#writing this all out i think i prefer option 1

[alexanderwales]

youve spoken in the past about how in webfic its preferable for works to be +1 million words long and how they seem to be the norm. this seems to be a relatively recent phenomena, that of the writer who writes specifically gigantic multivolume doorstoppers, as opposed to the past where it was more common to write relatively short self contained books, do you agree that this is a recent phenomena and if it is why would you say that it is happening?

I think there's been a long history of continuation pressure of all kinds, it's just been different depending on the material conditions.

Dickens published The Pickwick Papers serially in 1836, and expanded it in scope because it was immensely popular, and because he was writing a serial, he was able to adjust to demands. Arthur Conan Doyle is my other go-to example, because the Holmes stories kept being written, became a brand, had their own continuity issues, etc. The complete works come in at ~400k words, which is small by webfic behemoth standards, but not that small, and Doyle notably kind of hated Holmes and stopped writing him for a while until public and economic pressure forced him to come back to the character.

As you go forward in time, printing technology gets better, publishing systems change, and you get even more of these super long continuations, e.g. Tarzan, whose complete works are 1.5 million words -- almost a Worm!

A big part of what makes this happen is that readers have lots of options, but are routinely disappointed by new things, making them gravitate toward "safe bets". Writers do not tend to be visible or brands, so if someone reads something they really adored and then the author comes out with another book, there's a good chance the reader just ... doesn't read it? Which means that there's pressure on authors to keep going within the same world. I'm not steeped in pulp serials, but many of them were long runners.

Where webfic often differs is that the frame is that this is all "one story", and also, that it can be a lot longer, but I think it's largely the combination of the same pressures, only moreso. When you write webfic, you're competing against a very very wide field, and when you read webfic, the signal to noise ratio is especially terrible. And where before "a book" was the most coherent structure because that's how words got to people, now having one long narrative with "arcs" that only mostly resemble the rise and fall of books makes more sense. Chapters are the size they are because of logistical reasons (long enough for a reader to get invested, short enough that the author can produce them at a regular clip). And arranging things by books means that there's a definied stopping place, which you don't want. You don't want to give the reader a place where they say "nah, that was fine, but I'm out".

The ballooned size of webfic, to me, is the result of a lot of things, but financial and attention incentives is the major one, and the rest comes down to ease of production and consumption. Yet I do still think there's a lot that sprawl and longtermism has to recommend it, and that this is one of the things web serial authors are getting better at, leveraging the specific ways in which the unending behemoth species of fiction can best accomplish the goal of entertaining readers, and all the stuff that's just not possible when you're confined to a novel.

And eventually, an author runs out of things to say, or enthusiasm for a project, or the readership dwindles because they don't have the stomach for something that long either, and you get something new and fresh as the old story is (hopefully) put to bed.

[kamaluhkhan]

okay SO ive been thinking about my new luke x poseidon!reader series and ive had some thoughts....read more under the cut + vote for ur preference 🌊

more under the cut!!

option 1 will be within the pjo universe, but with some major changes. for one, reader is the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the prophecy. there would be no luke betrayal; instead, they grew up together, fought side by side, and had feelings for each other that they'd try to deny. reader left after defeating kronos, started a band (if you read my nemesis!reader series, specifically this chapter, you know the vibes), lost touch with most ppl. a few years later, things go south and she returns to camp half-blood to keep a low profile for the summer. this option would include lots of summer camp fluff + nostalgia, angst about the gods/prophecies, in universe references to events + character cameos. the general dynamic would be luke and reader dealing with the aftermath of the war in completely different ways that cause them to grow apart, and then this summer maybe starting to bridge that gap.

i realize this option leans more towards a camp rock x the summer i turned pretty × percy jackson plot. what i like about it is that i can play around with pjo (and maybe even heroes of olympus 👀) lore, but it's not what i initially had planned and idk how to decide things lol.

also i picture this set in the late 1990s/early 2000s: reader and luke sending texts through flip phones, sharing flannels and graphic tees, burning cds with the newest paramore or green day, etc. im also thinking about that one scene in sea of monsters where percy PRINTS a picture that annabeth sent of her at the golden gate bridge and puts it in his notebook. the equivalent of that would be luke ripping out a magazine article about you and the band and hanging it up next to his bed.

option 2 would be more of a modern au! no demigod lore, and set in 2022/2023. it would essentially be the same as my tsitp series, i would just change the names and adjust a few things, maybe add some fun references where i can. reader would have grown up spending her summers in long island with luke, thalia, percy, and annabeth. she and luke are the oldest. reader is a competitive swimmer in college (that's where the poseidon dna comes in) so drifts away for a few years, while luke is taking on a lot of responsibility as his mom gets sick. after an injury, reader returns to long island for the summer and things get....tense? interesting?

again, this would be very very similar to my conrad fisher series in terms of plot. i think of option 1 as taking the character dynamics of that series (eldest siblings with too much responsibility, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, summer nostalgia) and putting it into a pjo universe, while this one (option 2) is closer to the original plot.

with that said....

++ if u made it this far and read through my ramblings + voted, thank u sm 💓💓

[icewindandboringhorror]

Other Misc. Rambling Thoughts on the topic:

(~ !!!!!!!!! if you're just reblogging this post for the Poll section, please reblog the original post without this addition* lol. ~)

(*not that there's anything super personal or weird about the addition, just that it's meant to be kind of casual Side Commentary, not really part of the Main Point Of The Poll, so it would feel kind of weird for it to be emphasized by being included in reblogs unless the reblogs were explicitly about the side commentary, etc..... if that makes sense.. ANYWAY!)

It's neat to read the written descriptions that people are mentioning in the tags, since it's almost like I can see or conceptualize the idea as well, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING it.

Like for example: I can imagine a vase, it's a muted mint green and slightly translucent, elaborate golden birds sprawled down the side in streaks of thin rough watery paint, the base material shimmers gently in the light, there's a small chip where it's cracked on the handle, etc, etc. .. But as I'm thinking about this I see literally nothing.

It seems like perhaps some people can visualize an object first, and THEN describe what they see. But I sort of work backwards. I am building the object in my mind, I can never see it, but it's a collection of concepts. Rather than visualizing all details as a whole at once, I am adding each detail one by one, building onto the IDEA of the thing.

The vase doesn't have a crack on the handle because I just automatically visualized a vase with a crack. It was more that I cognitively understand the concept of a vase, what they tend to be made out of, how they tend to look and feel, the properties they have. So based purely on that knowledge, I can imagine "a chip is something that a vase could have, it would look this way and behave this way" - more like... I'm constructing a bullet point Fact List about the object rather than seeing it.

So if you tell me to imagine an object, I can, in a way, imagine that object in great detail, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING those details, more just knowing it's qualities in a purely conceptual way. Sometimes in the tags when people are like "yeah I can see the skin of the apple, texture, little dots on the surface" it's like… I can imagine that too, I can know it's there, but just with no visual attached.

I guess rather than SEEING something and going ''ah. I know what this looks like because I have seen it''. I more just skip that visual step entirely and go ''I know what this looks like, I just randomly have a list of information about the concept in my mind.'' etc. Maybe similar to how sometimes in dreams, even though a house may look completely different and be in an entirely fake 'dreamlike' environment, you just somehow KNOW intuitively that it's meant to be your childhood home or something. Even when it looks nothing like it in reality. There's a built-in base knowledge of the properties or information of some things within a dreaming mind, etc.

--

This also makes me wonder about like.. how storytelling and myth is so important to cultures all across time. Or how this could tie also into concepts of religion.. etc. etc. If so many people really can kind of conjure these vivid images in their mind, then maybe that's part of why certain things are so meaningful to them? Like a "religious experience" being something you can actually really SEE/feel/lingering with you in your head, rather than just abstract words on a page, detached purely theoretical ideas, etc... hmmm

.

Plus also just for average emotional stuff too, even outside of broader cultural conceptual attachments..

Like, I don't think there's a direct 1 to 1 link (obviously not all people with mental illnesses that significantly reduce their emotional or expressive capacity also MUST have aphantasia or vice versa), but it's interesting as someone who DOES also have a much more lessened emotional range/pretty flat affect/etc. etc. to think like.. Maybe I WOULD be more emotional, in a way, if I could have these vivid experiences..?

Perhaps memories would hold deeper significance if they could really stay with me vividly. Or storytelling would evoke more of a deep emotional reaction to me if I could really picture and feel the things that are going on. If things were more TANGIBLE in my brain, rather than always merely conceptual highly abstracted ideas.

Kind of like, it's probably easier to get over the death of a pet or something, if after not seeing them for an hour you already don't remember what they looked like (beyond just a vague fact list of traits), and you have no vivid memories or mental reminders of them (beyond just factual information stores). COGNTIVIELY you can appreciate the idea of their absence, of course, you still miss them, but there's just no remaining visceral sensory ties. A very "out of sight, out of mind" sort of thing in terms of attachments, memories, emotions, etc. Maybe certain things are easier to "get over", when you're not having constant mental sensory reminders that occasionally rekindle your feelings about the event or etc.??

(like for example, maybe someone could remain angry about an argument longer if they could vividly replay it in their head over and over again. VS just like.. 'Yes I can factually recall the fact I had an argument, and I do have knowledge stored about what precisely was said, but any sort of sensory data such as sights/smells/feelings, etc. from the actual moment of the event are long gone and can never be conjured again in my mind." etc.)

Which again, I think lessened emotional permanence and image permanence in the mind are NOT inherently linked, can all be caused by different things for different people. And, since I can't visualize anything in my head, maybe I'm misunderstanding how it happens and the effect it may have on stuff like remembering things you miss or replaying arguments, etc. etc. But it's still a little interesting to think about, if they could influence each other to some degree.... :0c --

Lastly, It's also weird because I'm actually pretty good at estimating distance and spaces? I can quickly assemble furniture without an instruction manual, pretty easily have a concept of how much space a chair may take up in a room, how two mechanical parts might fit together - BUT, I am literally not actually visualizing anything. I cannot see 3D objects in my mind at ALL. It's like.. just based on the pure List Of Facts About Things Which I Have Observed.. I can intuitively go "oh this works like this/this is this size" just because.. I know it's that size. I don't have to see anything to know..?

