling as she caught the gentle tune floating in the air. Her eyes lit up once she identified it, “this is one of my favorite Nina songs! We should dance!” She asked, upon noticing the couples swaying side to side on the dance floor. 

Bucky sighed as he searched her eyes, and found nothing but excitement. There is nothing she wants more than to be on that dance floor. “Sure…” he muttered, reluctant, but with a soft smile on his lips.

Once they stumbled into a free spot, (y/n) wound her arms around his shoulders, and chuckled as Bucky tentatively placed is hands at her hips. 

“I didn’t take you as a shy type of guy.” she mumbled, loosely setting her hands on his wrists and pulling his hands closer to her, “c’mon, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”

“It’s called being respectful, doll.” Bucky replied, a smile seeping through his words as he tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him.

“Mh hm.” she responded, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “your little tough guy act doesn’t work on me anymore, Barnes, ” she pulled herself up and placed her forehead against his, locking their eyes together in a playful gaze that seeped into Bucky’s bones. “I can see right through you.”

“Oh, really?” He threw back, widening his eyes and nudging her head with his, “You figured me out in a week?”

“I wouldn’t say I ‘figured you out’, but you’re definitely not a stranger to me anymore. I’ve just... poked through your wall a little, that’s all.” 

Bucky pushed an airy chuckle from his nose as he counted her lashes, “Whatever you say.” 

(y/n) allowed a smirk to lift her lips as she slid her eyes closed, and swayed along with the crowd. Her arms relaxed and her breath fell into a steady rhythm as her smirk melted into a contented smile. The warmth of Bucky’s hands seeped through her dress to her core, and warmed her with a comfort and contentment that she hadn’t felt since...she couldn’t remember when. The smooth plucking of the bass line thrummed the strings of her heart and traveled through her veins from the top of her head to the tips of her toes; it warmed her cheeks with mirth.

Bucky watched the music travel through her, and roamed his eyes about her face, tracing the lines around her mouth, and the shape of her lips. He felt the weight of her arms settle on his shoulders, and the tension seep from her back. Upon sliding his hands to her waist, he noticed her breath was aligned to the thrum of the music, and unconsciously set his to the same rhythm. 

When (y/n) opened her eyes and met Bucky’s, she smiled bashfully and broke their gaze, only to have his eyes follow hers. 

“Oh, now you get shy,” he spoke softly, carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking their bond.

“Shut up…” she muttered, chuckling because she knew that she was caught, “I was just caught off guard.” 

“From what?”

“...your eyes,” she responded, hesitantly, “they’re so intense and focused...it’s a little jarring.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

(y/n) snickered through her nose, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Their eyes remained locked as the song came to a close, and like magnets, they slowly pulled into each other, neither of them noticing what they were doing until their lips were a breath apart. And there they stopped, locking eyes and flitting down to their lips, asking a silent question of consent before brushing them against each other. 

“Alright!” Jason’s  voice boomed from the speakers, stopping the music, and causing the two of them to jerk apart, eyes wide and alert, “we only have this DJ rented for an hour, so it’s about time to wrap this thing up!”

Bucky’s stomach dropped as he realized what had just happened, and what was going to happen in a few moments. He could feel the regret pooling in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” (y/n) asked, but before Bucky could get another word in, he was summoned up onto the stage by Jason, accompanied by a boisterous laugh. 

His limbs were heavy as he took himself to meet Jason. His eyes pleaded Jason to just drop it and give him the money, but he merely responded by thrusting his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, causing him to stumble a bit. 

“This guy,” he started, jostling him about, “has a friend out studying across the country, and hasn’t shut up about missing him since the start of the year,” Bucky rolled his eyes, and knocked his arm off of his shoulders, “so, the three of us, Eli in the back, Bucky, and myself, thought up an idea to raise some money for him to visit his buddy over break.” A devious smile spread across his face as he scanned the crowd, “and I have to say, I am not disappointed with the results.”

He turned to Bucky, “Which lucky lady did you bring along with you tonight?” 

Bucky sorrowfully swept the crowd, and found (y/n)’s confused eyes, before turning back to Jason and pointing her out.

“Ahhh,” he said, tightening his grip around his shoulders, “Bucky, you sly bastard, bring her up here!”

The crowd began clapping, blissfully unaware of Bucky’s uneasiness as he stepped down from the stage, and lead (y/n) back to it.   

Jason waltzed over to (y/n), and wound his arm about her shoulders, “What’s your name little lady?”

Once he placed the mic before her lips, (y/n) tentatively leaned over to it, and spoke her name, “(y/n).”

“Full name, sweetheart.”

“(l/n). (y/n) (l/n).” 

Jason smirked and stepped away from her, then thrust her arm up in victory, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the winner of this dogfight…(y/n) (l/n)!” 

As soon as she heard that word, dogfight, all of the oxygen in the room seemed to have seeped through the walls; she felt suffocated. Words were muffled, colors blurred, and all she could bring herself to do was turn and look at Bucky, tears of betrayal and shock pooling in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky mouthed, eyes sorrowful and pleading for an answer. 

(y/n)’s lip curled in a snarl as a tear spilled down her cheek. She then ripped her arm from Jason’s grasp and stormed down from the stage, parting the crowd like Moses to the sea, embarrassment setting her face alight with heat, and flames of rage climbing up through her core to her chest; she could not believe she let herself be humiliated like that. 

“Wait, (y/n)-” Bucky called after her, desperation causing his voice to crack as he stumbled down the stage after (y/n); the crowd watched with wide eyes as a thick silence settled around the room. Once the doors closed behind him, Jason whistled into the mic and rocked back on his heels. 

“How about a couple more songs before we go!” he suggested, trying to cut the tension ridden confusion from the crowd, to which they cheered tentatively as Eli ran to the DJ and slipped him a few extra dollars to keep the party going for a little longer.

...

The chill of the night raised goosebumps along her arms as she set herself against the wall of the building, trying to collect her frenzied thoughts. Her breath was unsteady, shaking with the tears that rolled down her face, and fighting against the lump in her throat. 

She jumped a bit once the doors burst open beside her, and hurriedly tried to wipe her tears as Bucky clambered beside her. 

“(y/n), I’m so-”

“Don’t even start with that bullshit.” She spat at him, “There is nothing you can say to me that would make what you did okay.” 

Bucky jumped back, unsure of what to say next. “My friends...they put me up to it.”

“What, and you think that changes something?” She asked him, a joyless, incredulous smile on her face. She chuckled, her fingers against her lips. 

“You could’ve just told me, you know,” she started, her voice rough with tears, “I would’ve understood. I would’ve been happy to help you out.” She met his eyes, hers fiery and red, fraught with anger.  “But instead you choose to lead me on. You tricked me, and used me for some sick game.”

Bucky hung his head sighed, “I know…” he muttered, face burning with shame. 

She studied him, head shaking side to side, a furrow between her brows and a frown set on her lips, “Do you really think a sorry would fix that?” she asked, her voice trembling, “I was opening up to you, Bucky. Against my own gut, I started to trust you. God, I can’t believe I was so stupid and naive to think that someone like you would take a genuine interest in me.” 

Bucky just looked at her, ‘sorry’ clung to the tip of his tongue as he racked his brain for something substantial to say. “I don’t have anything to say for myself,” he started, his chest heavy, “I know what I did was wrong. I know I should’ve told you before all of this,” he waved his hand toward the building, “I never meant...I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“Well, you did,” she said, and she chuckled, “in the most cliche way that you possibly could’ve…” (y/n) could feel her tears building in her throat, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to swallow them down for much longer. “Just...just take me home.” (y/n) muttered, her hands balled into fists at her sides and her eyes sullen as she pushed past him and headed toward his car. 

Bucky watched after her, his guilt and shame sour and heavy in his chest, before he fell into step behind her. 

The car ride was silent, and when (y/n) stepped out without a word said in his direction, she slammed his car door closed, and began her walk up to her home, her hand shaking as she pressed her key into the lock. Bucky watched after her, before pulling off, determined to make it back to his house before his own tears got the best of him. 

…

(y/n)’s limbs felt heavy as she dragged her feet up the stairs, thankful that her mother had gone to sleep already so she wouldn’t ask her how her night went. Her hands gripped her doorknob like a vice as she turned it, as if it was the only keeping her from collapsing to the ground. A wave of perfume washed over her as soon as she swung open her door, souring her thoughts as she trudged her way to the mirror, kicking the door closed behind her. In a daze, she ran her eyes over her features and just...observed.

A thick silence settled over the room like a blanket, weighing on her shoulders and ringing in her ears. 

She watched the way her chest jumped when she took in a breath, and the way her tears swelled on her waterline. She followed the mascara streaks down to the smudged lining of her lipstick, biting her lip as she sniffled. 

Her thoughts trailed back over the night that she had, and felt her face crumble as tears built up in her chest. 

‘I can’t believe I was so stupid…’ she thought to herself as her back curved with a sob, and her hands cupped her face. 

And she cried, and cried until she had drained herself of tears, completely oblivious to her phone being set alight with notifications. 

When she was done, she dragged her eyes back up her face, wiped it clean of the sticky residue of her makeup, then trudged her way to her bed, limply removing her clothing on the way. Once she encased herself in her blankets, and curled into her own warmth, she found herself drifting to sleep, the tang of her tears still fresh in her throat, hoping for comfort when the morning came.

[missnight0wl]

Can you give an in-depth analysis of the Chiara friendship side quest, the Beauxbaton side quest, the Celestial Ball side quest, and the First Date Sidequest?

Oh my… “in-depth analysis”? I’m not even sure I know what you’re expecting. But I’ll try my best!

“Lone Wolf” TLSQ

It was a good side quest overall.

The situation with breaking through to Chiara was pretty similar to Talbott, but at the same time, her backstory was unique enough that it didn’t feel like repetition. And Chiara is an interesting, well-rounded character. I also really liked Snape’s role in all of that and his relationship with Chiara.

There were two things that I didn’t like. First, the fact that the quest triggers both for people who didn’t complete the previous Halloween TLSQ and those who did. As a result, they had to adjust the plot to situations where MC knows and doesn’t know about Chiara being a werewolf. And in my opinion, if MC knows about that, it took them way too long to connect the situation to Chiara, simply making them look dim. I think it could’ve been avoided by making Chiara’s quest trigger only if you completed the Halloween one – so the way it is for Talbott. Of course, then we run into a problem because the Halloween TLSQ activates only once a year when it’s also Halloween in real life, but it wouldn’t be a problem if it triggered simply when you reach a certain point in the story – as it should be.

The second thing I’d like to talk about is Remus Lupin. I know a lot of people were very excited to see him, but for me? Eh, I could live without it. It just was a bit strange once you realised it’s Tonks’s future husband. But more importantly, I think that his reaction and advice for MC were kind of odd and irresponsible. I mean, yes, the whole talk about the power of friendship was sweet and whatnot… But your friends weren’t spending the nights with you in their human forms, Remus. That was the reason why they became Animagi – because werewolves are far less dangerous for animals. Lupin didn’t know if MC is an Animagus, and MC themselves clearly didn’t think to use it. Telling a kid to spend a night with a transformed werewolf who shouldn’t have any control over herself could end up really bad. Lupin was the most qualified to help Chiara to not hurt herself or anyone else, so I believe he should’ve been the one to stay with her. Sure, it could create stupid implications that an adult man is spending the night with a teenage girl, but like… we’re risking the kid’s life otherwise. Or they could’ve come up with an entirely different solution. Just, don’t tell me Lupin’s advice was to tame a werewolf with the power of friendship…

“Hosting The Beauxbatons” TLSQ

It was… all right? It might not be my favourite, but it wasn’t bad.

I was a bit annoyed by Penny’s involvement, but it’s mostly because of her general overexposure. Still, I believe she could’ve been easily replaced by another character. Also, I think that the whole cover about the transfer to Hogwarts was unnecessary and, in fact, should’ve worked in Aurélie’s disadvantage. Rowling actually stated that Hogwarts, in particular, serves only Britain and Ireland, so technically, such transfer was rather unlikely to happen. I think they could’ve said that it’s simply the exchange. Rowan would notice that Aurélie acts weirdly anyway. Oh, and MC was pretty dim with figuring it out again. I’d just like them to be a little brighter sometimes, y’know.

While I can’t say I’m Aurélie’s biggest fan, she definitely grew on me as a character throughout the story – and I suppose it was the intention so I’d say it’s a job well done here. The addition of her brother as the motivation for her research was a pretty neat idea, even if comparing it to MC and Jacob felt a bit like a reaching, in my opinion. Part of me also wishes Aurélie was a boy, simply to remind people that Beauxbatons is not a female-only school, despite what was shown in the movie.

Finally, I quite enjoyed the whole plot with Nicholas Flamel. It was a pretty good mix of small mystery and fanservice. I’ve also seen a theory that it could be the Philosopher’s Stone that’s in the final Cursed Vault (check it here!). Personally, I prefer if anything that’s inside there was an entirely original idea – just as the Vaults themselves – but still, it’s something worth to consider.

The Celestial Ball TLSQ

I enjoyed a big part of this quest, and my biggest complaint about it is that they turned it into the romance quest when the majority of it was simply about friendship.

The part I enjoyed the most was probably Rowan and Ben, and I actually don’t see it as “forcing” them to go the Celestial Ball. In my opinion, it was shown well that the main reason why they didn’t want to go at first was because they thought they’re not good enough: they talked about things like nobody would want to go with them, that they’re too awkward. And that’s what MC was working on later – not just on changing their minds, but mainly on their self-confidence. Both Rowan and Ben definitely need that so it was pretty great to see it. Another character who was treated nicely here was Bill who overcame his rejection from Emily Tyler. It was just delightful to watch if you ask me.

Unfortunately, it was kind of ruined by the requirement of choosing a date for the last part. I still think that it’s such a shame that we didn’t get a route where MC could decide that they just want to have fun with all their friends. Especially that everyone else went single. Jam City basically said that you can’t enjoy the school dance without a date, and it’s kind of ridiculous.

I also think that placing this quest in year 4 was rather an odd decision, even if only because both Merula and Ismelda were datable options. Don’t get me wrong, I do love Ismelda as a character, and if you want to romance Merula – you do you. However, MC’s relationship with both of those girls was still definitely more negative in the main story at that time, so it just is rather out of place. It’d make more sense to happen in year 5, although, then we have a problem with Beatrice being trapped, and it’d be odd to organise the ball when all school is afraid of the Portrait Curse… which brings me to the next point.

“First Date!” TLSQ

Dating was never very high on my priority list for this game. I thought it could be fun but no pressure from me, y’know. But now, I see that Jam City is not handling it very well, reducing romanceable options etc. So to be honest, I think it’d be better to not introduce romance to the story at all. Just leave it to people’s headcanons. Of course, you can say that the players were demanding that, but I believe it was mostly because the devs declared very early on that there will be dating. And it was a mistake, in my opinion, as it created expectations they’re not prepared for.

I simply think that it’d be better to invest time and work from dating content into something everyone can enjoy, and what could potentially have a bigger impact on the main story. Develop characters in general, develop their friendships with MC AND between each other. Show us our friends who rarely interact with each other. Perhaps there’d be some conflicts between them, or on the contrary, they’d discover that they get along surprisingly well!

But that being said, let’s move to the quest since that’s what the question was about. I played it myself only recently on my replay account. In general, I’d say that it was a mix of cringy and adorable, and to be fair, I suppose it’s pretty much how teenage romance is. I was probably the most bothered by the whole note situation, yet I know it’s something a teenager could do so… The quest could’ve been initiated differently and better, but I can accept it. Surprisingly, I wasn’t really troubled by the situation with Tonks. I mean, yes, it wasn’t the right thing to do. However, I feel like friends/older siblings checking on a protagonist’s date is a pretty common cliché in teenage stories, and the quest is basically a bunch of such clichés, so I guess I can as well just deal with them all.

 I hope I covered at least part of the things you were expecting. If I didn’t address something you’re interested in, feel free to ask!

[bigsnzstanacct]

D/ream Da/ddy SnzFic D*mien 1

I wrote a DD sneeze fic. I wanted to do a date each with all the dads and I may yet get to it but idk, I feel like I’d have to replay the game to get the style down again.Anyway!

Fyi His name is Cary… because that’s as close to “character” as I could get with a real name. Actually he uses a first initial. P. Cary. (The P is for player.) (Maybe the name is why he has daddy issues?) (dream daddy issues *eyebrows*).

Also Amanda is the Player Character’s daughter. That’s probably the only info you need if you don’t watch the show.

— Damien 1

I awkwardly fidget with my clothes. That’s what you do right, before you walk into your weirdly hot neighbor’s giant Gothic house? Right? Before you talk to your neighbor who walks around every day in a cape and waistcoat, and yells at Dead, Bath, and Beyond employees for insufficiently Victorian clothing, and could probably out vampire Brad Pitt in that Brad-Pitt-is-a-Sexy-Vampire movie… before you walk into his house, you fidget, right? That’s definitely normal. I’m sure it’s normal. Positive. Even if you are well-dressed, even if for whatever reason you put on your navy suit, even combed your hair into something approaching presentable, and if you happen to have worn the tight suit pants that show off the results of your squats well, that didn’t make things weird, right? Just one Dad visiting another Dad’s house, no ulterior motives here, no matter how single and attractive the Dads are—or at least one of the Dads are, and—

And all of a sudden there’s a crash of thunder, which came out of nowhere I swear, and then he door is open and there he is…

“Oh, hello, Cary. Delighted to have you.”

It’s an imposing sight. Damien standing there, in front of his big, scary, weirdly beautiful house, tall, lithe, pale, right on the edge of gaunt. Tall black doorframe towering over him, that waistcoat accentuating his tight, grab-able waist, the cape emphasizing his broad shoulders… the hard ridge of his jaw, the cascade of his hair. And those eyes. Purple eyes. That must be color contacts, right?

“Uh, Cary?”

OH THAT’S RIGHT I HAVE TO TALK.

“H-hey Damien! I, uh, thanks for… is there always a clap of thunder when you open the door?”

My dumb mouth.

“Usually.” Damien responds. I almost say something but then… I see the twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re… messing with me!” I exclaim, exasperated.

“Of course I am, didn’t you read the weather forecast? There’s supposed to be sporadic storms all day today. Lucky you came in before…”

And then it’s as if the whole sky opened up, because there’s a downpour out of nowhere and I have to sprint up the stairs and into this house before I get drenched. “H-heh, missed it by an inch, huh?”

I take in the house. It’s large, imposing… yes, creepy for sure but… also… really impressive. Full of oil paintings that ought to be full on Scooby-Doo terrifying, but… nope. They’re weirdly inviting, below the thin veneer of terror they inspire. Sort of like Damien himself.

“Might I interest you in a tour of the premises?” Damien asks, shocking me out of my reverie. Amanda told me I had to talk, and here I am, in Damien’s house, staring and not talking. Great job, Cary. I nod, apparently under the desire to convince Damien that I’m mute. Luckily, he loves talking about his house, and fills the silence much better than I could. I like that in a man. Good at talking. Definitely on my top ten qualities. “I’d love to show you…” Damien says, “well… a bit of a surprise, but. You’ll just have to stay for tea, until the rain clears up, I simply must show you… well, first, my bedroom. Not um,” he pinks up. The blush looks good on his pale skin. Can he hide anything from people? “Not to be… forward in any… it’s just, the best painting’s there. And I thought you might want to see. It’s an authentic 19th century painting, based on a scene from Tennyson, one of his dialogues, and it seemed like you liked the other paintings. Nothing more, of course.”

I’m pretty sure he’s walking a little faster now, and I bet if I wasn’t behind him I’d see that adorable blush again. Too bad the cape blocks the view of his ass… Geez, I have sex on the brain. I need to get laid. Or maybe it’s just spending time with all these guys… how is it that every single dad on this block is hot? And most of them are single! It’s almost like somebody planned it.

Damien shows me the painting, which, yes, I love it. And somewhere between the painting, and the library, and the fanfiction—don’t lie to me Damien, I know a slashfic when I see one—and the butterflies and the tea… I start having fun. I start having a lot of fun actually. I finally regain the use of my mouth, so I can actually talk, and once I’m talking we’re having a great conversation! The whole Victorian thing isn’t Damien’s whole personality or anything, it’s just something he really likes. And there’s something really charming about having a hobby he’s so passionate about. I wish I had any hobbies I was passionate about, besides of course the niceties of lawncare. And puns. I am passionate about puns. I’m a Dad, after all.

“…and it’s finally cleared up so… I can show you the last thing!” Damien says, excitedly. “If you’d like? I haven’t taken up too much of your time? I of course have the greatest deference for the leisure time of my houseguests, I wouldn’t want you to think I’m expecting you to bestow your entire afternoon upon me.”

“Oh, Damien, I’d love to bestow my afternoon on you.” Why does that sound vaguely dirty? “Lead the way!”

And so lead the way he does, walking me out into… oh no.

Well, not just oh no. It is beautiful. It’s gorgeous, it’s a whole garden of what seems like every single kind of flower in the world, it’s absolutely incredible. It’s just my allergies, and more than my allergies it’s…

“Oh no, you don’t like it. I… usually this is the part they like best, but… we can go back in if you…”

“No, no!” I interrupt, my voice blessedly free of the taint of allergic urge… for the moment. “No, we don’t need to go back in, I really like it here this is… this is incredible, Damien! I was just…” I rub at my nose quickly, hoping against hope that it won’t betray me again but… my nose always betrays me. My nose is my nemesis. Or at least the nemesis of me looking cool. Or sounding like a human, instead of—what did ‘Manda call me?—a fifty-foot-tall moose monster slash air cannon with a side of a large lion-type animal purring, weirdly?—Oh. Damien’s staring. I’m doing that not-talking thing again. “I was just taking a moment to take it all in, that’s all.” I say, all in a rush. For a second doubt flickered in his eyes, but Damien seemed to buy my explanation for the moment so all’s clear on the western front. For now.

Things go surprisingly well. Damien’s telling me what all the different flowers mean, and how the Victorians used flowers to express the feelings they were too awkward to express with words, and honestly that sounds pretty excellent to me. I manage to pull out that knowledge of flowers I gained once from watching a history channel special while half asleep, which seems to impress Damien (3AM History Channel to the rescue once again!). And Damien’s telling me all about how he put together a bouquet to express “I feel slight regret at having mistaken you for a human being when you are in fact a rotting skunk carcass in a suit and an Edwardian monocle,” when I felt…

IT.

Oh no. Oh no. IT was coming. I felt it. It was already too late. I felt it taking me over, rooting itself in my toes, radiating out from the tips of my nostrils to send a shiver down my spine, taking control of every ounce of strength in my body, stretching my mouth like loading a cannon, shutting my eyes as I shook my head, faintly protesting against the all-consuming power taking hold of me. It was coming. It was inevitable. It was unstoppable.

I was about to Dad Sneeze.