But then on the other hand, I'm terrible at directions without a map (I guess because a 3d outdoor environment has WAY more complexity than like.. "Will this square fit into another square?"etc. lol ).

BUT, I also draw/sculpt/etc. entirely without references, and seem to do mostly okay at that..? Like.. I can't even remember the last time I actually used a reference or looked at anything whilst drawing. It's all muscle memory, and me just adjusting as I go until something "looks right" on paper, I never have a set image in my head (or external reference) before hand.. Hrmm....

AND.. I used to say that I had a photographic memory when I was younger, which I know NOW is not true (I always thought it was just an expression, not that people could literally see things in a photographic way). But what I was describing is, I do often associate information with imagery, just... without imagery....

Like "Oh, I know that I took my medicine earlier today because I have a distinct memory, a snapshot of a moment in time, of me rattling the pill bottle in my hands as I looked up at a stop sign while in the back seat of a car". When I say this, I can't ACTUALLY see/feel/hear a pill bottle, or vividly picture a stop sign, but it's more just a factual recall, of. Even though I don't see these things, I know they happened, the information of them happening (me hearing a sound and also looking at a stop sign at the same time) has been stored in my brain as a memory, a collection of linked facts. --

As for other senses, I cannot taste or feel anything in my head AT ALL.. wild that some people mention that. I mean, again, I can have a purely factual recall as if reading a textbook, knowing the information of 'X item typically has X texture, therefore I can imagine what it may be like to feel it' or 'X usually has this taste' etc. - but I can never actually experience those senses in any capacity in my mind alone. I would say audio is my strongest mental sense (maybe a 2.5 or 3 (if it were translated onto the above scale where 1 is most vivid and 5 is nothing)), then visual (4.5 at most, usually 5), and then taste and smell and such are just complete 5, absolutely nothing, I didn't even know people could experience taste or feeling just in their mind alone.. lol...

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 1

summary - an undercover mission creates distance between you and spencer, but his hands on your waist closes it.

genre - fem!shyish!reader x spencer, forced proximity, fake relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, general cm violence and gore, spencer and reader are both awkwardly in love with each other and don’t know it yet, mentions of trafficking

w/c - 3.5k

a/n - was writing this in one part and realised i just couldn’t. *jennifer coolidge aoughhe* sorry that its a bit inconsistent with writing style, and its not my best. trying to get back into writing fics longer than 1k.

part two

A familiar scene, an unfamiliar circumstance. The breath mint you swirled around your mouth had now disintegrated in your surprised stillness, your boss Aaron Hotchner passed you a thick case file with an attentive glance. Spencer cleared his throat, “At parties?” 

“Yes,” your boss’ hard voice returned, “The girls are swapped at banquets and ballroom dances, disguised as simple partner swapping.” Aaron turned towards the large panel screen and motioned towards an ID photo of a balding man. “This is Quinn Webley, he controls all transactions and coordinates the parties and most importantly, security.” 

“That’s why Reid and Y/L/n will be undercover. No offence but you two aren’t very noticeable,” Rossi added onto Hotch’s explanation, earning a small snort from Morgan.

There was no doubt more reasons to be chosen than that. Morgan was too impulsive, Emily could get hot-headed, JJ wasn’t trained for it, and Rossi and Hotch simply had to make sure everything went well from the outside. You and Spencer were the best options for this type of case, not only because of your skill, because of the obvious chemistry that you and Spencer shared. “Now, you’re not to make contact with Webley, all you have to do is watch him and everyone else. Pay close attention to couples, older men in small groups, and to the dances that might take place.” Hotch was not giving you or Spencer a chance to object, or to deject the idea. This was set, no negotiation. Not that you would want to be replaced in this case, it was just the fact that you were: 1. A terrible dancer, and 2. Not the most extroverted person. You nodded along, opening the case to create a personal profile of the women who were trafficked, before the discussion had come to a close, and everyone left the room to start collecting their things. 

Spencer cleared his throat, bringing you out of your analysis to meet his warm eyes. Suddenly, the easy-going banter you and Spencer shared had evaporated, replaced by suffocating silence. He didn’t meet your gaze back, only muttering in the silence, “Can I assume you want me to take the lead on this one?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You smile smally, trying to melt the ice that had somehow solidified between you two. Spencer was awkward, introverted, preferred alone time, but you were shy, quiet, and verbally uncoordinated (and physically). 

He nodded and exited the room, sighing off nerves that had piled themselves onto his shoulders since finding out he’d have to go undercover with the one girl he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with. He didn’t think the case would ruin your friendship, but it could make it harder for him to keep it that way.

Spencer stood straight with Derek peering over his shoulder and into the mirror. Derek picked at some dust on Spencer’s suit jacket as the nervous boy attempted to loop his tie neatly. 

Derek chuckles under his breath and turns the boy by his shoulders to face him, lifting his strong hands to help Spencer with the dark crimson red tie. Spencer silently thanked him with a nod.

“What are you so nervous about, Spencer?” He asked, half joking half serious, “It’s just an undercover mission. You’ve done this plenty of times.” 

“Not like this,” Spencer quickly replied, “Not with…” Her. You. 

Derek opened his mouth slightly and nodded, finally understanding the true reason for Spencer’s bouncing leg and sweaty hands. 

“Don’t freak out too much okay? You need to act like you love her, which won’t be too hard- But you need to do it without looking like you’re afraid of her.” Derek finished tying Reid’s tie and patted him on the chest as a hype up, smiling at him brotherly like. He knew Spencer’s feelings for you, that he liked you. A lot. 

He didn’t know Spencer wouldn’t have to act like he loves you. Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously and turned to the mirror again, taking his eyes over his slightly unfamiliar reflection. 

The suit is tailored perfectly to his body, making him look trim, lean, and tall. Derek handed him a black bottle of cologne and headed for the door, before a sudden question stopped him.

“Do you… do you think she’s too good for me?” Spencer looked at Derek with big eyes, blinking rapidly. The man stood in slight shock before laughing away the silence, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Spencer wasn’t accusing him of anything, it was a genuine question. Spencer thought he was lesser, less than what you deserved - even if it was just for a night. 

“Pretty boy, I think she’s happier to be doing this than you know. I think she likes you- I know she likes you-“

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Uh uh uh. No. Trust me, Reid,” Derek opened the hotel door and gestured for Spencer to follow him, “If you don’t trust me, ask her yourself.”

The girls whistled loudly at you like a bunch of old men when you emerged from the bathroom. You spun on your heel (which was way too tall for your liking) to entertain the ladies, JJ clapping her hands together and Garcia smiling so hard you felt your own cheeks burn. 

“Why do fake couples always have to be straight, huh?” Emily joked, and you giggled back at her. You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face a standing mirror in the corner of the fancy hotel. 

Your body was wrapped in a silky red, floor length dress, with wide and long sleeves draping over your covered arms like a cloud surrounds a mountain. It cinched at your waist, and stopped at just the right length to expose your 4 inch, black heels. You couldn’t deny that you looked incredible, although your nerves were playing with your head. 

“You look stunning,” Garcia repeated what she said when she was doing your makeup - simple and accentuating - when she noticed your slight anxiety.

Dressing up like this and wearing makeup and styling hair? Not your thing. It’s not that you didn’t like it - you loved being girly. It was just your own insecurities and personal preferences that caused you to wear sweaters and sneakers (anything that wouldn’t bring attention to yourself). 

The girls knew this, and dressed you simply and modestly so as to not add to your nerves that an undercover mission usually invites, and you appreciated it greatly. Although the heels were really high.

You were especially nervous to present yourself like this in front of him.

That’s why you fiddled your hands together, why you looked yourself over in the mirror three times before leaving, why you let the girls completely take over your look. 

You walked out into the hallway, pushing some hair behind your shoulder and letting the other side drape, still getting used to walking in those heels, when you were met with more whistles and compliments. Aaron nodded at you, knowing how abrasive you were to the idea at first, and Rossi and Morgan both asked you to give them a spin - and you did. 

The encouragement lifted your spirits slightly, a smile exploding from your face as a soft blush covered it. This is probably the best you’ve looked in front of them. 

“Where’s her date?” JJ asked, she mentioned that Morgan had the job of matching Spencer’s tie but she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t worry, he’s got on the best dark red tie that we could find. He’s downstairs in the foyer.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before Hotch added, “You have to leave together just in case. Precautions, okay?” 

Spencer swapped the position of his hands at least five times in a minute, glancing at the elevator in the all too fancy hotel every time someone emerged from it. He adjusted his tie, and sniffed his wrists to make sure he smelt good for you. He always made sure of it, after you offhandedly mentioned to Emily how smells could either make or break your day. 

You had a lot in common with Spencer, other than the obvious career choice. You were both… weird. Talkative around each other, silent around others. Shy, but confident in your abilities. You both had your things - your’s is smell, his is germs.

And luckily, whenever you went to Spencer’s apartment to drop off or pick up a book, his place always smelt like cleaning products and cologne.

Though now, he smelt like cedar wood and smoke. You tapped him on the back, nerves rushing through you like a teenager on her first date. He jumps slightly, not hearing the last elevator ding in his own worries, and turns on his heels - nearly bumping into you. 

“Woah.” He let that simple word slip before he could even bite his tongue, and a red wash painted his cheeks and ears.

You looked stunning, and Spencer was simply awestruck. 

You pushed a straightened piece of hair behind your ears and smiled shyly down at your feet, not letting yourself look at him for too long in fear that you’d melt into a puddle. Spencer cleared his throat to contain himself, and held out his arm for you to thread your own through. 

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.” You ask timidly - very unlike how you normally were around him. You avoided taking his arm, scared he’d feel uncomfortable with the contact before he straightened his back and reluctantly pulled your elbow through his. 

“Just nervous, you look-“ He coughed, “Nice.” 

A smile slipped from you as you thanked him quietly, the two of you heading out the large foyer doors and towards a black limousine.

The ride was mostly silent other than the quiet music playing from the radio. And despite the large amount of room in the back, the two of you stayed conjoined at the hips. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both nervous, maybe it’s the job.

Maybe it’s because you’re both going into a place you’d never purposefully enter. 