I remembered the day it came over me. I had been on guard for it. I had been vigilant. I had declared: I wasn’t going to fall prey. I might not be a cool dad. I could embrace the finer details of tree-pruning. I could expertly attempt to fix sinks, call the plumber, and have the whole thing fixed before Amanda or her mom got home. I loved Dad puns. But I was not going to be a Dad Sneeze Dad. No way. No how. It wasn’t going to get me…

I was on a date with Amanda’s mom when it struck. I was’t event trying to be a Dad then! I was being a Cool Guy Who Happened To Be Married And Have A Kid. I was going to get laid that night. (I still did. *wink*) I was just getting into the precise details of the color my steak should be on the inside when an urge came over me like none I’d ever felt before, and urge that was utterly beyond my control. Before I even knew what was happening, my face was exploding with a sound that terrified even me, let alone how the roar terrified half of the patrons of the very swanky restaurant I was treating my wife to (that I also, purely incidentally, happened to have a coupon for.) I was worried in the aftermath that a) I no longer had a face because I’d blown it off in the sneeze, or b) we’d be kicked out of Chez Frenchtaliano Surf and Turf. (A) wasn’t the case, but (B) was a near thing.

My Dad Sneezes had gotten worse since then.

But there was nothing to do, and as long as I’d managed to forestall it, among all these flowers? It was going to be a Dad Sneeze for the ages. I hitched, I gasped, I wheezed. I caught Damien’s terrified expression through shutterclicks as my eyes fluttered, and my head tipped back, and the feeling reached it’s apex and…

“HHHAARRRRRRRRRSSCCHHHHHHHOOOPPPPPFFFAAAGRRLLL!!!”

A ridiculous, thunderous, earth-shaking, category 9 Dad Sneeze exploded from my face.

My eyes stayed closed a moment after the sneeze, as I enjoyed the wash of euphoria that came over me after every monstrous sneeze, the momentary afterglow before I had to face the crowd I’d terrified. I sheepishly opened my eyes, half-afraid I’d blown down half Damien’s garden to find…

Damien’s eyes closing, his eyebrows going up, up, up, mouth falling open, the architecture of his nostrils flaring and twitching towards a…

“WWWWHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAASSCCHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

Have you ever thought about what a vampire would sound like if it roared? That’s what Damien sneezing sounds like. Not a match for my own, it would probably only terrify three, four mallgoers on the outside (my record is roughly twenty-three; it had come on suddenly and I was in the middle of frantic Christmas Week Unprepared Single Dad Shopping), but a true Dad Sneeze nonetheless. I have to give the man his respect.

“Well! Excuse me!” Damien exclaims, giggling a bit. “I’m so sorry, I’ve just… did you know the Victorians were the first to identify the phenomenon of ‘sympathetic sneezing’?”

I can’t help but smile. There’s nothing to make you feel like you didn’t ruin a date neighborly hangout in a lovely Victorian garden with your galumphing sinuses than an equally (well, not quite equally) calamitous nasal eruption immediately following.

“Nice sneeze.” I say, raising my hand for a high five.

“Nice sneeze,” Damien responds, aiming for the elbow with flawless technique. Did the Victorians high-five? “Shall we… adjourn to the indoors, or…”

He seems almost hesitant to go inside, and to be honest so am I. As long as he’s cool with putting up with my…

“I mean, as long as you’re cool with putting up with my…” I say, miming the Sneeze of Doom I’d just unleashed.

“As long as you won’t mind my echoing call. We shall resound through the garden together! Now, have I explained to about the white crocus?”

“N-nuhh… you h-have… h-haveehhhhh… ehhHHH… EEEEHHHHTTTRRRRUUUSSSSCCCCHHHHHKKKKKKBBBBP!”

“WWWHHHHHEEEEYYYYYYYSSSHHHHHAAAAAAAA!!”

[notimetoblog]

Not Happening (Pt.5)

Summary: An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand. 

A/N: I am so excited about this chapter! It was so hard to wait until today to actually share it with you guys! I really do hope you guys enjoy it. Its a longer chapter.. longest one I’ve written!!! Thanks so much for reading, as always. You guys are the best!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 /  MY STORIES 

“I think whosyourmate.com is onto something. Don’t you?”

This could not be happening.

Keeping up with the thoughts crossing your mind was impossible. You had not only discovered that a picture of you had been hung at a photo gallery, but you had also discovered that the photographer had been Bucky Barnes, a man you had surprisingly tolerated throughout the night. To make matters worse, he was aware of the match Craig and his stupid algorithm had mocked you with. Not only aware, though, he was agreeing with it?

You forced your eyes to peel away from the label hanging beside the photograph, willing them to look at Bucky who remained silent after his sudden declaration.

His face was almost smug, as if enjoying the fact that he had caught you off guard. You felt your gaze shift from confusion to anger. Was this just another of his ‘funny’ pranks?

“You knew,” you found yourself saying. You didn’t speak above a whisper, though, still dealing with the attention the people around you were giving as they realized you were the one in the picture.

“Course I knew,” Bucky whispered back, eyes also scanning the room mentally noting the people who were all failing miserably in their attempts to pretend not to be staring. “The app lets you know when it finds you a match.”

“You knew,” you repeated with a much harsher tone.

You felt as the blood rushed to your face, heating it up in the process. You weren’t sure if it was due to the sudden anger you were feeling or because of the sudden need to run and hide from all the attention. The space you were in, feeling more and more constricting. Between the photograph behind you, the people surrounding you, and Bucky standing in front of you, it was all too much.

“Yes,” Bucky confirmed yet again. “I knew.”

“Well, I’m glad you had fun tonight Bucky,” you snapped, “I’m glad I was able to provide you with a bit of entertainment. Now if you excuse me, I have to leave since I’m done being laughed at.”

You stepped around Bucky, rushing to get out of the gallery yet trying your best to not attract even more attention to yourself. Seemed like everybody in the gallery knew about your picture before you. As you made your way out of the spiral of photographs you caught a glimpse of Nat, Wanda, and Steve having a drink. The anger flaring up once more as you realized they had not even thought of giving you a heads-up. Nat and Wanda weren’t exactly some of your favorite people at the moment thanks to their constant nagging about the whole Bucky-match thing. Steve, though, you expected more from. You had at least expected a subtle heads-up.

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard Bucky call out from behind you.

You were nearing the coatrack by the entrance and his voice had caught the attention of your group of so-called friends, who all turned to observe what was occurring between you and Bucky.

“Come on, don’t leave like this,” Bucky said as he stepped beside you. You rummaged through the coats hanging, unable to find your own.

“I’ll do whatever I want, Barnes,” you replied, somehow still not seeing your coat. There weren’t even that many on the rack, your anger just caused all of them to look the same.

“Its right here,” he said as he extended his arm towards you, his hand holding your coat.

You yanked it from his hands, quickly throwing it on. Nat and Wanda took this as their cue to approach you, seemingly ready to leave with you. Steve also approached you and Bucky, with a slower pace, though, falling behind the girls.

“Listen, I wasn’t laughing at you, so you can’t use that as an excuse to leave because it isn’t true.”

Hearing this, the approaching trio, slowly turned towards the direction they had come from, quickly concluding this was a conversation for just you and Bucky.

“You weren’t laughing?” you asked, eyes rolling as you scoffed. “Just randomly decided to throw up a picture of me at a gallery of your secret photographs, huh? And all of this after you embarrassed me as soon as I got here and threw in the punchline you were probably holding back all night about the match.”

You went to step around him again, but he took a step to the side essentially blocking your path out of this place.

“That wasn’t a punchline and no, that picture of you wasn’t random. And I’m sorry about that prank, it was stupid and immature.”

You just stared at him. How far was he willing to take this? You were already embarrassed he knew about the match and that everybody now seemed to know your picture was hanging in this gallery.

“You’re really something Bucky,” you said, not an ounce of anger leaving your tone of voice.

“Remember what I said when we started talking about the pictures?” he asked as he blocked your path again. “I said you’d have to listen a little for this to work.”

“Yeah, well I think I’ve listened enough,” you replied.

“You haven’t. You’re leaving as soon as the real conversation is beginning.”

“Well you chose not to say anything about what you knew all night. And for what purpose? To have fun!”

“You knew about the match too, sweetheart, and didn’t say a word either,” he retorted. “So, this isn’t all on me. And I already told you this wasn’t a joke or some elaborate prank.”

“I don’t care,” you said, frustration growing as he wouldn’t let you leave causing your argument to not be as strong as you’d hope.

“If you want to leave, fine leave, but I’m taking you home.”

“Not happening,” you simply said, unable to picture what a ride home with Bucky would look like.

“Yes, it is,” he replied confidently. “You couldn’t even find your coat among 5 other coats, not a chance you’ll find your place.”

You scoffed not understanding how one person could be so frustrating, annoying, and a pain. Maybe you should create a trophy for him that let him know just how much of a bother he was. You could have it engraved, “TO THE BIGGEST ASS”.  

“Excuse me?” Bucky suddenly yelled out for all his guests to hear.

Your mouth dropped as he called everybody’s attention to where you and he stood. You flashed your eyes to Nat and Wanda who shared a similar expression.

“I’d like to thank everyone of you for coming out tonight. I hope you all enjoyed the images. I have to leave now, but please enjoy the rest of the night. Place is ours for a bit,” he added with a smile. The guests clapped and those holding glasses raised them, most singing their praises to Bucky. Turning to you he quietly said, “Let’s go.”

“I’m not leaving,” you quickly responded.

“Well darling I already said goodnight so now we kind of have to leave,” he said, and you swore you could slap him.

“I’m not leaving with you,” you amended.

“Ok, then I’ll just announce I’m staying, give me a sec—”

“No!” you said, louder than you had intended. “No more stupid announcements.”

“Just let me take the time it takes to get to your place to explain. I promise I won’t take any longer.  You can say whatever you want after that. But I can’t let you go like this. Not after what I’ve learned tonight.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that last part. He had learned something?

You looked over to Nat and Wanda who were staring back trying to figure out whether you needed them or not.

Your mind replayed the words Wanda had uttered before you went on the ‘tour’ with Bucky.

“Try to figure out what the system saw between both of you. Maybe you learn something new.”

Could you really trust this guy? He had been nothing but an ass the entire time you had known him, yet you had noticed he had kept that side of him hidden tonight. But tonight, had only been a few hours, surely that couldn’t make up for the years you had known him for.

And yet now he stood in front of you asking for a few more minutes. Not days, or weeks, or months. Just minutes. An amount of time you would usually think tolerable.

“If you really think I won’t change your mind, then why are you hesitating?” he asked. His words echoing the ones Nat had spoken to you a few hours ago. “You have to get home anyway so might as well prove me wrong while you’re at it.”

The challenge in his voice spurred something within you. He was right. You were confident in what you had seen. Knew that this was nothing more than a game to him, so if you could get the last laugh then you should take that opportunity.

“Fine,” you said.

The smile he gave was unlike any other smile he had flashed your way. There was no undertone of mischief within it.

You gazed once more towards Nat and Wanda who were still looking back at you. They took a few steps toward you before you began walking their way. Quickly explaining what was happening and letting them know you were ok, you said your goodbyes.

Once outside the gallery, Rick wished you both a goodnight, a surprised look on his face as he saw you walking beside Bucky.

“My bike is in the back,” Bucky leaned in to say and you felt your stomach drop. There was no way in hell you would be getting on a motorcycle with him. You could barely trust him while he stood next to you, that little trust would evaporate as soon as he got on that death-trap. You began to shake your head furiously when you heard him chuckle. “Kidding, I parked my car over on that street,” he said pointing you in the direction of his car.

You sighed deeply, not understanding how you had actually accepted to have him drive you home.

“So much for not being a jerk,” you said.

“It doesn’t hurt to laugh a little, you know,” he replied.

“I laugh at funny things. Usually ones that are not at my expense,” you responded seriously, both of you falling into step on your way to his car.

He sighed, “Ok, sorry. But laughing at yourself every once in a while, can be therapeutic. Can’t take yourself too seriously.”

“I laugh at myself all the time, Barnes.”

“Had me fooled.”

“Well you were absolutely right,” you began sarcastically. “I’m having a wonderful time proving you wrong.”

“Hey, don’t claim victory too soon. This is just beginning. Tell you what. Let’s ditch my car and instead walk to your place.”

“You mean extend the time I have to spend with you?” you scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Scared?”

You rolled your eyes. He was actually a child.

“Please, scared of what?”

“Falling in love with me,” he said with a smirk.

You threw your head back as you laughed, careful not to trip over anything as you kept walking. This man was the bane of your existence. He was not only a complete and total jerk, but also an egomaniac. Again, you cursed Craig’s name. No way he could be sitting at home happily with an amazing wife when his algorithm matched people like you and Bucky.

“Nice to hear you laugh for a change,” he chuckled. “Thought maybe you couldn’t.”

“The faster we get this over with, the better,” you said choosing to not even acknowledge his reply.

“Oh, come on!” he said. “We got a soulmate-level match. You’re not curious to figure out why? I mean I’m already putting together my own theories. Why are you so stubborn? 20 more minutes won’t kill you.”

“That site is a sham,” you replied. “That’s the only theory that’s accepted so there’s no need to waste more time.”

“You can be so infuriating, you know that?”

“Ditto.”

“I mean tonight wasn’t terrible. You can’t say you weren’t having a good time. Up until you freaked out on me, we were actually getting along. Doesn’t that say anything to you?”

“What exactly is it supposed to say?” you asked as you glanced around the street, noting the people casually walking by you. “Am I supposed to applaud you for being civil for once?”

“See, there you go again. Just infuriating. What tonight said to me was that maybe that site saw something we hadn’t even thought about.”

You looked to him. Why did everybody think this? How could anybody believe an algorithm could be wise enough to see something hidden behind layers of annoyance and hate.  

“Wanna know why your picture was hanging in the gallery tonight?” he interrupted your thoughts. You weighed his question, curiosity fighting its way to the top against your annoyance. You nodded, remembering you still had so many other questions. “I had another image up originally. A picture of that one corner in Grand Central Station where you can whisper at one end and a person on the other end can hear you crystal clear. I got a couple who was hanging out there to pose. The colors photographed incredibly well, and I was happy with the way the picture turned out. I had set up the whole thing. Yes, I set it up, even if you refuse to give me the credit,” he said causing you chuckle much to your surprise, “The whole thing was ready, so I was on my way to invite you guys when I saw you at the coffee place with the girls. Figured I could invite you there.”

“You didn’t invite me,” you replied, annoyance quickly flooding your senses again. “You invited Nat and Wanda.”

“I invited you,” he taunted. “You just got a special kind of invitation. One that stayed true to our style,” he winked.

Suddenly you wondered why he had decided to invite you the day of the gallery and hide the fact that he was the photographer. You were more than sure he must’ve worked on it for weeks, so why not share it with the cocky attitude he was infamous for?

“Why’d you wait till today to invite us and tell us it was your gallery?” you voiced your question.

“It’s fucking terrifying to put yourself out there like that. Those pictures all have a bit of me. Had to work myself up to tell you guys.”

“Steve knew?”

“Of course, he did,” he said as he tied to move a few of the stubborn strands of hair out of his face. “Told Sam and Tony before they left. They promised to stop by the gallery once they come back from LA.”

You understood what he meant. It couldn’t be easy to put up a gallery of your work and invite your friends.

You had seen him around with his camera a couple of times. The thought of him being serious about photography never crossed your mind. Seriousness and Bucky Barnes weren’t things that you paired up often. He usually brought this camera along when the group hung out. The shuttering sounds of him taking a picture usually interrupting casual conversations among friends. Pictures of you had found their way on his camera, simply because you were part of the group of friends he spent his time with. Your next question sprung up.

“When did you take that picture of me?”

“A few months ago,” he replied, his gaze softening as he remembered, hands shyly hiding in the pockets of his jacket. “Saw you sitting there alone one time. I was heading over to Steve’s place and thought about maybe talking to you for a bit. It had been a while since we’d talked and I kind of missed teasing you,” he laughed. “So, I walked up behind you and stopped when I saw how peaceful you looked. Felt bad about disturbing you, because believe it or not I can be nice, so I just picked up my camera and took a picture. The light reflecting off the droplets of dew on the flowers was too good to pass up.”

“You just had a camera at the ready, you creep?”

With a laugh he answered, “Just for you, doll.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response. Noticing how his laugh wasn’t as annoying as it had been a few minutes ago, caused a strange feeling in your stomach. Crossing the street, you thought of your next question.

“So, why’d you switch out the original image with mine?”

“I got the notification from the app,” he admitted. “You almost cost me my phone, you know. I almost dropped it in the gutter when I saw your name. iPhone X almost gone because of you.”

“I almost broke Wanda’s laptop,” you joked, giving a soft laugh as you rememebered this morning.

“I laughed a bit,” you quirked your eyebrow knowing there was bound to be more to his reaction. “Ok, I laughed a lot. The fucking irony of it all, you know. Who would even think to pair us up?”

“Craig,” you muttered under your breath with disdain.

“Who?”

You shook your head, instead encouraging him to continue.

“Then I clicked on your profile. Saw your likes and the way you described yourself. Couldn’t find a lie, by the way,” he commented with a smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered Wanda had described you as ‘sexy and well read’. You quickly averted your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you’d suddenly become. You chose to let your eyes fixate on your shoes as you walked.

“Got to the part where you listed your favorite place in the world. I mean out of all the places on this entire planet, you chose to write in your community garden! Who does that? Couldn’t believe it when I read it, but then that image of you I had taken flashed in my mind. Suddenly I understood why you had answered the way you did.”

He had spent the day wondering, like you, why a soulmate-level match had been made between you and him. He had noticed your profile was minutes-old, so he assumed you were already aware of the match as you were still probably online. Once realizing you would most likely not address it, he did all he could to get your photograph printed and hung before the guests arrived, trying to get the topic out in the open.

“I admit it. I haven’t been the nicest to you, but that match wouldn’t leave me alone! Why? I mean how? Thought I would do one nice thing to see what would happen,” he smiled, “turns out you just assumed I was setting you up.”

“I still do,” you said, waiting to see his reaction. To your amusement his eyes went large, jaw tensing, as he processed what you had said. “Kidding,” you added before he got a chance to respond. “But you can’t believe we could be more than what we are now,” you said. “I mean sure, maybe our friendship can improve, but whosyourmate.com is still wrong.”

“Shit, that actually hurt,” he said as he put a hand over his chest.

You stopped at a red light, scanning his features for confirmation of his reaction being a joke. To your surprise you found what you thought to be genuine hurt. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Bucky couldn’t really believe there was something romantic between the two of you, right? The change from a red to a green glow illuminating his features caused you to turn around and continue walking as the traffic light had granted you permission to cross the intersection.  

“Bucky,” you began quietly as you crossed the street. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. “You really do believe the match?”

“I — um— I mean,” he sighed grabbing your arm, stopping the both of you from continuing walking. You stopped in front of a closed coffee place, much to your misfortune. Had the place been open, maybe you could distract yourself a bit with the people inside. Now you were forced to look at Bucky. “I don’t know. But if it had been another guy, if you had gotten a soulmate-level match with somebody else, would you consider it?”

You thought about his question, remembering how you had at one point been excited to see who was out there. Ready to give it a try.

“I guess,” you admitted.

“You would’ve accepted a match with a complete and total stranger?”

“I mean, maybe. It’s what I signed up for, right? Meeting new people. Seeing who else was out there. Trying new things”

“Yes,” he said, voice becoming more confident as he continued. “But you got me instead. So why can’t you apply the same reasoning to me? Why can’t you see this as trying something new?”

Your stomach began doing what seemed to be somersaults. Why were his words affecting you so much? The only response his words would bring out of you were annoyed groans or a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you so accepting about it?” You chose to respond with a question, maybe buying you a few minutes to sort out what you were feeling.

“Because what if it’s right! I’ve been on that site for almost two years and you know how many soulmate-level matches I’ve gotten?” He continued as you shook your head. “Just one; you. And maybe it’s a sham, just a glitch, a coincidence, or whatever you choose to call it, but I can’t stop thinking about what if it’s right. What if you’ve been standing in front of me all this time and I did nothing about it because I chose to ignore a soulmate fucking level match. Because the sham system, as you’re calling it, somehow picked the one girl I already know and decided to match her with me. Because I saw how you were drawn to my photographs, the same ones I just told you all have a piece of me. Because as you were trying to leave I couldn’t even think about letting you go so I left the fucking opening of my gallery. Because I’ve been an asshole every time I’ve interacted with you, yet I laugh at every time you call me out on my bullshit. Because maybe I’ve been immature and have decided to mask something else with a jerk attitude without even knowing I’m doing it. I’m accepting it because I KNOW I wouldn’t be thinking so much about this match if it hadn’t been with you!”

You blinked a couple of times. His words ringing in your ear as you looked at him. The strands of hair framing his face, had multiplied even after his attempts to tame them. A look of determination on his face made his barely illuminated eyes somehow radiate in the darkness.

“Bucky,” you started again immediately stopping, unable to form any more words.

“I know I’ve been a jerk,” he interrupted. “I know I haven’t been the nicest. And tonight, I thought it would be best to start it off as I would normally greet you. A bit of teasing to not let you in on the fact that I knew. I didn’t want to scare you away before you even got to see the picture. And then you just gave me the perfect way to try it out. Basically, dropped the opportunity to spend the night with you and test this out, right onto my lap. I’m not asking you to marry me Y/N. Just help me out here and consider it. I can’t get it out of my head, doll. Can’t seem to shake the feeling I get when I think about getting that notification. What if it’s right?”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then it’s not. Then we move on, knowing that we did what we could. That we at least gave it a shot.”

“Gave us a shot?” You whispered, the thought still a bit uncomfortable.  “I hated you a few hours ago.”

“I don’t think you hated me. You were annoyed with me, definitely, but you didn’t hate me. You came to the gallery, didn’t you? Chose to spend the night with me?”

“To shut up Nat and Wanda!” You said, surprised by how not totally accurate that felt. “They kept saying that I should figure out why we had matched.”

“Can I tell you what I learned today?”

You nodded shyly, nervous about what he was going to say.

“Your favorite place in the world is a tiny patch of flowers that everybody overlooks. A place that is probably only a favorite place to you because you see the beauty of it even when others can’t. Because you can sit on that bench and forget about everything. Didn’t even hear my camera when I took your picture. My entire collection of photographs was full of places often overlooked. Places that hold beauty most people ignore. We see things others don’t, doll. See places that are ignored and choose to spend time in them. Choose to make them our favorite places. I didn’t know that this morning. Didn’t know it until I clicked your profile on that site. I learned something new. Learned that I share something with you. Something that is special to both of us. I feel like there’s something here I hadn’t realized until I got that notification from that app. Maybe we are something we’ve overlooked. Maybe we are another patch of flowers we can both admire. Maybe we’re the something beautiful many, including us, have ignored.”

You stared at him unable to form a worthy response. He was making sense, much to your surprise. Why were you fighting this so viciously? What if you gave it a shot? What if he was right?

“Consider it?” He asked, eyes soft and hopeful.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady your heart and calm your mind. Trying to understand everything going on.

Timidly you nodded your head hoping you weren’t making a huge mistake. Hoping he wouldn’t laugh and call it all a prank. Hoping you were trusting the right person.

A warm smile spread on his lips. He got closer to you whispering, “Thank you.”

“Where’s your car?” You asked, suddenly realizing so much had happened, and you were still not at his car.

It was his turn to laugh. He closed his eyes and doubled over, peals of laughter springing from his lips.

“About 6 blocks behind us. We’re almost halfway to your place.”

That jerk!! He had tricked and distracted you into actually waking home with him!