“You smell good.” You broke the silence, your knee tapping his. He brought his attention from the window to your face, now noticing the small amount of makeup that accentuated your already beautiful features.

“Thanks. You too.” 

Suddenly, Morgan’s playful voice cut through the weirdly comfortable silence, through to both of your earpieces. “Alright you two. Now, you both know you’ll have to be all lovey-dovey, no acting needed, but don’t over do it. We’re not trying to make contact with Webley, just to get close enough to watch him. If you lose sight of him, hit the dance floor, he and his wife enjoy moving around.” Spencer’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stare at the black floor in concentration. His hands start getting a bit sweaty and he has to clear his throat to coax himself into listening to Morgan. 

“And if he heads for the kitchen, let us know, we’ve got an officer that’s acting as a bodyguard at the back door that can tell us when he’s left.”

Spencer thanks him over the ear piece, holding down a small microphone under his cufflinks. Your hands fiddled with each other, threatening to chip off the nail polish Emily so carefully painted. Spencer felt his heart pump in his chest, but ignored it and took a small mint tin from the inside of his jacket, holding a small white pellet out to you. “Y/n,” he caught your attention and smiled at you sweetly, easing your nerves almost immediately. You took the mint from his palm, your fingertips tracing the lines on his palm softly before you popped it into your mouth. You didn’t have to ask how he knew you needed that, you had grown comfortable with knowing Spencer knew more about you than anyone else in the team. 

The venue was a mansion mixed with a theatre. There were expansive columns lining the outside, countless balconies looking out onto the cityscape, and gardens paired with ponds that were home to some unexpectedly calm swans. You and Spencer both stood there for a few seconds, taking in the architecture, as well as the amount of people entering and exiting the main doors. For a second, you felt giddy and childish. You weaved your arm under his and he let his other hand land over yours to squeeze it gently - he must feel just out of place but weirdly excited as you are. 

Don’t lose sight of the real priority here, Y/n. 

But it’s hard to do that when you’re entering the conjuring of your childhood dreams. 

When you start walking up the large stairs, your heels click and Spencer tightens his arm slightly, your stepping becoming a little uneven. These damn heels. 

“You okay?” He asked, one eyebrow raised slightly. His hair was combed back, his long locks more tamed than usual, but one curly strand just escaped and covered the left side of his forehead. It looked effortless, handsome.

“Um- Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to shoes like this.” You laughed like it's funny and Spencer continued to basically lift you up the stairs with no complaining.

When you stepped foot into the main foyer of the building, there were multiple chandeliers that swayed safely in the bustling movement of the quartz floor. There were multiple vases of red and white flowers, almost matching your dress, and multiple suited guards at every entrance and staircase. They smile at guests, and offer them menus and directions, and smartly conceal their weapons in case of intruders. Intruders being you and Spencer.

When Spencer leads you up to them, his hands finally still and confident, the guards smile at you both - offering you an extra look over that has Spencer angling himself to cover you. 

“Names?” One of them asked, pulling out a checklist from behind his back (you almost thought they were pulling out their small guns - you really were not confident in how to act… well… confident.) 

“Mr and Mrs Conner.” 

“First names?” 

First names? You weren’t given first names. Garcia had made sure that nobody else on the guestlist was by the last name of Conner. You could practically see the cogs churning in Spencer’s head - creativity wasn’t really his strong point. 

“Did you just ask for our first names?” You scoff, your voice becoming a bit whinier than usual, “You obviously live under a rock, there are no other Coopers.” 

The guard widened his eyes, scanning the list again and stuttering, “I’m sorry ma’am. You’re obviously- Have a good night.” The guard lifted an arm as an invitation inside, and you gave him a glare. Spencer smiled once you were both out of sight and squeezed your hand with his own. But there are no words, as you’re too taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the room, if you could even call it that, to focus on the contact. Even larger chandeliers, expansive marble floors and painted ceilings with naked bodies. The warm lighting nearly convinced you that this was just some rich party that people get drunk at and talk about nonsense, but Hotch suddenly talking in your earpieces brought you out of the spell that the pure aesthetics had lured you with. “In the back left of the dance floor, you’ll see Webley dancing with his wife, talking to a pair of aristocrats. Try to get closer, don’t be obvious.”

You released a breath and Spencer adjusted his arms to intertwine his fingers with yours, causing you to meet his gaze in surprise. “We’re in love, remember?” His eyes creased with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in comforting patterns you couldn’t decipher. Oh, you couldn’t forget that. “Right,” you respond, straightening your back and walking with him towards the dance floor. 

His hands carefully rested on your waist, his fingers gripping slightly against the silky fabric of your dress. The contact made your skin burn, a permanent pink painting your cheeks and increasing whenever you made eye contact with the tall and undeniably good looking man you were dancing with. Spencer didn’t look anywhere other than you and the back left of the dance floor. You had almost grown bored of the nerves in your heart before you noticed something you didn’t see before. 

“Hey, your tie matches my dress.” You said softly, barely audible over the music that echoed around the hall. Spencer glanced down at his tie (thankfully still properly tied) and then at your dress. That was a mistake, because now his breathing is deeper and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Spencer nodded and sent you a small smile, “Morgan made sure of it.” 

“Didn’t that spoil it for you?” You asked, finally meeting his gaze. It looked deep, it looked… heavy. 

His swirling brown eyes shot electricity at you when he replied, “Why would it be spoiled?” 

You lowered your head away as you smiled sheepishly, “This is probably the nicest I’ve ever been in front of you. Probably wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be.” 

“You wanted it to be special?” You felt his fingers twitch on your waist as your own fingers twiddled with each other behind his neck. You lifted your face and found him clearing his throat, “I mean, it was still special. Although, I disagree with it being the nicest you’ve ever look.” 

You laughed, and it caused Spencer to crack a smile. 

“I show up to work bare-faced, in second-hand pants and sweaters two times my size. I feel like this is pretty good.” 

“You always look good.” 

You almost stopped your soft swaying with him in shock, and Spencer’s cheek reddened as if he was also shocked he said it. Spencer cleared his throat again, and bit the inside of his lip. 

The others couldn’t hear them right now. The music was soft, people chattered and to be honest, the whole mission had been erased from his mind. Spencer took a long, deep breath.

“I think you look beautiful right now, of course. But you’re still beautiful when you’re dressed like how you like to. I know what it feels like to not want to bring attention to yourself, and how sometimes your clothes can hide you. But…” Spencer stopped your movements with his hands lowering to your hips, he had been instinctively pulling you closer throughout the dance. “There’s nothing you could do, or wear, that could possibly take my attention off of you.” 

You felt your world stand still, although the blur of people didn’t seize, and fluttered your eyelashes at him unsure of how to respond. It was the most he’s spoken to you in one time - excluding random facts and the babbling you accept everyday.

“Spencer…” 

The tall man raised his hands to your waist again, the motion leaving waves of nerves to tumble over you, before he cleared his throat and started darting his eyes from yours to someone’s in the background. 

“Y/n. I think I saw Webley.” His grip only slightly tightened on your silk dress, his fingers curling slightly to move you across the dance floor slowly. You were definitely the more uncoordinated of you two. 

He moved skilfully across the dance floor, avoiding bodies and feet like it was rehearsed. 

“Not too close.” You muttered, Spencer’s attention flickering to you for only a second to nod in agreement. You need to watch him, not make contact with him. 

You grimace slightly, your ankle wobbling at an awkward angle for a second before you recover and-

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his eyes again, his own already burning a hole through you and your heels. 

“I’m fine, again it’s just the heels.” 

“They seem to be causing you a lot of harm,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. Maybe he can distract you. “Did you know that heeled shoes were originally designed for Medieval Soldiers? They were made to make rising horses easier, putting a heel in the stirrups instead of your armoured shoe. And in the 16th century they weren’t supposed to be… to be seen…” He rambled and stopped abruptly.

He didn’t stop because you told him to, or you looked annoyed, or you lost interest. He stopped because you looked… too good to say anything. It made him nervous like a school boy seeing his crush in her prom dress - although he never got to experience that. It felt pretty close.

You tilted your head, a piece of straightened, silky hair falling over your shoulder. Spencer gulped, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand and twirled the piece in his pointer finger. 

It was like an optical illusion, something you know can’t be real, but intrigued you anyways. That’s what you felt, because whatever was happening right now could not be real. 

Spencer Reid looked entranced, hypnotised without knowing. And you looked red. 

“Th-they weren’t supposed to be seen?” 

Spencer snapped out of his trance but didn’t continue, only pulling you forward by the waist and moving that strand behind your ear. Your heart pumped, your ears matching the colour of your dress. 

He didn’t try to kiss you, even if he wanted to so badly. Instead, he lowered his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered, “Let’s go. Webley opened the kitchen door.” 

And your heart dropped.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[midnitetech]

Holistic Health Consultant Career (Semi-Active)

Hey everyone! I (finally) have a brand new career for you to play with! This has definitely given me a few headaches fixing annoyances and making it just how I envisioned, but I'm very happy with the result- I really hope you like it!

It's a full-time, semi-active career, with 10 levels, countless assignments/tasks etc. There's a different Daily Task for every single level, and I've created Chance Cards, Adventure Moments, plenty of buffs and new, immersive interactions.

For those of you (like me) who don’t fancy trekking to Granite Falls every time you need ingredients, I’ve added a custom rabbithole shop: The Green Apothecary! It stocks all the essentials for leveling up your Herbalism Skill and crafting remedies, making things much more convenient. 🌿

If you have Discover University and a Biology degree, you’ll jumpstart your career at Level 4! I’ve set this up as a start level modifier to avoid conflicts with other creators’ career tuning files, but if you prefer the standard approach, let me know.

I can’t wait to hear what you think—happy Simming! 😊

⚠️REQUIRED⚠️

🌐Lot 51's Core Library 📁midnitetech_modlibrary 🎮Required DLC: ���Spa Day 🏕️Outdoor Retreat

ℹ️ Note: To prevent potential game-breaking updates in the future, I've removed all override tuning files. Now, you can publish your Wellness Books through Simazon, or the new custom mailbox options using my Write Books Overhaul mod!

Get help, reach out, or explore more of my creations—all in one place!

Download to C:\Users\....\Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 4\Mods Don't forget Lot 51's Core Library and 📁midnitetech_modlibrary—script files must be no more than 1 folder deep.

PATREON (free)

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Starry Eyes

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

“Starry eyes

What can I do for your attention.”

Summary: Theodore’s late to class but Snape blessed him with the opportunity of sitting next to a cute Ravenclaw who’s no help at all.

1 >

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

Clockwise or counterclockwise? 

You honestly didn’t even know anymore. No matter how many hours you spent on reading the thick potions textbook or wasting bottles after bottles of ink on notes you still barely passed the class. 

You were starting to get a headache from trying to picture the text in your head. Everything was starting to become foggy. You sat down, defeated, and began doodling on the parchment instead of writing detailed instructions on how to make the stupid potion. So much for a Ravenclaw. 

Hmm off shoulder or puffed sleeves?

 You bit your lip trying to decide which option would look better on the dress you sketched out. The classroom was calming with little chattering among your classmates in the back allowing you to work easier. You could never work or do anything in silence, it drove you crazy. 

Suddenly the door slammed open causing you to jump a bit in your seat. 

“Nice of you to join us Mr. Nott, although your presence was expected half an hour ago,” Snape drawled out in his infamous monotone voice. 

“Sorry I overslept,” he shrugged while adjusting his tie. Some students who were listening in laughed. With his messed up tie and ‘burn marks’ on his neck, it was clear that he was definitely doing more than just sleeping. 

Snape nodded and pointed at the empty seat next to you, not surprising anyone that he didn’t take away any house points from his house. 

Theodore eyed you as he walked towards your table. He would’ve preferred sitting with his house, but he could never pass up the chance to sit next to a pretty girl. White blouse with a lace neckline and sleeves, black plaid skirt, Ravenclaw tie, black sleek hair, and a white headband. You didn’t fit into the usual type of girls he went for, but you were cute. 

Theodore took the seat next to you before tapping on your shoulder. 

You turned to him and almost jumped when you found his eyes on you. Gorgeous blueish grayish eyes. 

So pretty, this might be my new favorite color. 

“So uh,” Theo cleared his throat ignoring the fact that he swore he just saw your eyes sparkle, “what are we doing?” 

You blinked. Under the pressure of a somewhat attractive boy it made your memory much worse. 

“Umm, we’re brewing a potion and writing?” 

You had hoped that didn’t come out as a question and hoped that he’d just nod and ask someone else. 

Theodore raised an eyebrow and glanced at your blue tie again. 

“Which potion exactly?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you as if you were lying to him. 

“Antidote to potions. Wait, no poisons. The common one. Wait, maybe the uncommon ones. Well I don’t think there’s a big difference. I mean, shouldn’t the uncommon ones be stronger and still fix the common ones?” You rambled on, looking off to the side lost in your own thoughts. 

Theodore blinked. The sorting hat rarely makes errors, maybe you were high but then again Lovegood’s also a Ravenclaw. The looney population in Ravenclaw must be high. 

“Why can’t they just make a super strong potion that fixes every poison? That’d make our jobs easier and we wouldn’t have to memorize so many potions,” you giggled as you turned back to your sketches. 

Theodore looked over your shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of your paper but instead your sketches caught his eye. You may be no help in potions, but you sure can draw. 

“Are you going to make that?” He asked while you squirmed at the close proximity of his face to yours. 

“Yes,” you mumbled shyly, scared of the criticism that might follow. You loved designing and fashion. It was one of the only things that came naturally to you, but coming from a family of doctors you were vulnerable to criticism for not following in their path. 

“Cute,” he said before his eyes found your potions paper. 

Common poisons. Theodore noticed that you only had half the page completed and chuckled. 

He got up towards the ingredients cabinet and grabbed his ingredients and the ones you were missing. 

Potions came easy to him. Not only did the teacher bias his house, but his mother was a skilled potions maker as well. Matter of fact her entire side of the family were. He had spent most of his summers in his manor reading journals of potion experiments and advanced information that weren’t even in his school textbooks. 

He quickly prepared his ingredients and started on his potion while continuing yours on the side. Luckily you were both in the back and Snape couldn’t catch him. He wrote down his notes and instructions making a mental note to tell you to copy them down later. You’d need it. 

Maybe he was also placed in the wrong house. Today, Hufflepuff seemed more fitting. You were lucky that you’re cute. 

[ladykailitha]

Shut Up and Drive Part 1

Hello and welcome to the little fic that been stewing in my mind off and on since I joined this fandom and have finally starting writing it.

This story was born out of the rogue thought of 'how did Eddie know Steve could drive the RV fast enough to get them the hell out of Dodge?' and the idea that bored rich kids in a small rural town absolutely would go out street racing on the weekends and you have this.

It's technically canon adjacent as you'll see as we lead up to the RV scene, still drifts (I'm punny ;) ) into AU territory later on.

Summary: Eddie does what he needs to to keep the lights on and that means dealing to stupid rich kids with more money than sense. He prefers parties because it's indoors and he's able to slip out the back. But from March until October is when he makes his best money. Because that's when bored, little rich kids race each other for money. And at the end of the season, pink slips. Eddie hates all the leaders of each of the three fractions, Cruise and her Pink Ladies, Titan and his Drift Dynasty, but the one that really grinds his gears is stupid pretty boy King and his even stupider named Asphalt Assassins.

Or in which Carol, Tommy, and Steve all head a street racer crew without the others knowing and no one knowing Steve=King. They're stupid kids, all right?

~

When you live in the middle Bumfuck Nowhere you have very limited options on what to do for fun on the weekends. There’s a movie at the Hawk, the arcade, or if you’re lucky some rich kid will throw a party and invite you.

Or if you’re among the sacred few, you go out street racing. A couple Saturdays a month during the warm months of the year, a group of kids with more money than sense will pick one of the many backroads and race.

Usually they play for money, make bets, that sort of thing. But the weekend before Halloween, they race for pink slips. For the car themselves.

Eddie is always kept in the know because he provides a service these rich kids need. Drugs. Weed is common as is Speed for obvious reasons. Someone else provides the booze, thank god, but Eddie does really well on these nights. He always comes home with enough to keep the lights on and get real food for a week.

He was at the first drag meet of year and after three years of this, he still didn’t know the real name of the “The King”. The best racer and MC. He was a vision in cropped tops and cut off jeans barely long enough to cover his ass. He wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, even at night.

The dude never raced the same car twice; having won so many his first year, they were forced to only have the finale race for pink slips.

He was also the biggest pain in the ass, according to Eddie. He never smoked weed, did any of the harder drugs, nor let anything other than water pass his lips. He had the biggest and deepest pockets but he never bought anything from Eddie. And that stinginess rubbed him the wrong way.

This was going to be the year he made the King fall from his Ivory tower to partake of his goods.

He pulled up to the spot behind the Hess Farm. There was talk that the old man was thinking of selling, so the Dragsters with their three factions, The Asphalt Assassins, The Pink Ladies, and The Drift Dynasty had decided to use it one last time before it was sold to someone with actual fucking hearing.

The King was already there with the rest of the Asphalt Assassins. They had all taken on their King’s disguise of cut off shorts, crop tops, sunglasses and baseball caps. Though their shorts weren’t nearly as short as their leader’s. The King was the only one who wore white, the rest wore black.

Suddenly there was a roar behind him and turned to see the second best team, The Pink Ladies, complete with their pink jackets, high heels, and bandannas over their faces. Their leader Cruise wore a pink tribly with a black band. She looked like Sandy at the end of “Grease” only all in pink.

Then the final faction roared up to the field. The Drift Dynasty. All the members were kids of racers who had raced back in the 50s. Even the two girls. These racers wore red hoodies and black sunglasses. For fuck’s sake they even had their handles printed on the back of the hoodies like sports jerseys. Their leader, Titan was a hard-nosed asshole and Eddie just might hate him more then the King.

Eddie took a brief moment to scan the horizon for cops and then he hopped out of the van. He walked past the other two racing teams as if they didn’t exist. Because as far as he was concerned they would hit him up at any time during the night and he would make bank off of them. No his attention was solely on King.

“Your majesty,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “I’ve come to peddle my wares.”

King snorted. He was currently leaning against metallic purple Dodge Charger, cooler than the frigid night air. Not that he looked like he felt it. He was in his signature Daisy Duke’s and crop top. Sure he had leather jacket on, but it was draped so that it was falling off his shoulders. It looked artful and God did it make Eddie’s blood boil.

“Just announcing my arrival,” he said, wagging his eyebrows. He opened the lunch box and presented it to King. “Anything that tantalizes your majesty?”

King shook his head. “Nothing you have will ever pass these lips, so you best take your ‘wares’ elsewhere, man.”

“I’ll find something that will,” Eddie murmured with a knowing smirk. “Just wait.”

“Keep dreamin’, you dork,” King said, shaking his head fondly. “Go on, your real customers are waiting.”

Eddie straightened up and turned to the crowd. “I’ll be at my van and you know the prices. Anything you want. Until I run out.” He lopped back to his van to watch the races.

The first race was always the most exciting. It was a three-way race between the leaders. The King didn’t always win, but Titan always lost. Rumor had that Titan was the son of the best racer in the game twenty years ago and was always throwing money at the best upgrades money could buy.

Not that it did Titan any good.

He had no instinct on when to use the tools available to him. He boost too early and burn out before the finish line or he would drift when he should slide. Shit like that. Unlike the King. Whose instinct was called a second sense. But Cruise was the one who could keep up with him. She had style and something to prove.

She had gone up to Titan asking for a chance to drive but he laughed in her face. He sure as hell wasn’t laughing every time she passed him.

Cruise leaned against her bright pink Camero, waiting for the men to decide to join her. Titan stepped out of his suped up black and grey Mustang and Eddie shook his head. The oversized hoodie looked ridiculous on the dude’s short frame.

The King strolled over to join them and the hunger in Titan and Cruise’s glances could not be covered by their sunglasses.

“You bet get in your ride, King,” Titan sneered. “Don’t want you freezing off those assets, now do we?”

“Like you could get my engine running, Titan,” King bitched back. “Pick a lane and stick to it, asshole.” He shook Cruise’s hand. “I look forward to racing you this year.”