“Needed to have this talk, doll,” he said with a smile, already knowing you would give him a hard time for not driving you home. “Couldn’t have it in a car.”

And although you knew you would usually be upset, you couldn’t help but smile with him. His smile wasn’t teasing, wasn’t spreading on his lips because he had done something bad, something to embarrass you. It was genuine, warm, and inviting. Thinking about it made you appreciate the way it caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle. Appreciate the way he was directing it your way. Finally letting you see how you might’ve actually been missing out on the beauty of it all this time. Letting you more confidently decide it was worth it to at least give it a shot.

PART 6

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Bucky Tags

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[kinktae]

Tempting || 6

Y/N is an angel and a good one at that. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She is out performing her duties when she runs into a demon. Luckily for her, that demon, Taehyung, doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, Taehyung just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

Or, “For someone who is meant to be so pure, you sure are dirty, angel.”

pairing: demon!taehyung x angel!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of suicide/death, lots of dirty talk and smut lol

A/N: this is less biblical and more supernatural?? Like less focus on religion itself and more focus on angels and demons as immortal creatures even though I might reference some “biblical” terms lol sorry this is too unholy anyways it’s fine. oh and this is a dream I had!

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (final)

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CHAPTER SIX (smut smut smut & dirty talk)

Standing in Taehyung's bathroom, I pulled the towel I had wrapped around my body closer to my chest. I had insisted on taking a shower to clean myself up, but really the need to slip into the bathroom by myself came from the need to try and sort through the blurred thoughts that ran through my mind.

I stood in front of the sink and wiped away at the fogged mirror, replaying the events that just took place with warm cheeks. Meeting my reflection's own eyes, a small crept up on my face.

Taehyung liked me.

Somewhere in the back of my head, there was a lurking sense of doom that hovered over me, telling what a dangerous game I was playing– what a mistake this all was. But for some reason, standing in front of Taehyung's hazy mirror as he waited for me just outside the door, it was hard to remember that I was an angel and Taehyung was a demon.

Because the person smiling back at me in the mirror looked like nothing more than a girl– a girl who liked a boy that liked her back.

The sound of a door opening caused me to jump. Snapping my head to the door that protected my exposed self from Taehyung, I let out a relieved breath to see that it was still closed. Deducing that it must have been Taehyung's bedroom door that had been opened, I reached for the bathroom door handle. Before I had left for the shower, Taehyung had made his way out of his room to put my dirty clothes into the washer and see if Yoongi had any clothes he could lend me. Seeing as it had already grown dark outside and I was incapable of resisting Taehyung's pleading eyes, I had agreed to spend the night.

The only trouble was that the pair of pajama pants Taehyung had lend which ended up being ridiculously long on me and before I could think to protest, Taehyung declared he'd ask his shorter and scarier roommate Yoongi for a pair of pants.

Walking into the room, I furrowed my eyebrows as I realized the door had been opened slightly but Taehyung had yet to enter the room.

"We're not done speaking." Yoongi's voice called out from just outside the bedroom door.

The intensity in the vampire's tone caught my curiosity immediately and I took a cautious step towards the cracked door.

"Yes. We are." I heard Taehyung respond, voice matching Yoongi's.

Inching my way forward, I peeked through the opening. I could just barely make out the sight of Yoongi and Taehyung standing in the hallway facing one another.

"You have to stop seeing her." Yoongi spoke finally.

I froze, eyes widening at his words.

"I like her, Yoongi. I really like her." Taehyung said, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably.

"If you like her, you'll stay as far from her as you can. This is a mistake, she's not good for you."

"How can you say that? You don't even know her."

"This is exhausting." Yoongi sighed.

"Then leave us the fuck alone!" Taehyung said, sounding frustrated.

I felt my stomach churn uncomfortably. I shouldn't be eavesdropping like this. Spying on their conversation was wrong.

"It's not going to work out." Yoongi stated.

I could only see the back of Taehyung's head from where I stood, which shook side to side in response.

"You don't know that."

"I know that she has no idea what she's getting herself into. Neither of you does."

"You don't think I know that this is crazy? That being with her is insane? If anyone finds out about us, it'll be fucking disastrous. I know that." Taehyung exclaimed, running his hands through his hair.

"Then why bother?" Yoongi retorted.

Taehyung let out a shallow sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I... I don't know."

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, "You don't know?"

"I don't fucking know, alright!" Taehyung snapped, "I can't explain it. I know I should just leave her alone, but I can't and I don't know why, but I'll be damned if I let her go knowing that she feels the same way I do."

Yoongi stared at Taehyung for a silent moment before flickering towards my direction, meeting my eyes directly. My eyes widened in surprise as Yoongi held my stare unwaveringly.

He knew. He knew I was watching them this whole time.

"You're already damned." Yoongi said firmly, his cold eyes never leaving mine.

I stepped back away from the door immediately, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe.

Yoongi was right. What were we doing? Who in God's name did we think we were trying to kid? We could only sneak around for so long before people would start to find out. Word of an angel and demon seeing on another was bound to travel quickly. Not to mention the Dominions were probably actively monitoring me ever since they requested to me to become a Power.

Oh, God. There's no way I can become a Power now.

Things were different now; Taehyung had changed everything. He changed me.

My angelhood had just begun to make some sense. When Eliza had first approached me with the Dominion's offer of becoming a Power, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could amount to something bigger than myself. Something good. I could be a Power and help mankind.

Except now I couldn't.

I had tumbled and fallen for the very thing my superiors wanted me to eliminate. I found warmth and comfort in someone dark and cold and I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that even though I knew all this, I still didn't care.

What was wrong with me?

The sound of Taehyung pushing his bedroom door open pulled me out of my thoughts and I looked up at him with glassy eyes. His eyes found mine with a sympathetic frown.

"You heard?" He asked quietly.

I swallowed the sob that threatened to break free, nodding my head.

Taehyung stood silently for a moment, a distant look falling over his face as he thought to himself.

"Here." He said finally, extended his arm towards me, Yoongi's pajamas in hand. I grabbed the garment cautiously, clutching them to my chest once I had a hold on them.

"Change. Let's just go to sleep okay?" He sighed, making his way towards his bed. Frowning, I walked back into his bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

We had to talk about this. We had to figure out what we were doing. We needed some sort of plan. I wanted to be with Taehyung. There had to be a way for us to be together without more people finding out. It was in my nature to be optimistic but surely Taehyung and I weren't entirely hopeless.

By the time I had changed and walked back into the bedroom, Taehyung had turned the light off and was lying in his bed with his back pressed against the wall, eyes fixated on me expectantly.

Slowly, I made my way towards him, sighing before slipping into his bed to join him. I brought the cover up to my chin, facing him wearily.

His bed was small and his sheets were warm; I could feel Taehyung's breath hitting my face.

I thought for a moment he might say something; the way his eyes burned into mine made me feel as if he had something to say, but to my chagrin, he stayed silent.

"Taehyung." I began, not wanting to upset him but needing to know that we were on the same page. I didn't think I could get much rest without knowing what was on his mind.

"Don't, angel." He replied, his eyes shutting.

"No. I need to say this." I continued, raising my voice. Taehyung opened his eyes, causing me to grow slightly nervous. I took a shaky breath as I continued.

"We're in over our heads. This is wrong and... and we shouldn't be doing this but–"

"Okay."

Taehyung sudden interjection caught me off guard, causing me to fall silent.

"Okay?" I repeated weakly.

"Okay. We don't have to do this. It's not worth it. I'm not going to put you at risk for any longer. You have more to lose than I do. I get that. Just forget about it." Taehyung pressed, shutting his eyes once more.

Suddenly, the room became cold and not in a way that would benefit from a warm blanket.

It's not worth it.

Forget about it.

My heart felt heavy in my chest as I let his words float around my mind and I stared at his handsome face, feeling hurt and confused.

"Taehyung, I don't–"

"Just go to sleep. I'll take you home and we can talk more in the morning." He mumbled, clearly not interested in continuing this conversation any longer.

We can talk more in the morning.

That was a good sign, right? Because his last words sounded an awful lot like a goodbye and I didn't know how to lose something I barely had.

"Okay. Goodnight then." I said finally in a voice so small I hardly recognized it. Taehyung merely turned over, turning his back to face me.

I stared at it for a moment, remembering the way he had opened up to me, how he had said he cared about me. How we go from then to now?

I let my eyes fall shut, my heart far too tired to keep reliving memories that once made it flutter.

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I woke up at the feeling of sunlight fill the room.; angels were creatures of light after all.

Confusion met me for a moment as I took in the sight of Jungkook's sleeping body lying in a bed across from me. Turning my head, I found Taehyung still lying beside me, his eyes fluttering open at the sound of my head shifting against the pillow.

He sat up immediately, looking over me and his sleeping roommate.

"Fuck." Was the first thing he said once he met my eyes.

"Good morning to you, too." I scrunched my nose at his harsh words.

"No." Taehyung urged, shaking his head, "Your eyes. They're back to normal."

"What do you mean my– Oh, God!"

The suppressor had worn off– of course it had! I couldn't believe I agreed to spend the night without thinking about the fact my angelic essence wouldn't be hidden come morning time.

Taehyung's eyes moved briefly to Jungkook, expression falling dark.

"Once he wakes up and senses that you're an angel... it's going to be a fucking mess. There's nothing Incubuses crave more than purity."

"Purity?" I asked, throat tightening.

"All demons work in varying ways but the end goal is the same: taint the souls of the innocent."

My eyes widened at the thought of Jungkook waking up of me, an angel, the purest form of soul, laying across the room from him.

Not needing any more convincing, I shuffled out of Taehyung's bed as quietly as I could with Taehyung following behind me, ushering me out the room.

He grimaced slightly as he shut his bedroom door behind us, the noise echoing in the empty hallway. I crossed my arms over my chest; it was incredibly cold in his apartment now. Maybe the suppressor had dulled my need for warmth but as I stood barefoot on the cold tile floor, I couldn't help but shiver.

"Are you–" Taehyung pressed a finger to his mouth, silencing my words. I nodded in understanding, watching as he peered around the corner that led into the living room.

He mouthed that the coast was clear and I patted silently over to him, taking his hand as we walked through the living room and into a hallway I had yet to walk in.

We had hardly taken a few steps into the hallway before the sound of someone singing to themselves appeared out of nowhere. Taehyung poked his head into the open doorway where the singing had come from.

"Dammit, every damn morning." Taehyung huffed under his breath before turning around and grabbing onto my upper arm. I let out a small squeak in surprise as he pulled me into his chest and yanked us past what I could only assume was the kitchen.

I was quickly shoved into what revealed itself as the laundry room, Taehyung shutting the door behind us quickly.

"Tae? Was that you running past me just now?" A familiar voice called out.

"Uh, yeah but... I'm naked so don't come near me!" Taehyung lied poorly.

"You didn't look naked when I saw you?"

Taehyung grimaced at the man's words, "Yeah, well... I'm naked now, so give me a minute!"

"Who is that?" I whispered, confused as I didn't get a good glimpse at the apartment's early riser.

"It's Jin."

"Jin...? Oh wait, I remember him! He helped me when I was drunk!" I smiled, remembering the pink haired man.

"Keep your voice down!" Taehyung scolded, shushing me. I frowned.

"Does he live here too?" I asked.

"No, he just likes to come over in the morning and make us all breakfast."

"Wow, that's so nice of him." I replied, pleased that my drunken self had made such a kind acquaintance.

"Yeah, well, he's only half demon after all. Whatever, let's just get changed and we'll sneak you past him okay? Jin is a morning person and if he sees you, he'll want to talk to you for at least ten minutes."

I almost opened my mouth to tell Taehyung that I actually wanted to talk to Jin but decided against it considering how much of a panic Taehyung was in to get me out of here.