“It’s always a pleasure, King,” Cruise purred. “Maybe this is the year I get you to step into my ride.”

King looked up and down and Eddie wanted to gag. Hetros are the worst.

“Maybe it will be,” King said with a smirk and then pulled her close to her ear and whispered something, Eddie couldn’t hear.

But when Cruise stepped back, her whole posture was awkward and embarrassed. Which really made him wonder what King told her.

King smirked and stepped back, too. He looked over at Titan. “You actually going to put your money where you mouth is this season or are you going to go crying back to Daddy, like you and the rest of the Dynasty do every year.”

Titan bristled and would have launched himself at King if a couple of his cronies hadn’t held him back.

King crossed his arms in front of his chest, popping one hip. “You want to bring it, Titan? Show me in your car, not your fists.”

Titan brushed his cronies off and straightened his clothes. “One day, King, you’ll lose your crown just like that loser Steve Harrington.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as King grabbed Titan’s shirt and hauled him until their faces were close together. Eddie wasn’t even sure he saw King grab the other guy it was that fast.

“You can’t even insult me without bringing someone else into your shit,” King snarled. “Put up or shut up.” Then he pushed Titan away from him and turned on his heel, striding away from the crowd and to the car he would be racing.

Eddie licked his lips. He wasn’t a car guy, sure he knew his way around an engine but he couldn’t tell you the difference between a Mustang and a Camero. But the car King got into was a sleek black thing that light seemed to bend around. Fuck, Eddie wouldn’t mind taking that baby out for a little spin. It certainly got his engine running.

King rolled up to the starting line, Titan and Cruise pulling along side him. One of the Pink Ladies held a white handkerchief in the air as the rest of the Dragsters made bets on who would win the opening race.

The engines revved as the crowd cheered. The flag went down and they were off the line, muscling for rank.

There was a clear winner, as King edged out ahead and stayed there as Cruise and Titan fought hard for second place.

And in a move that had Eddie cackling so hard he fell out of his van, was Titan coming in second. Cruise got out of her car and cursing threw her hat on the ground, fists clenched in rage.

Whatever King had said to her before the race had gotten into her head and caused her to lose the race. It was glorious to watch. King liked to pull that shit. He’d whisper something in his opponent’s ear and he would get into their head. King always won those races.

The night continued as normal, Eddie doling out the drugs and charging two to three times his normal rates to really rake it in. When someone would complain, Eddie would call it the party tax. It wasn’t his fault they were too stupid to buy during the week, they got what they got and if they kept complaining he would stop selling at these little races and woo-boy wouldn’t that upset the masses.

They would pay the cost and then make sure to pre-buy during the week. Only if they were assholes and skinflints. There weren’t many, but there were a few. Titan was one of these. Eddie had figured out the names of the pre-buyers and their little personas so he could make sure and change them even more when they came crawling to him to get another hit when they blew through the stash they had.

But for Titan, or Tommy Hagan? He would quadruple his prices to at least put a dent in the money Daddy gave him for suping up his car. Because even though Titan never won against King, against almost anyone else, that decked out Mustang of his was not street legal in any sense of the phrase.

Finally he sold his last baggie of weed and forced to close up shop. He checked the crowd and counted numbers, satisfied that everyone was boozing and drugging it up, he stowed the cash in his hiding spot in his steering column and then grabbed a beer.

Eddie raised it to signal that he had closed shop and after this beer he was going home. It was a safety measure to make sure he didn’t get jumped for the cash. If everyone saw him leave then there would be no one to jump him.

He felt a prickling on the back of his neck like someone was watching him. He turned around, but the only person behind him was King sprawled out on the hood of his car and it was hard to tell where his eyes were with those ridiculous shades.

King must have caught him staring because he suddenly smirked and jumped to his feet. Eddie gulped as King made his way over.

“You enjoying the show, Munson?” King asked, licking the top row of his teeth slowly.

“Not much of sports fan of any stripe, Your Majesty,” Eddie said with a dramatic bow, “racing included. I’m here to make money and nothing else. I prefer parties because at least I don’t freeze my ass off, even if the music is better.”

King raised his eyebrow. “It’s too late for your ass, dude. It’s a lost cause.”

“Well not all of us are born your assets,” Eddie said with dimpled smile. “I would rather not lose the rest of mine.”

King burst out laughing. “You’re something else.” He shook his head and walked over to one of the Pink Ladies to flirt with her.

Eddie shook his head and drank his beer, suddenly in a hurry to leave. Because there was no way King was flirting with him, right?

Because there was no world in which any of these rich toffs where interested in him for anything that what he sold them.

Okay, so King never bought from him and as far as he knew, whoever the guy was during the week, didn’t either. So it was possible that whoever he was might be interested in a handjob or a blowjob in the back of his van.

King’s laugh, pulled him out of his thoughts and Eddie looked over. King was leading the girl back to his car. He shook his head. There was no way King was interested in that with him either.

Eddie got into his van and drove off, grateful that the races weren’t every weekend so he wouldn’t have to deal with King more than he had to.

But the fact that King had caught him looking and instead of beating the shit out of him for it, it really felt like he had been flirted with.

Which even if he was interested, there was no way that a have would mix with a have-not. It just didn’t happen outside of movies and books.

But that smirk followed Eddie all the way home.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[nelle-y]

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

[a-d-nox]

mc persona chart observations (part one)

@yoursaintvalentine i don't really get what happened to your ask it wouldn't let me type and answer it - so i am just going to tag you! hope you enjoy!!

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💼 1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or mercury people excel at expressing themselves, whether through writing, speaking, etc. their wit and humor often make them seem "engaging" to others.

💼 1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or mercury people often struggle with indecisiveness when it comes to committing to a single career path.

💼 1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or mercury people come across as articulate, clever, and approachable in their professional or public life. communication is one of their most valuable tools for building their career and public reputation.

💼 1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or mercury people are excellent at networking, solving problems, and thriving in complex working environments.

💼 1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or mercury people excel in roles that require persuasion, teaching, and/or public speaking. their ideas often have a significant impact on their career. they naturally gravitate toward professions that involve communication, media, marketing, and/or education.

💼 1h scorpio (8°, 20°) and/or pluto people draw others to them, even if they’re not overtly seeking attention. its usually because of their aura of emotional intensity and general vibe of knowing all.

💼 1h scorpio (8°, 20°) and/or pluto people have the air of a natural leader, so people are likely to approach them as though they are in charge even when they are not. however, during a crises they are highly adaptable and resilient - they are the best choice for leading a group.

💼 1h scorpio (8°, 20°) and/or pluto people are deeply committed to their ambitions; when they set their mind on a goal, they pursue it with focus and resilience. obstacles only serve to fuel their determination - they achieve what they set out to do.

💼 1h scorpio (8°, 20°) and/or pluto people have difficulty trusting others or delegating responsibilities in professional settings.

💼 1h ruler in 1h often indicates others seeing them as a natural leader who is comfortable being in the spotlight.

💼 1h ruler in 1h indicates taking initiative in life. challenges are met head-on; they prefer to carve their own path rather than follow others.

💼 1h ruler in 11h people often like to be part of a group / surrounded by like-minded individuals. they may not be as productive alone as they are when around others.

💼 1h ruler in 11h people may naturally take on a leadership or prominent role in group settings. they often feel a sense of responsibility to organize / inspire collective efforts.

💼 1h ruler in 11h people's success often comes through collaboration, networking, and/or connecting with people who share their vision.

💼 aries (1°, 13°, 25°) mercury people's confidence is a strength, though they might occasionally speak without thinking things through, leading to misunderstandings and/or conflicts.

💼 aries (1°, 13°, 25°) mercury people's careers might involve starting something from scratch, whether it’s a business, initiative, and/or creative endeavor.

💼 aries (1°, 13°, 25°) mercury people are quick wits with sharp communication skills making them a formidable presence in professional debates/discussions. they make good defensive lawyers and/or politicians.

💼 sagittarius (9°, 21°) mercury people pursue careers or roles where they can continually learn and share knowledge. teaching, writing, public speaking, and/or mentoring are natural fits.

💼 sagittarius (9°, 21°) mercury people might struggle with sticking to one career path; they crave variety, exploration, and freedom. which often leads to frequent shifts or expansions in their professional life.

💼 sagittarius (9°, 21°) mercury people often spread themselves too thin because they pursue "too many" interests.

💼 mercury-pluto aspects often indicate their communication style being compelling and often holds a certain intensity that draws people in. they speak with authority - others are likely to feel that their words carry weight, even if when they don’t say much.

💼 people with mercury-pluto aspects are natural investigators, researchers, and/or strategists.

💼 mercury-pluto people have the uncanny ability to perceive the underlying motivations / hidden truths in situations; they are adept at reading people and understanding what’s really going on beneath the surface. they make great psychologists.

💼 asc positively aspecting nn people have the ability to attract people and opportunities that support their growth.

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[nameless-pirate]

Ace: smutty headcanons

Summary: just some smutty Portgas D Ace headcanons. Tags: nsfw, for both afab and amab reader Notes: Here's to my fire baby!

– MDNI –

Ace is into meaningful connections. He's looking for a spark, understanding, and good conversations. Whether it's a one night stand, a three-day marathon, or a relationship—as long as it's unforgettable.

His one night stands often turn into a two or more nights. But once he's sure you're satisfied and he's also had enough, he's gone. The only thing he leaves behind is a burning candle and a thank-you note with a post scriptum that makes your heart skip a beat.

Likes to play games. Once you start making out, he's gonna pull away from you and ask you to choose a number between 1 and 10. Whatever you choose, that's how many times you're cumming that night.

Your choice is 1, 2, or 3? “Well, baby, that's guaranteed, but I can definitely do more than that.”

Chose a number close to 10? Prepare to be overstimulated. “I know, darling, but you chose this. Do it for me, give me more.”

If you’re in for a longer session, then it’s going to be filled with games. Little bets, such as whoever cums first, loses, guessing games like what he’s writing with his tongue on your body.

Consent is key. He will ask if you're okay to continue every now and then. If you say you'd like a break, it's no problem—you can just lay down next to each other and talk.

Ace is a switch, everybody!

Praise kink that goes both ways. You'll be showered with compliments and “oh, you take me so well”. If you don't reciprocate, he'll ask for it. He doesn't just want to know how good he's making you feel, he needs to know.

Sometimes falls asleep while having slow sex. You need to pull his hair a little or slap his back to wake him up.

Please pull his hair. He needs that.

Loudest moans on the Grand Line.

Loves cockwarming, so if you're in a relationship, you're going to be stuffed.

Might leave you with small burns all over your body. He's not the greatest at controlling his power, especially when his orgasm approaches. He'll feel very sorry and kiss every single burn on your skin as an apology.

If you're in a relationship, you might not get laid every night, but you'll definitely have sex every morning. At least oral as “breakfast is the most important meal of the day”.

(amab) Cum inside him when you're on top. Anywhere else is simply unforgivable. He wants it all.

He doesn’t care where he cums but he’d like to orgasm at the same time as you. Inside you is the preferred option (which I think is the case for most OP men?).

If he covers you with his cum, best believe he’s going to clean you.

If you combine his narcolepsy and love for cockwarming, you might find yourself sleeping with his dick inside you. Especially if you two are dating. In Ace’s eyes, it’s a physical form of how your hearts are souls are also intertwined.

He’s handsy!

Super into role play.

Sometimes he cums too fast. He can’t help it—you’re too hot for your own good (which he will tell you). Don’t worry, he’ll take care of you until he’s good to go again.

[colinrobinsonscardigan]

A Needlessly Thorough Examination of Raphael’s Diary Entries

A close reading by ✨me✨

-

Raphael’s diary entries are, without a doubt, some of, if not my favourite piece of video game flavour text, ever. They provide far more depth to our encounters with him in the game, an insight into his horrible little brain, and detail his downfall in three acts.

This close reading seeks to pick apart the entries, and see what they allow us to glean about this evil doom-seeking-missile of a man, starting with…

ENTRY 1

“[A chapter from a diary penned in Raphael's sybaritic hand].”

So right off the bat, this one line does a lot. His handwriting being described as ‘sybaritic’ is delightful: it’s not just neat, it’s not just nice, it’s luxurious—this is no utilitarian affair. Raphael consistently surrounds himself with fine things, so it’s unsurprising his hand reflects this, he probably wrote all these entries with a silver-nibbed, peacock feather quill or something.

It’s also notable that it’s not ‘a sybaratic hand’ it’s Raphael’s: his handwriting is distinctive. As someone who wants to be king of the Hells, and then the entire multiverse, it’s unsurprising that he wouldn’t want his handwriting to get mixed up with anyone else’s.

Lastly, this sets up a clear precedent for what Raphael’s handwriting normally looks like.


“While I have (over many a sumptuous season) cast the net of my contractual predilections both far and wide, never have I been so attracted to mortals as I am to those infested by the tadpole.”

First of all, and most obviously, his choice of words really is something: “sumptuous”, “contractual predilections”, as with his dialogue Raphael writes like he swallowed a thesaurus. Notable, however, is that this is a diary: this is private, he isn’t speaking like this to impress someone.

Whilst I do think Raphael likes to think of himself as a bit of an intellectual, it also alludes to his love of words. He’s constantly reciting poetry (his, perhaps?), Yurgir’s contract takes the form of a song, he has a giant fully stocked library. It’s showy, obviously, but I do think it displays an earnest passion for language.

This is furthered by the consideration for how his writing sounds. The sibilance (I got my Nat 5 English!) in “sumptuous season” especially displays obvious intention in regards to sound, perhaps shared by the repeated ‘ck’ sound in “contractual predilections”. This all serves to reinforce that Raphael’s love for poetry and music is more than just for appearances.

This is firmly headcanon territory, but I do wonder if Raph’s preference for poetry, music, and plays (see his frequent references to theatre), which are usually spoken aloud, are an attempt to distance himself from his father, Mephistopheles, who is basically Hell’s No 1 Wizard, and therefor almost certainly a book-guy.

Second of all, in terms of the actual things that he’s saying, Raphael essentially conveys that he finds those infected by mind flayer tadpoles unusually interesting, which I think is indicative of Raphael’s love of struggle.

He finds Hope fascinating because she’ll never bend to his will; he outright says Act 1 “I like it when my clients out up a fight, only to realise victory was never an option”; he picks up Mol and rejects Voss in Act 2, yes, because Mol is desperate and Voss has little to offer, but I suspect it’s in part because he respects Mol’s struggle, and objects to Voss’ pursuit of what he sees as an easy answer. He won’t even let you make a contract with him following his offer in Act 1! Dude this is literally your job!!!

So yes, undoubtedly the reason he finds the victims of ceremorphosis so interesting is because they are struggling against the inevitable. I also, and this is purely headcanon, wonder if this reflects the belief that he has set himself apart from his father and forged his own path, rather than accepting his nepo-baby status. Who knows!

This section also sets up the fishing metaphor he uses consistently through his diary entries, because of course he has an allegorical through-line in his own private diary.


“These particular fish find themselves splashing towards their doom, towards a steel hook unblemished by bait. How they resist the current! How inexorable its whelm, its tug, its dark undertow! At the other end of the fishing pole, the illithid. How their tentacles must quiver like cooled jelly at the prospect of more catches: more and more each day along the troubled riverbank. This process has a name I sample now aloud, to saver its taste: Ceremorphosis.”

Minor notes: the alliteration in “unblemished by bait”, and Raphael’s remark that “I sample now aloud, to saver its taste” do continue to emphasise his love of performed language.

“These particular fish find themselves splashing towards their doom, towards a steel hook unblemished by bait.” I would assume this is a reference to the fact that in order to take/corrupt mortal’s souls and take them to the Hells so they can become Devils themselves, Devils must make deals. This isn’t something illithids must do.

“How they resist the current! How inexorable its whelm, its tug, its dark undertow!” Continues Raphael’s delight in struggle.

“At the other end of the fishing pole, the illithid. How their tentacles must quiver like cooled jelly at the prospect of more catches: more and more each day along the troubled riverbank.” I feel that Raphael’s choice of “cooled jelly”, a slightly gross sounding comparison, does betray some level of disgust, disdain, or even just plain weirding-out at the notion of illithids. Remember, this the same man who brought us “sumptuous seasons”, he could have gone with something more appealing.

I personally just think he finds them icky, but maybe he’s trying to place them beneath himself: ‘yes, you kind of do the same thing I do, and maybe you do it in a more efficient manner, but I’m a lot cooler about it’. Who knows?

“I shall make crafty use of this development.”

Not much to say besides “crafty” definitely fitting with his perception of himself as a fox*: a cunning, resourceful creature. Raphael in general has an extremely high view of himself (sometimes to slightly deluded extremes) so this reinforces it, and I think it’s kind of funny.

*when Raphael meets the player, he recites the poem

“The mouse smiled brightly, it outfoxed the cat

Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that.”

If asked whether he’s the cat or the mouse, Raphael will answer ‘the fox’.


“For with the hook glinting, and death so close, what could loom larger in the stricken fish's mind than the prospect of rescue?”

So, amongst Raphael’s fixations, another which stands out maybe a little less but once you see it you can’t unsee it, is his love of perceiving himself as a saviour. He describes himself as “helper of the hopeless and despairing”, even here he picks ‘rescue’ over say ‘help’, which I (subjectively) feel has less knight in shining armour connotations. And of course let us not forget the ever-iconic "Am I a friend? Potentially. An adversary? Conceivably. A saviour? Now that's for certain".

To be absolutely clear, this is not a benevolent interest, getting people out of doomed situations is generally implied to be how he makes most of his contracts (including how he tries to, or does, make a contract with Tav). He is a saviour who takes complete and total advantage of those he “””saves”””. That said, idk, it’s an interesting thing for him to mention so frequently, and I wonder to what extent he believes it.

Still, for his possible misgivings regarding mindflayers, his final line confirms he finds ceremorphosis fascinating. “This process has a name I sample now aloud, to saver its taste: Ceremorphosis.” Perhaps because it’s very different to what do Devils, undoubtedly a little because he enjoys the struggle against the inevitable, and because, to dip wayyyy back into headcanon territory, I think it’s an erasure of the self that he finds morbidly fascinating.

Ceremorphosis, an assimilation into a hive-mind, stands starkly against the sort of prideful individualism that Raphael revels in. He wants to be King of the Hells! He wants to be the saviour! He wants to be the specialist little boy that ever lived! But becoming a mindflayer wipes out who you were, links you up to a collective consciousness, and makes you identical, cookie-cutter, incapable of going against the grain. You cannot be Hell’s specialist little boy if everyone else is just as special as you.

I think the idea of becoming a mindflayer scares him, but becaus it’s not happening to him, he finds it morbidly fascinating. It’s a bit like body horror having a tendency to appeal to those with negative/complicatef relationship with their own bodies, it’s seeing your worst fears played out whilst you’re totally safe. That said, where they did not actually turn Demi Moore into a horrible two-faced abomination for The Substance (as far as I’m aware) this is a real thing happening to real people, so it’s a little more fucked up that Raphael takes pleasure in it.

-

The only closing note I have on Entry 1, is that fishing as a choice of metaphor is important because it’s a very tranquil, very methodical form of hunting. You are not stalking your prey through the undergrowth, prey which has the chance to flee if they hear you, or you miss your shot; you are sitting back and luring your prey, and once it has bitten down on your hook it can thrash and thrash but is unlikely to get free. Fishing is even often regarded as a way to relax. This reflects the mindflayers’ and Raphael’s remove from their prey, and their relative positions of safety.

Uh, RIP king you would have loved Shakespeare.

———

ENTRY 2

Entry 2 is by far the weirdest, but it’s also probably my favourite. I will say that this whole entry, to my mind, is not supposed to tell a clear narrative (i.e. the fire represents Mephistopheles, the hooks represent his plans, etc. and when you slot those in you get a coherent story). I think it’s more representative of Raphael’s subconscious fears, and the forces he feels are acting upon him.

“[A chapter from a diary penned in Raphael's steady, imperious scrawl]”

Right in with entry 2, even before you’ve got the actual content, there’s an obvious tone difference from the previous entry. ‘Steady and imperious’ implies a lot less enjoyment than ‘sybaritic’. It’s a little more practical, there’s less flair, maybe even implying tension in the usually flamboyant cambion. ‘Scrawl’ is perhaps also a little less grandiose than ‘hand’ in terms of word choice. Still, it is collected: Raphael hasn’t gone off the deep end - yet.