Grabbing my clothes from the dryer, I told Taehyung to turn around as I changed, which he respectfully complied. Taehyung had also grabbed some clothes from the dryer and made the effort to change himself.

"Just stay on my left at all times, so he doesn't see you. We'll sneak past the kitchen as soon as he's got his back facing the hallway." Taehyung explained, before opening the laundry door.

"Well, hello." Jin said, standing outside the door, causing both Taehyung and I to jump in surprise.

"This door is quite thin, you know." Jin pointed out dryly, "Voices travel through it astonishingly well."

Jin looked over at me in surprise, as if he hadn't been expecting me to be the one Taehyung had snuck into the laundry room. He looked exactly like I had remembered him, only this time he wore an apron around his neck.

"Oh, hey. You're that really drunk girl from Limbo." Jin recognized, smiling.

"Hello." I let out an awkward laugh before averting my eyes to look at the ground. I wasn't sure how half demons work but hopefully, it meant that he couldn't outwardly sense my angelic essence; as long as I didn't let him see my eyes, there was a chance my divinity could go by unnoticed.

I felt Taehyung step out in front of me, blocking me from Jin's line of vision.

"I was wondering whose panties were in the dryer." Jin revealed with a small chuckle.

My eyes widened at his words, trying to fight off the blush that threatened to make its way onto my face.

"I hope you guys weren't going at it in the laundry room. I just did a whole bunch of laundry and I'm going to be really fucking annoyed if you guys dirtied the clothes again." Jin warned somewhat seriously.

"We were just leaving actually." Taehyung said, grabbing onto my wrist and forcing his way past Jin.

"Wha– But I just made breakfast!" I heard Jin pout.

"Put a plate for me in the fridge!" Taehyung called out, not stopping to reply as we made our way towards the front door.

"No one appreciates me. You ungrateful assholes sleep on me, I swear." I heard Jin complained loudly.

Taehyung and I slipped out past the front door.

"Sleep on him?" I asked in confusion once Taehyung shut the door.

"It's some human slang he likes to use a lot. I dunno." Taehyung shrugged, already making his way towards the elevator.

I nodded. Jane also used to use a lot of funny expressions back when I watched over her. Jin must live normally in the human world then, seeing as he was still technically human

I ran to catch up with Taehyung, who was already mounting the elevator.

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The walk to my house was unusually silent.

I tried to talk to Taehyung, hoping to start up a casual conversation but he gave me short and uninterested replies and our conversation before bed lingered in the back of my mind.

It was the strangest thing. Typically when Taehyung and I spent our outing together he normally was unable to stop speaking. Be it asking one of his millions of questions about angelhood or his unrelenting flirtatious advances, there was hardly a soundless moment between us.

I'd give anything to have either of those things replace this unnatural silence.

We had just reached the door to my house when I heard a loud laugh sound come from within, undoubtedly belonging to Hobi.

"They're home." I sighed as I turned towards Taehyung, moving a strand of hair out of my face.

"Okay." He replied, not really meeting my eyes.

I pressed my lips together.

Enough. I refused to let this unusual and awkward atmosphere between us go on for any longer.

"We need to talk. We can sneak into my room using the window." I said, trying my best to sound authoritative. "And before you say anything, I am not taking no for an answer."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at my stern tone, causing my resolve to falter slightly, but nodded regardless.

We made it into my room quietly and considering the three voices that came from downstairs, I knew we were alone on the second floor.

"Okay," I said, sitting down onto my bed, "What's your problem?"

Taehyung scoffed, "My problem?"

He had crossed his arms in front of his chest and I was painfully aware of how he towered over me; I tried my best to ignore how small.

"Yes. You said we would talk but you haven't spoken to me all morning."

"We're literally talking right now–"

"No!" I countered loudly, only to lower my voice in case one of the boys downstairs heard me, "No we're not. We're doing the exact opposite of talking. We're arguing."

Taehyung rolled his eyes at my words causing me to frown.

"Talk to me." I pleaded calmly, pushing down the anger that was bubbling in my chest.

"What the fuck do you want me to say, huh? What the fuck do you want? Because you sure as hell don't want me!" Taehyung suddenly snapped causing me to shush him.

"Lower your voice." I urged. "And what are you talking about?"

"Oh please, don't act naive. I saw it on your face last night. Yoongi knows it, you know it and I know it. You said it yourself, an angel and demon dating is stupid."

I blinked in disbelief. Is this what he thought? That I didn't want him?

"Of course it's stupid! It's the most ridiculous concept I can think of and the fact that I fell for you has to be some cruel karma for being such a bad angel." I hissed lowly, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

Taehyung merely scoffed coldly, "What's your point, Y/N."

"My point is that despite me knowing all that, I still don't care. I want you, Taehyung. I want you so much that I literally don't know what to do with myself. From the moment I saw you beside me on that hill, I was yours."

My last words caught me by surprise and I felt my throat tighten in emotion.

"Y/N–" Taehyung began but I wasn't finished.

"Stop. I want this, Taehyung. I want us. And I'm willing to risk everything I know and have if it means you're in this with me." I said, watching as Taehyung did nothing but stare back at me.

My face burned from my words, not used to being this vulnerable with my feelings, but I could hardly notice with the way the room had fallen silent.

'Say something.' I pleaded in my head silently.

How I wished now more than ever that I was the one able to read thoughts because as Taehyung stood in front of me expressionlessly, I felt humiliation began to crawl over me.

"Get out." I seethed, my feelings officially hurt. Taehyung raised an eyebrow in surprise which only succeeded in further angering me.

"Seriously, Taehyung, get out. Get out and just... just leave me alone."

"What, now you hate me?" Taehyung laughed, shaking his head.

I let out a bitter noise.

"If I can't love you then I might as well hate you, right?" I snapped.

At the sound of the word love falling from my lips, Taehyung's expression dropped.

Turning my head away from him, I felt the weight on my bed beside me shift as he sat down. I could feel my eyes begin to water and the last thing I wanted was to let Taehyung see that he had made me cry.

"Look at me." He ordered, somewhat calmly.

When I didn't move, his hand wrapped itself around my jaw, forcing me to turn and look at him.

I glared at him through streaming eyes.

"I hate you." I lied feebly, the tears rolling down my cheek wetting his fingers. Taehyung's eyes fell onto my mouth and he made a noise as if he understood.

"Hate you too, angel." He muttered quietly before pressing his mouth against mine.

I wish I could've said that I had sense enough to shove him away, to reject him and his advances. But I was weak and hurting so instead I clung onto Taehyung like he'd disappear forever if I let go.

He let out a small noise of appreciation as I let his tongue slip into my mouth, the hot muscle wearing down all my resolve as I let him push me back down onto the bed.

I was confused– so confused. I had no idea where this was going to leave us; the only thing that made sense was the way Taehyung pressed his body against mine.

Taehyung broke away from the heated exchange, leaving me panting and annoyed, but before I could voice my thoughts, he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and tugged it over and off my body.

Everything was rushed and happening so urgently as if neither of us trusted the moment to last for as long as we needed it to. Before I knew it, my bra was off and Taehyung's mouth has replaced it.

I whined at the soft, open-mouthed kisses he laid on my chest, whimpering at the occasional licks he placed onto my breasts.

"No teasing." I begged, tugging at his hair. Taehyung looked up at me, flashing me a dark look before moving one of his hands down my body to where I needed him the most.

I bit down onto my bottom lip, still not entirely familiar with the feeling.

Taehyung's fingers ran down my clothed core teasingly, pressing down onto the wet patch that had formed. I spread my legs automatically, eager to give him better access.

"For someone who is meant to be pure, you sure are dirty, angel." Taehyung tutted lowly, nibbling my earlobe lightly.

His fingers finding the fabric above my clit prevented me from responding with anything other than a breathy gasp, my thighs already started to shake.

"You're literally soaked. You're absolutely filthy aren't you, baby?"

"Yes." I replied, my face burning. Taehyung hadn't asked for an answer but one stumbled out of my mouth on its own accord.

And before I could pause to reconsider, I reached a hand out towards the front of Taehyung jeans, wanting to make him feel good too.

Taehyung was quick to notice my movements, however, pulling his hand away from in between my thighs to slap mine away.

"Filthy girls like you don't get to touch." He warned lowly, his dominance over the situation glaringly obvious.

I didn't have time to dwell on how embarrassed I was for getting scolded over greedily reaching for him because he returned his hand to where it originally was, pushing my panties aside to stick a finger inside of me.

A small gasp escaped my lips at the feeling of the sudden foreign object filling me.

Taehyung was staring at me intently, pressing a kiss against my cheek as he gauged my reaction. He moved the finger experimentally, looking at me for any signs of pain or discomfort.

My eyebrows furrowed and eyes fluttered shut, the feeling new and overwhelming.

"How's that?" He cooed, his thumb inching over my bare clit.

"G-Good."

"Can I move?"

"Please." I whimpered quietly, hating to sound needy but needing him regardless.

Taehyung smirked at my request, beginning to pump into me at a steady and quick pace. His name tumbled shakily from my mouth and I reached out to grip onto his bicep.

His mouth found my neck and wasted no time in sucking the skin into his mouth, causing me to whine. I thought briefly to warn him about marks but the thought left my mind quickly at the welcoming of another finger inside me suddenly required all my attention.

I let out a loud moan, the stretch of another finger absolutely wrecking me. The noise was cut off, however, by Taehyung's hand was clamping over my mouth.

Taehyung paused his temporary reign over my neck to face me, "Careful now, wouldn't want your roommates to hear what a lustful angel you really are, now would we?"

And with that, Taehyung released his hand from my mouth and made his way down my body.

My own hands only just managed to muffle the obscene moan that left my mouth the moment Taehyung's tongue met my clit, his fingers continuing to rock into me mercilessly. If it weren't for the need to silence myself, I would've had my hands woven into his hair, urging him to continue his tongue's motions against me.

The was an incredible lewd noise that filled the room as Taehyung's fingers sunk into me, my hips having been pinned down as they jerked against his motions.

"Taehyung, p-please." I cried out, just about tittering along the edge of completion. One more push was all I needed and I needed it so badly.

Taehyung peered up at me, grinning sadistically at my vulnerable state.

"Are you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess of yourself on my fingers?" He teased shoved his fingers reaching knuckle deep and nipped lightly at my clit.

I threw my head back, absolutely lost in the sensations that rained over my body. Incoherent syllables met the palm of my hand pathetic and before I could comprehend what was happening, my climax came over me, my vision clouding over with white spots.

Taehyung let out a hum in approval as he continued to finger me, helping me to ride out my orgasm until I finally found the strength to push his hand away, overcome by oversensitivity.

My chest fell and rose uneasily as Taehyung laid down beside me, perched up on an elbow, watching me come down from my orgasm. He watched me as he cleaned off his fingers, licking them lazily.

"D'you still hate me?" He finally asked.

It took me a moment to comprehend his question, as my attention was fully occupied by the beautiful demon who was currently licking my arousal off his fingers. He was doing it innocently enough but the act still looked positively filthy.

"I can't hate you. You made me cum." I grinned, hoping he'd laugh at me quoting him this time around.

Taehyung gave me smile that looked sad somehow.

"I love you." He said.

My smile dropped, along with my heart as the world all but stopped turning for a moment.

"I think. I'm not actually sure what that means or if I'm even capable of loving someone but... I'm pretty sure this is the closest thing to love I'll ever feel."

"I wanted to tell you yesterday but I was scared of how'd you react. I was– I am scared of loving you. It's, uh, not something that comes naturally to me? In fact, demons avoid it at all costs. I want to be good for you and I want to love you but I don't know how so if I don't do it right– Wait... shit– fuck! I just freaked you out, didn't I? You probably don't love me yet, fuck, that's okay. I don't want to rush you–"

I cut off the poor rambling boy with a kiss. Taehyung froze against my mouth before melting into it.

I pulled away, "I love you too."

Taehyung broke out into the biggest smile and suddenly threw a leg over my waist to hover over me. I let out a happy squeal as he began to pepper my face with kisses.

At that moment in time, everything was okay. I had no idea what was going to happen next and I didn't care.

Because, for just a moment, I was just a girl.

A girl who loved a boy that loved her back.

[gascon-en-exil]

I Liked Fates Before It Was Cool!: A Coda

Prologue

Birthright Finale

Conquest Finale

Revelation Finale

My half-joking aim for this project was that, come next summer when the fandom is collectively dissecting FE16 and scrutinizing its every flaw, I could get the jump on the inevitable re-evaluation of Fates by linking the master post for this series and showing everyone that at least I’ve already put in my work on making that argument. I would be lying if I said that this replay got me to rethink any of my earlier opinions on the game in a big way, but it did help me to recall bits of the experience that I’d forgotten, for better or worse. FE14 is still a game with some major shortcomings, but here’s the thing: in my considerations of Fire Emblem as a franchise I rank Fates alongside the Jugdral and Tellius settings as flawed masterpieces, and while Fates may be the only one of that group to be inarguably more “flawed” than “masterpiece” that’s still saying a lot.

In common with those two settings in particular, Fates is both foundationally unlike anything else in the franchise and makes a strong - if not always well-executed - thematic statement that resonates with what Fire Emblem at its core is about. Every game in the series to one degree or another advances the idea that war is an inevitable result of fallible human nature, and as a result the games’ endings are not happily ever afters so much as temporary resolutions before someone else screws up all over again. On a Doylist level this is a great position for a long-running, messily interconnected game series to take, but I also appreciate it as a realistic take on human nature despite the supernatural trappings of the setting(s). FE14′s basic premise plays into this idea in indirect but intricate ways, as suffering and death result from Corrin’s choice regardless of what it is. The way in which other characters react to the route split highlights the individual shortcomings of people who would be in other games either unambiguous allies of the protagonist or sympathetic but doomed anti-villains. The Camus can be a loyal older brother, the Jagen can be a self-interested traitor, the asshole archer can be a genuine antagonist, and prime secondary protagonist material can turn into a manipulative villain depending on the circumstances caused by a single but significant decision. The route split with its myriad consequences is not only the high point of the game but most likely its greatest contribution to the series as a whole.

And yes, for the most part in these posts I’ve been glossing over the more obviously cringeworthy elements of Fates. Everyone knows about the localization gaffes, the fanservice, the present but highly questionable queer representation, and the various holdover mechanics from FE13 that see the two being frequently lumped together in derision and declared signs of all that is wrong with modern FE...despite, of course, being modern non-remake FE. It’s not feasible to disregard Fates’s status as the followup to Awakening, a game that was designed as a capstone on the series but met with unexpected success and the need for a (spiritual) sequel. I’m obviously glad that the developers decided to continue from that point with such an original concept, even if the game by necessity had to carry over a lot from its predecessor in order to appeal to a similar player base. And even though I’m not the biggest fan of Awakening for a number of reasons, throughout this replay I made note of many of this game’s failings that are entirely its own - writer bias, poor pacing, bizarre contrivances, and so on. Just like Jugdral and Tellius, Fates trips over its inability to invest itself for as long and as thoroughly as needed to suit its own concept, and that’s a much deeper problem than face touching or microwave child soldiers.

But it tries, which continues to be my biggest takeaway from FE14. Sometimes in spite of itself, but it tries. Referring back to my ranking of the games and how FE tier lists used to be argued in the fandom, I’d have a hard time bringing Fates up a slot. It’s right under FE8, and it would be incredibly difficult to compare the ambitious mess that is this game to the well-crafted, self-contained textbook FE that is Sacred Stones. My biggest hope with regard to Three Houses is that the game tries - and succeeds - even more such that I won’t have to make that call because then I might have to ask myself why almost all of the less experimental FEs leave so little impact on me.

[ad-smr]

why it is not good to being overly attached

I used to think that I am not a person that has a tendency to romanticize places or people or memories. I like to take a pictures when I am traveling, but the reason is more into the possibility to upload it to my stories. I have no habit of scrolling back through my google photos to re-create a memory behind every places that I visited. For me, passing through a place for just a day (or even hours!) would be just... passing through a place. Yes it is nice to tell someone that I’ve been visiting place A, place B, place Z, and more and more while also sharing your impression about it. But, do I called it a memory? 

For me, for the past two and a half year in Stockholm, some places are more valuable compared to any landmarks that I visited around Europe. I grew some emotional attachments to those places because of various reasons. It could be just a street that I frequently passing by every time I went outside for a pokemon hunting. Or it could be a super cheap supermarket behind my neighborhood that I just discovered after lived there for one and a half year. How could they are so memorable? Because for me, they created stories. A story that is so personal for me, which is why visiting these places again some days in the future, could pinch many parts of my heart in a hurtful way. Oh, yes, these places brought up too many memories.

It all started in a street in the back side of my house, which by 15 minutes walking could take you to the Sundbybergs centrum. It is a street that I usually passed by if I was still addicted to Pokemon go - a kind of game that requires you to go outside to catch many pokemons in term of finishing quests. Walked by this street was so nice, especially in the summer. In one part, the street is located right in front of the graveyard, but it never makes this street spooky. I also passed by this street if I was too energetic to travel by bike (even though that hilly conditions sometimes made me questioning my decision). A street will be just a street, if one particular person did not take part in the story. 

The last time I went there, where he was already lived 10.000 km away, I still felt that little pinch in my heart because it replayed some non-important moments with him. It is a same street where we spent two hours of pokemon chasing in a 10 degree temperature and with a condition where we were totally put a high boundaries between us. We talked many things about nothing. It is also a same street where we ended up cycling through it around midnight, after tried to avoid it but thanks google for screwed up the plan. It is also a street where we took our last autumn photo together.

The story continue to a safe house called Akalla. It is a house that rented out together by my four (used to be five) friends in Stockholm. It took 30 minutes cycling from Rissne but, you know, I was that lazy so I usually went there by bus. I must say that Akalla was considerably one of the best thing in my entire life in Stockholm. I did not manage to visit this place again last time since they were already moved out and the house owner kept it back. Akalla, for me, was one of the reason why I am still sane until now.

It was a place where I could runaway from him every time we got into problems. Which means, I went there frequently. All of the house members already declared me as the fifth (or sixth) occupants of Akalla. It was a place where I could laugh and say anything without being judged. It was also a place where I could get the needed support from people that actually never intended to give one. It was a place where I could be totally happy and forget all my troubles with him. 

Then I remembered that I used to hate the studio space in the A building. I hate it because it is sooo dry, even during the winter climate. There is something wrong with the heating system in the building and everyone was complaining too. However, nothing changed until my last semester in that building. Flash back to my first year in Stockholm, we (as it means me and some other Indonesian students maybe three to five people), liked to stay in the D building after class. The main purpose: to study more. The reality, it was just our excuse to avoid being alone at home. We usually spent too much time there, at least until midnight even we still had an early class tomorrow morning.

At some point, D building turned into a place that I could not wait to visit ASAP every evening. Of course, and just because, he waited for me there. During a very happy moment between us, meeting him after a long and stressful discussion with the group mates, was a time that I always looking for. We changed our habit to stay until late into went back home early to prepare our dinner. We also decided to spend much longer time in his room, talked about everything that still means anything. That was the time before some errors occurred in this relationship. That was the time when I did not realized that I started to grow a feeling for him. And his too.

So... it brought this reminisce to the most hurtful place that, I believe, I cannot visit again in the future without seeing a glimpse of him every time I close my eyes. My home. Its kitchen. Its bathroom. His room. Mine. 

There were many times during the last two years where I felt that I could not stand more to stay in this house. It could be one of the days where we had that endless arguments and silent treatments. For a range of three days till two months, there were too many moments where we decided to avoid each other's presence - totally. I could hear his morning alarms (that always rang repeatedly every 30 minutes and failed to wake him up) and heard him singing under the shower, knowing he was there and perfectly alive, without even ran to each other. And it was a worst feeling where you decided to avoid someone that you cared the most. But on the other occasion, this house turns into home. That was the very first moment I understand the differences between a house and a home. Absolutely, because there was him. The only reason that made all things happened inside this house as a projection of my future home, which is ended up as a sloppy imagination of mine. 

Since the very first time I entered the front door last week, zillions of memories dancing in my eyes. Thousand of unimportant details that were unconsciously stored in my brain particles suddenly play random short videos, just like when you swiping your instagram stories. His smile when his eyes caught mine, in the middle of his cooking session in the kitchen. Our laugh when we cut each other hair in our super small bathroom, since we were not rich enough to spend money on a professional barber. A six hours discussion about Tenet and parallel universe. His sleepyhead expression in the morning. His last hug that made me feel totally safe because I deluded myself that there will be always someone that protect me. 

Those reminiscence hurts me in a way that suddenly turned all my memories in Stockholm into a bad one.

Because he was always there, on my side, in almost every moments when I was wandering around Stockholm. Even in the farthest forest in the Djugården island and a random naked beach in, oh I don’t remember the place’s name. So now, I get my lesson. Never attached to someone or places too much. This is because, just because, if it does not end up well.. everything could be hurtful for you. And what is sadder than when your good memories turned into a bad one because of an unworthy person?

[allonsysilvertongue]

Hawkins: The Upside - Questions and Answers

Request: Joyce is looking after El one day and she asks about Hopper and what kind of relationship do they have because it’s not clear to El (and probably not to them either). Later when Hopper comes up to pick up El she asks again and they have to confront their feelings and maybe just maybe bring up what happened on chapter 7. Idk I thought it would be nice for them at least acknowledge the feelings. No need for them to actually get together or anything just so they know it’s there

I couldn’t find the ask so I think this might be a prompt request someone left me at ff.net 

Hawkins: The Upside - Questions and Answers

Joyce had declared bedtime an hour ago and had finally settled down on the sofa with a glass of wine that Karen had given her from a month ago. With her head thrown back and her eyes closed, she let out a sigh of relief.

She loved having Jane over. She really do but Will had taken her to Castle Byers earlier where they had been holed up for hours and even though Joyce knew where they were at all times she still couldn’t feel that jolt of anxiety every now and again that something might happen.

Not when Will’s parting words to her before they left the house was, “I’m showing El the palace. She wants to see the place she found me when you asked her to look for me in the school gym. Well, she’s seen it but it was in the Upside Down. It’s different now… here.”

They tended to do that, sit together someplace just the both of them, talking. Sometimes she wondered what they talked about. Other times, Will or Jane would open up and share it with her.

Her eyes fluttered open when she heard the soft padded footsteps. Turning her head to the right, she saw Jane coming out of guest room – a room Joyce had by now thought of as hers – and walking towards her.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she nodded, taking a seat next to Joyce with her legs folded underneath her. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Just close your eyes and start counting, you will fall asleep.”

She felt the weight of the girl pressing against her side so just like she would have done with her sons, Joyce stretched her arm around Jane’s small frame. The girl looked up at her with a smile and scooted closer, resting her head on Joyce’s shoulder.

The television in front of them was playing some late night soap opera which Jane was clearly fond of. For a while, they both watched it quietly.

“Are you and … dad,” she said the word with such care, still trying to familiarise herself with using the word to describe who Hopper is to her, “friends?”

Joyce blinked, her eyes still focused on the television before she fully processed Jane’s question.

“Of course, we are.”

Jane tugged on the loose thread of the pajama, finding something to distract herself.

“Is he your only friend?”

“I wouldn’t say that… I’m friends with Karen. Mike’s mom…”

“That doesn’t count,” the girl declared. “She’s a lady, like you. Dad’s like your boyfriend.”