“Last night I dreamt of a river. Waist-deep I waded it. Rusted hooks curled up from the water like the snaggled teeth of something ancient and diseased and submerged. The moon over the water cracked and fire flew out on the stubby wings of gormless insanely chirping chicks. They transformed into wriggling oblongs like sperm, yet by the time they hit the water they were fish with scales of orange and gold. There came a rushing sound, the dark water ablaze as if the fish were matches and the river a snake of oil. Approaching me out of the flames came the tadpole-infested. There was one among them who spoke for the rest. They gestured to the melting hooks, suddenly glanced my way, and in their face I saw they had the best of me.”

Because this paragraph is quite big, I’m going to go through it section by section for ease of reading. I would also like to point out the paragraph’s size as a possible indicator of Raphael’s descent. This is a man who delights in language, and takes pride in the way his diary is written: a structureless unburdening this not. Entry 1 has several, mostly even, short-ish paragraphs. This block of text evokes an unbroken stream of consciousness.

“Last night I dreamt of a river. Waist-deep I waded it.” These two sentences immediately place Raphael in the previous domain of the infected. Where before Raphael was the fisherman, casting his net, now he’s right in there with the fish. “Waist-deep” is also pretty deep, if you’re waist deep in a river, especially a fast moving one, you are very much at the mercy of the water. Does this represent that he feels he’s losing control over his situation? Mayhaps.

“Rusted hooks curled up from the water like the snaggled teeth of something ancient and diseased and submerged.” There are, I think, two main ways of interpreting this, but regardless this furthers Raphael being placed in the position of the fish (the en-tadpoled), no longer the hunter but the prey. Where before Raphael was either the fisherman, or a safe and removed observer, he is now in the shit with Tav and the gang. He is now in danger of being caught.

The first way of interpreting this line is that he has grown tangled in his own (and others’) metaphorical nets. He suspects (perhaps unconsciously, and almost certainly correctly if you’re rifling through his pockets) that Tav and Co, the increasingly powerful gaggle of oddballs, are going to turn against him.

He’s also battling with the Emperor, who has its own goals, and Most Certainly Does Not want Tav and Co making deals with Raphael, and is also actively subduing the threat of ceremorphosis, which was Raphael’s former point of leverage.

This also to say nothing of the rogue elements, like Gorthash and Helsik, whom Korilla accuses of spreading the word that Raphael has the Orphic hammer.

Raph may be beginning to wonder if he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

Speaking of chewing, based off Raphael’s allusion to “snaggeled teeth”, the other main interpretation I see is Raphael’s subconscious fear of being eaten. If you look in a crystal ball in the second floor of the Devil’s fee after you murder Raphael in his home, the Narrator informs you “*Within the ball you see Raphael, broken and bloody, dangling above the maw of the archdevil Mephistopheles, who is preparing to devour him.*”

Raphael’s mention of teeth could indicate this is a fate he already suspects will befall him if he fails, whether because it’s something Mephistopheles has threatened him with in the past, or because he’s seen the same fate befall others who incur his father’s wrath. It is notable that Mephistopheles is well known for killing those Devils in his court who threaten to exceed him, and it’s possible Larian feels that consumption is an appropriate execution method for a Devil as hungry for power as Mephistopheles.

I should clarify that I don’t think the hooks represent his father, rather that his choice to compare them to “snaggled teeth” indicates being eaten is one his mind (and not in a fun, sexy way!).

I think both these interpretations are valid. This whole entry is probably the most up to interpretation of all of them, and if you disagree with both these readings and/or have your own, please put it in the notes, I would love to hear.

“The moon over the water cracked and fire flew out on the stubby wings of gormless insanely chirping chicks. They transformed into wriggling oblongs like sperm, yet by the time they hit the water they were fish with scales of orange and gold. There came a rushing sound, the dark water ablaze as if the fish were matches and the river a snake of oil.”

This is a passage I am a little hard pushed to interpret, and I am certain other people are going to have different readings.

The chicks turned sperm, turned fish are almost certainly supposed to represent the tadpole infected, as indicated by the reference to fish (something Raphael previously compared the tadpole infected to in Entry 1) and sperm, something that the tadpoles do kind of resemble. The transformation from ‘gormless chicks’, a freshly hatched - flightless animal of little danger - to fish - something adapted to their marine environment- could perhaps represent Raphael’s fear that Tav and Co are growing more competent than he’d like.

I think that here fire implies Raphael’s own fears about his father. Mephistopheles is literally called the Lord of Hellfire, both for his fiery temper but also because one of the lates in Mephistopheles’ long line of arcane interests is hellfire. Mephista, the main city in Cania and where Mephistopheles resides is also often remarked upon for its warm, blazing hearths. Tldr, Mephistopheles is closely tied to fire, and it seems unlikely that Larian’s writers would have included such a prominent reference to fire without this in mind.

This doesn’t literally means that Raphael thinks Tav and Co are being aided by daddy-dearest, though Haarlep (gifted to Raphael by Mephistopheles) can end up a great ally to you in the House of Hope, rather that his father’s possible influence, or just his father in general, are on his mind.

Finally, the burning of the river is the transformation of his previously tranquil hunting grounds into something dangerous and volatile. Comparing the river to burning oil brings to mind a loss of control, something Raphael is averse to (before he fights Tav in the House of Hope he complains about their bringing chaos into his house). Raphael likes method, order, a fishing rod and bait, he doesn’t hunt his prey with oil and flame. His river no longer serves him.

“Approaching me out of the flames came the tadpole-infested. There was one among them who spoke for the rest. They gestured to the melting hooks, suddenly glanced my way, and in their face I saw they had the best of me.”

This section outright states Raphael’s fears of being bested. Out of the burning wreck of Raphael’s domain comes Tav and Co. The hooks (Raphael’s schemes and traps) are melting in the heat of the burning river. The leader, presumably Tav themself, has defeated him. This is Raphael’s worst-case scenario.


“In waking, my courage has firmed. I progress my plans for the tadpoled even now.

I am Raphael. I am not easily bested.”

For all the tomfoolery of the rest of the entry, these might be my favourite lines. Raphael dreams all of that, goes ‘nope! Not listening!’ and shoves it back down into the depths of his subconscious. No doubts to see here, folks! Because of course he is Raphael, and Raphael doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t fear, “retreat begets regret” as he once said to Mol, and he is not about to have his ambition checked.

“I am Raphael. I am not easily bested” is such a brazen display of arrogance, but paired with the entry we just read it feels more like he’s painting over the cracks. I don’t think that Raphael can admit the possibility of failing to himself, at least not consciously, but he’s kind of increasingly - though subconsciously - aware that it is a distinct possibility.

But also, he writes all of this down! For all his pomp at the end, he does not write ‘I had this really weird dream about a burning river but it probably means nothing lol. Anyway, here’s how my dastardly and most ingeniously constructed schemes are coming along.’ Raphael, is, in his own way beginning to doubt himself, which is fantastic because when you see him in the game he never comes across as anything less than 100% confident. He is bluffing, regardless of how much he would like to admit that to himself, and it adds a lot more depth to your encounters with him.

Fantastic! Peak flavour text! Amazing soup, Larian!

———

ENTRY 3

And so, this brings us finally onto Entry 3, and though I think Entry 2 is my favourite because I like my men pathetic and suffering, Entry 3 100% ends things with a bang.

“[The final chapter from a diary penned in Raphael's hand. Here and there his composed hand stiffens and moves erratically, as if he were by times seized by emotion both powerful and unexpected]”

This is it, folks! The culmination of our Raphael handwriting arc. Immediately, his hand is no longer ‘sybaritic’, not even ‘steady and imperious’ it is just his handwriting.

Furthermore, there is one thing Raphael seldom is (outside of brief bursts of quickly concealed anger) it is ‘erratic’. The handwriting and language in the first entry displays a level of care that goes into his diary, care which he has obviously been unable to maintain. Call this man officially ruffled. We have been told that Raphael is not his usual self.

“The plot thickens goes the aphorism - entirely inadequate. The plot mutates. It fluctuates. I have conceived no less than thirteen variations by which I might seize the Crown of Karsus. Yet in the tumult of this eternally flowing river of schemes, I, the most careful of fishermen, finds his catch elusive and difficult to wrangle. Even in cooperation such ambiguity and delicious surprise! But the hook has snagged, the doom of ceremorphosis has abated, yet they could not predict (could they? could they?) that in leaving behind the river they have in fact welcomed the fishbowl? I am master here. A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin. All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted.”

Here again we get another large text block. Again, this diary is becoming less and less a leisure activity and more a confidante.


“The plot thickens goes the aphorism - entirely inadequate. The plot mutates. It fluctuates.” ‘Mutates’, ‘fluctuates’, these are not the words chosen by a man who is in control. ‘Mutates’ stands out especially because of its more organic connotations, the plot is alive and sick, something that undoubtedly does not appeal to the control-loving Raphael.

Also note the short sentences: these increase the tempo of the writing, like a quickening beat in music, as well as standing out as odd from the usually verbose Raphael. The staccato sentences convey a feeling of intensity, stress.

“I have conceived no less than thirteen variations by which I might seize the Crown of Karsus.” So we don’t know what Raphael’s typical number of contingencies is, but his use of “no less than” would seem to imply this is a lot for him. It could imply he is worried, and it could also be a form of self-reassurance - ‘I have devised so many ways by which I might gain the crown, surely I must succeed’ - I suspect it is a bit of both.

“Yet in the tumult of this eternally flowing river of schemes, I, the most careful of fishermen, finds his catch elusive and difficult to wrangle. Even in cooperation such ambiguity and delicious surprise!” He’s having difficulties, obviously, but Raphael of course delights in struggle, as he always does. I do think that Raphael found his battle for the Crown exciting, at least on a surface level, but I also suspect that this stroking of his own ego, describing himself as “the most careful of fishermen,” is similar to when he says he’s ‘not easily bested’ at the end of Entry 2. Yes, he believes it, he’s so far up his own arse he can probably see daylight again, but he’s also trying to reassure himself.