The last thing Joyce expected that night was to hear Hopper being labelled as such in relation to her. She sputtered.

Jane pulled away, watching her with a slight crease on her brows. She reached over and patted Joyce’s back, the way she had seen Joyce do to Will or Jonathan or Hopper when they coughed.

“Hopper… No,” Joyce shook her head. “Not in that sense. I mean… Yeah, he is my friend who happens to be a man but – but he is not the only male friend I have.”

“Really?”

She sounded highly sceptical that Joyce felt the need to somewhat prove herself. “There’s Ted Wheeler, Mike’s dad.”

Tilting her head contemplatively to the side, Jane said, “I’ve never seen Mike’s dad at this house. Not like us. You don’t make coffee or give him beer and you don’t go to the porch with Mike’s dad to smoke. You do that with my dad. Mike’s dad doesn’t even come when you can’t sleep. He doesn’t help you fix you leaking pipe. My dad did when you toilet is full of water. Oh! Mike’s dad doesn’t play games with you or Will or me. Why are you friends with Mr Wheeler but different than with my dad?”

That, Joyce decided, was a solid observation and a good point. It never ceased to amaze her the way the mind of children and teenagers work. They tended to view the world from a different perspective. One that, at times, could be alarming; like this one, for instance.

“It’s never the same between two people, Jane. I – I think there are never two friendships that is the same. The way it is with you and… with you and Lucas, or you with Dustin, or you with Max. You are friends with them but not the way you are friends with Will. You share something with Will that you don’t talk about with Dustin or Lucas because they don’t understand, not really. Or, your friendship with Mike…”

“Mike is a special friend.”

“Yes, he is to you.”

Her frown deepened. “Is my dad your special friend?”

She really should have seen that coming. The entire conversation was leading to that and yet, Joyce still stared at her, her mind running a mile a minute.

“I supposed,” she nodded slowly.

Her gaze landed on the walkie-talkie on the coffee table, one with a pair that Hopper possessed. It had been Will’s and Jane’s idea to gift them with walkie-talkies back during Christmas of ’84. It would solve the problem of Joyce calling the house or the station trying to reach Hopper and save Flo the trouble of having to answer multiple calls from Joyce Byers looking for Jim Hopper. The only reason Hopper was amenable to the idea was so he could check in on Jane when he had to work nights.

“I supposed he is,” Joyce went on, reaching out to lightly touch the walkie-talkie, not realising that Jane was watching.

He had talked her through it one night when she had woken in cold sweat, the scene of Bob’s death replaying over and over again each time she closed her eyes. He had listened, wherever he was at that time, as she recounted the nightmare. He had been her rock, all these time, through everything – her mother’s death, her father’s, holding Lonnie back to stop him from attacking her when he found out she had served the divorce paper on his mistress doorstep since he wouldn’t come home for days, her son’s disappearance, Will’s possession, Bob’s death.

He had been there through the good ones too. Moments like her birthdays, graduating middle school and going into high school together, concerts of their favourite bands… She smiled fondly at the memory of them working extra shifts at the Hammond’s diner just so they could buy concert tickets.

“So he is your boyfriend.”

“He’s not. I don’t know where you get all these ideas but – It’s complicated, sweetheart. It’s not something that is easy to explain.”

“Why? What’s difficult?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions about Hopper, Jane?”

She huffed looking a little angry now.

“Dustin asked me. He asked if you and Chief are together. I said yes because we are always here and you are always together with him. But Mike said that isn’t what Dustin meant. He wanted to know if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend, like Lucas and Max, and if my dad is going to be Will’s dad and if you’re going to be my mom – like Max’s family. Then Lucas said you and dad have to get married first but before that you have to be together. I didn’t know what they were all saying, sometimes they talk too fast. I get confused. I thought I’d ask you. You’ll always help me.”

She was glad it was beyond midnight and the overhead lamp in the living room was quite dim because she was sure she was flushed with embarrassment at the thought of her and Hopper being the topic of conversation for these teenagers.

“That boy, Dustin, is far too curious for his own good.”

Jane laughed then and Joyce managed to convince her to try and get some sleep. She should have known that Jane was persistent and since she couldn’t get an answer out of her, she tried Hopper the very next day when he came to pick her up.

“But why?” she insisted when Hopper evaded answering the question. “She said the same thing! Why is it complicated? I like Mike and Mike likes me. Mike makes me… He makes me happy.”

“Yeah?” Hopper glanced at her at the passenger seat. “That’s good.”

“He’s my special friend.”

“Yeah, don’t get too special, though.”

“So?” she frowned, ignoring that comment and choosing to circle back to the crux of the matter.

“It just is, okay? Adults are – There are just things between us that doesn’t make it easy. Look, if it’s up to me, I wish it was as simple as you and the Wheeler boy. It was simpler when we were kids, back when we were just a little older than you.”

“How simple?”

“Simple like…. There are no baggage and personal issues to deal with. We were just … free. We were just us.”

“Baggage? What’s that mean? Just us?”

Hopper sighed loudly, resigning himself to the barrage of questions.

[davewakeman]

Talking Tickets 10 April 2020: StubHub! Viagogo! National Rugby League! And, More!

Hey There!

Thanks for being here again this week.

Is everyone good? Let me know!

I know the weeks are likely dragging and the news can be a bit depressing, but I just want y’all to know I’m here if you need me.

If you are enjoying this newsletter, tell your friends and colleagues to sign up by visiting this link.

If you are interested, I’ve set up a Slack Channel and I’m finally starting to figure out how to be engaging in there. We’ve got folks in all kinds of areas like venues, tickets, secondary, and more.

As this week is Passover and Easter, if you are celebrating, my thoughts are with you and your families!

To the tickets!

———————————————————————————————— 1. Can the business of sports survive the coronavirus? 

I have to say that I actually took a walk to get this story in a physical copy because I didn’t want to miss it.

Where my thinking has been the last week or two isn’t so much how things will be different, but how will they remain the same.

I think there are a few things you really have to think about:

Historically, things rebound to something that resembles normal more times than not.

This virus and the financial crisis created by it is highlighting some areas of weakness.

The biggest challenge that folks are likely to encounter going forward will be due to trends that were already evident but folks were not taking action on or were not looking at like declining attendance, the purchasing power of fans, and the need for better marketing and branding.

I’ve been working on a longer piece collecting all of my thoughts, but it is taking me a little longer to get it all together.

We’ve definitely seen that seemingly invincible teams, leagues, and organizations are on weaker footing than we might have imagined…and I think the big opportunity is going to be in solving that problem.

Do I think sports business will survive? Yes.

Do I think everything will be different? No.

Do I think trends that should have been getting attention all along will be the ones that cause the greatest pain over the next year or two? Absolutely!

What’s your take?

2. Viagogo lays off a lot of staff and it is probably just the start of a tough period for a lot of folks:

170 people being put on protective notice for 30 days is, unfortunately, likely the start of a longer more painful challenge for Viagogo. Because if you follow the trends in the Asian countries that were dealing with the coronavirus earlier on, you’ll see that they had shutdowns starting in January and their events haven’t started coming back online yet and my friend, Greg Turner, from China says that it is likely going to be May before things really start to get fully back to normal.

That just means that in Europe and the States, we have had much less aggressive mitigation tactics in a lot of places…so to expect that magically our events are going to come back on a faster timeline is likely unrealistic.

This is one of those things for my US readers should be especially painful as we still don’t have a complete stay-at-home order for the entire country and no clear unified plan for dealing with the coronavirus.

A 50 different state plan likely just means we are going to be struggling through this shutdown.

Why?

Because as long as a significant number of folks in the States are getting sick, likely in any part of the country, people will be afraid and if they are afraid, they are not going to events, concerts, and sports. I think you see this in the examples that Andrew Cuomo uses when he talks about the return of Broadway on June 7.

So despite rosy proclamations from Donald Trump, I think we August or September is likely a more realistic timeline to plan for based on available information and using other countries’ experiences.

Though the National Rugby League is going to try and start back up on 28 May. The AFL is looking at putting teams in zones that could start as early as June…at which point, I could be entirely wrong.

And, the Bundesliga is thinking of doing fan free games even earlier.

Let’s hope I am.

Who should my Bundesliga team be?

3. We still are going to have to grapple with how quickly fans and guests will return:

When we are dealing with something without precedent, we don’t really have anything to judge likely outcomes against.

Lo and behold, we are facing something that we’ve never had to deal with before and so we have no way of knowing what to really expect.

I know that folks are likely to push to get events up and running as quickly as possible…I mean, I’m totally ready for some Premier League action.

But we also have to consider the damage that might be done by coming back too soon with fans in the stands.

I do like the consideration that the Oak View Group is giving to cleanliness as a safety issue and the idea that you are going to have to have some sort of seal of approval in the near term to give folks peace of mind. But I’d also add that while OVG’s CEO, Tim Leiweke, talks about partnering with organizations that ensure hospitals are clean, that hospitals are notorious for being havens for viruses and there are many cases annually of folks getting sick from contamination during hospital visits. This just means I would challenge folks to think bigger and badder…because the opportunities are likely huge.

And, the downside of someone getting sick at a show or game in the near term is likely to be huge!

4. StubHub and refunds stay in the news this week:

How to approach the story of refunds, postponements, cancellations, and doing right by the customer has been one of the things I’ve been scratching my head about for the last week or two.

I know the economics of the ticket business. I was always iffy about the amount of debt that Live Nation was carrying as they touted “greatest quarter ever” or whatever they said each quarter. And, I recognize that the envelope on on-sale dates, restrictions on tickets, and refunds for a while.

Tim Chambers has called it “postponement as a strategy” and I think the backlash on this could be severe.

StubHub is now facing a lawsuit, bad press, and the suspicion that they’ll have to declare bankruptcy…which could really wipe out fans.

5. A few random observations to close out this week: 

I wanted to highlight a few fun things at the end of this one because so many of the stories this week have been far too heavy.

First, one of the greatest PR dunks I’ve ever seen came from the NHL as their coronavirus response is covered comparing to the NBA. The PR person at the NHL that pitched this idea and got it through deserves a huge raise!

Second, the WWE did a crowd less, two-night Wrestlemania spectacular. People watched it. Gronk seemed to be a hit and I was amused because I think the last time I watched wrestling, people still acted like it was real. WWE and wrestling is the most amazing thing!

Third, Amy Kline and her Corona Choir have T-shirts! Amy has gotten a lot of press for bringing her neighborhood together to sing during the coronavirus and now they have created T-shirts with proceeds going to support another member of the ticketing community who has lost income due to the shutdown.

Finally, I’m a resource for your coronavirus break! Besides the shameless plug for me, Activity Stream has put together a great resource with a bunch of different ways you can learn and improve during this downtime.

—————————————————————————————————————-

What am I up to this week?

Check out my blog at DaveWakeman.com and my website. I’ll probably have a couple of new pieces up this week.

Check out the back episodes of my podcast. I’m going to share the audio files of my webinar series there starting over the next few days.

I did a great live podcast with Andy Romero-Birkbeck yesterday on mental health, mindfulness, and sleep. You can get the replay of it here. It was my first live podcast where the audio was shared in real time, but I think it turned out very well.

I’m also doing a new webinar this week on Tuesday about rethinking your ticket business’s strategy after the coronavirus. Folks want more strategy! I’m here for y’all!

Finally, join me and my buddy, Ken Troupe, and a bunch of folks from around the world for a cocktail this afternoon at 5 PM EDT. We are hosting a virtual happy hour. You can make fun of me and Ken, have a drink, make some friends, it will be great! Ken promises me the link works this week.

Please follow and like us:

Talking Tickets 10 April 2020: StubHub! Viagogo! National Rugby League! And, More! was originally published on Wakeman Consulting Group