“But the hook has snagged, the doom of ceremorphosis has abated, yet they could not predict (could they? could they?) that in leaving behind the river they have in fact welcomed the fishbowl?” Raphael, at this point, sounds manic. “(could they? could they?)” marks the return of the short sentences, and also clearly expresses doubt: Raphael fears that he’s met his match. I’m also fairly certain the second ‘could’ should be capitalised, and if so, I feel that Raphael would have to be in a fairly dire state of mind to let slide poor punctuation.

His metaphors are also growing more strained. “in leaving behind the river they have in fact welcomed the fishbowl?” It gets his point across, but it’s not elegant, he’s stretching. Are you wanting Tav and Co as pets now, Raph? I thought you were hunting them.

This is also Raphael acknowledging that he has lost his original bargaining chip - the offer of saving Tav and Co from ceremorphosis - but he tries to reassure himself that they’re out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“I am master here. A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin. All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted.”

See here the further boasting. This is Raphael at his most nervous, and it’s also when he’s the most self-aggrandising. He wouldn’t feel the need to clarify that he’s the ‘master’, that he’s in control, if he didn’t feel that control slipping. If you heard someone describe themself as “A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin.” you would laugh, because it is a fundamentally ridiculous thing to say about yourself, and yet here he is, committing it to paper.

Having “All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted.” as a separate sentence is possibly for rhythmic reasons, but given the subject hasn’t changed, it should grammatically speaking definitely just be the same sentence as ‘scarlet satin’. Raphael’s punctuation has taken a wee bit of a nose-dive, which is absolutely deliberate. It is also a second, fundamentally ridiculous thing to say about oneself. On all levels possibly including physical, Raphael is white-knuckle gripping the bathroom sink as he goes through the world’s most absurd list of daily affirmations.


“So the fisherman reels! The tadpoled are my catch. Struggle as they might, writhe as they wish, flop and squirm and thresh with every ounce of strength, no matter.”

Return of the fishing metaphor, but Raphael has presumably dropped his previous ‘fishbowl’ comparison, unless we are to believe he’s casting his line into a fish-tank. There are two short sentences, followed by one very broken up one, which serves to ratchet up the tempo and tension before the final line. Raphael continues to try and convince himself of the inevitability of his victory, because surely he can’t fail.


“By all the reeking flames of Hell I will not be denied.”

What a closing line. Were I more trite, I might be tempted to call this bratty: to be clear, I do not believe he was spoilt by Mephistopheles, but his initial station as son of the Lord of the Eighth must have earned Raphael a certain level of entitlement, and the sheer magnitude of his ambition undoubtedly would have done the rest. Raphael will not allow himself to entertain the idea of failure, not least of all because he probably suspects that defeat would cost him more than the centuries of sunk time and energy.

-

My closing notes on Raphael’s final entry, is to point out how starkly it contrast with the first. Entry 1’s closing remark, “This process has a name I sample now aloud, to saver its taste: Ceremorphosis.” is an especially poignant comparison: he is savouring, he is taking his time. Compare this to Entry 3, which is rushed, impassioned, manic, and dare I say just a little bit scared.

The last entry also casts a whole new light on your final encounter with him in the game if you decide to kill him. That’s the first time you see him properly angry in the game (he quickly recovers himself if you accuse him of being scared of Yurgir in Act 2), and almost unprompted compares Tav to ‘doomed Karsus’: projecting much?

This entry shows us what was roiling beneath the surface to cause his agitation, and definitely gives an edge of desperation to Raphael’s final act. Perhaps that’s even why calls on Yurgir to aid him in his fight, someone you can make your ally instead, for a - granted, quite challenging - persuasion check, another of Raphael’s schemes you can turn against him.

———

Overall, Raphael’s diary entries serve to both reinforce and subvert what he see of him during encounters, and allow us a glimpse beneath the mask of a character who is always performing. Where Raphael wants Tav to see a cunning negotiator and saviour, one later catch seemingly completely off-guard, the diary entries paint the picture of a man driven to mania by his own ambition, and subsequently caught on the hook of his own line, then devoured.

Anyway, I do have more things I could say about Raphael’s fucked up little brain, but I think I’ll save that for another post, because this one is already pretty long.

Please, please share your own thoughts about this examination. The diary has been rattling about the echo-chamber of my own brain for weeks, so undoubtedly I have missed/misinterpreted things.

[charmedreincarnation]

Dream life before the EOTS challenge

——————————————————————————

Hello beautiful people! I totally get it- as the end of the school year approaches, I understand there's this huge push to finally tap into our dream lives before the beginning of the next school year. But here’s the thing, I don’t want you all to get too caught up in the timing. Instead, I’m excited to share with you a mix of my favorite techniques that can truly help you tap into your dream life, as we should!

Consistency is going to be your best friend here, and naturally, feel free to adjust these to better suit your preferences. I’ve got this strong feeling that this challenge is going to be particularly impactful for those who thrive on methodical approaches and have been searching for their calling for some time now. the journey to your dream life isn’t about rushing or meeting arbitrary deadlines. It’s about finding what resonates with you, applying it with dedication, and allowing your things to unfold in its own way. Use this for anything… your dream life, shifting, the void state, it does not matter ! Just Remember, the journey to your dream life isn’t about rushing or meeting arbitrary deadlines, please be kind and patient with yourself !

——————————————————————————

What we will be using this challenge

1.I am 100% sure technique

2.living in the end

3.reverse psychology techniques

4.Questions technique x SATs

5.optional* lucid dreaming

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1.This is inspired by @gorgeouslypink ‘s challenge but…

Every morning, as soon as you wake up, either say or write or think "I am sure that I will [insert desire]. Anytime you think of your desire, think or repeat that affirmation to yourself as a reminder. You don’t have to do it a billion times. Once is enough and move on with your life. Another tip is, one of my first shifts was by using the 5 sense method while listening to music. Affirming while listening to your favorite song or sound is basically a hack to get you into your desired state.The key is to do it while listening to a song that makes you feel euphoric and in the morning to revise your mind while it’s in theta state ! Just during those times !!! don’t parrot affirmations if it stresses you out

2. You should be "living in the end" in whatever way inspires you. I encourage you all to create your vision boards on Pinterest if you're a visual person, and really immerse yourself in the joy of knowing this is your life. Those are your pictures.

If you're more of a writer, script your success story that you'll send to me, or write a thank you note to your favorite blogger. In the draft, mention how you used this technique along with whatever else you're doing. Write with the conviction that it's real.

For those aspiring to be YouTubers, film a mock video. If you envision yourself becoming a TikToker, start drafting video ideas. And if your dream is to be an actor, do practice runs of your favorite script, if you’re going to be an entrepreneur, draft your business ideas and proposals and draw inspo from your favorite successful entrepreneurs!

Guys, fulfilling yourself and living in the end should be fun! Embrace your inner child, remember how easy it was to believe in Santa Claus even when you were with your mom buying gifts. To become famous like the kids on Disney, all you had to do was desire it and practice making the Disney sign with a wand. Let's bring that love back to manifesting.

3.If you're someone who likes vaunting or affirmations, instead of just parroting affirmations, use the reverse psychology method! Talk about how tired you are of succeeding, how you want to wake up in your CR not your DR, how you're tired of waking up in the void, how lucid dreaming every night by accident ruins your sleep schedule, etc. Do some of the vaunting in front of a mirror, I don’t know theosucholgy about it but vaunting with convections in front of mirror looking straight into my own eyes always brought me results in days.

4. Before bed, think about what you want, imagine being there, and start asking yourself creative questions. Really picture yourself in that situation and take part in it as you answer. One at a time, slowly, we'll get into each question by thinking up answers and feeling like we're really there.

The whole point is to immerse ourselves in the reality of this state as we paint the portrait. Ask yourself whatever questions, then imagine that scene. It doesn’t matter if you do 40 or just 1. Ask yourself what it’s like to enter the void state every night and have a scene of you living your dream life doing whatever you want. Ask yourself what it’s like to be a girl who shifts reality while people fight over resources in the 3D, and imagine yourself in your WR (Waiting ROOM) or DR (Desired Reality) living your dream life. Ask yourself what it’s like being someone who is wealthy in the top 0.001% and imagine a scene of buying expensive things, checking your bank account, and making lunch with finer ingredients. Again, it should be fun; it doesn’t matter how specific or vague the questions are, how long or short the scene is, whether it’s one scene or 100 scenes. Fulfill yourself in SATS (State Akin to Sleep). Whether we do this before a nap, after you wake up, or before you go to bed, it does not matter. Pair this with a nice Subliminal with good music if you desire

5.Combine this with anything from my lucid dreaming guide that resonates with you, or just assume you’ll have a lucid dream and read all the ways you can shift/manifest/or enter the void through in my LD guide!

I know how busy everyone is; this shouldn't take a lot of time, nor should it feel pressuring or like a task. We all deserve our dream life and, most importantly, we all deserve to feel fulfilled as we embody the people we truly are. During this challenge, be kind to yourself, remember why you’re doing this and who it’s for—it's for you. Be persistent and have patience, not just to be a good follower of the law but to be good to yourself! We all can do it; I know it.

[witch-of-snow-and-stars]

How to Make a Charm Necklace Magic-Style

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩‧⁺⋆⁺‧₊☽✧☾₊‧⁺⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

So in a recent post I talked about having a set of charms that I wear whenever I leave the house. I thought it might be a fun tutorial to detail how someone could make a similar thing for themselves! The post is a long one, so the rest of the guide is under the cut!

Step 1: Lay out all of your perspective charms and see what speaks to you and what you might want to put together. When you're choosing pieces, try to think of your goal and intent while you're putting your charms together (i.e. mine is for general day-to-day so I mostly focus the charms around safety, ease of way, and good fortune. Tailor yours to what you need). You don't have to make a necklace, just make sure that whatever you're attaching your charms to and the jump ring(s) connecting everything are sturdy enough to hold the charms' weight.

I have a 'main' components and 'auxiliary' components with the main components being the anchor points and foundation of what I'm working towards (i.e. I have my locket with sigils and my key charms as main components and I'll switch out the other parts as desired). Listed below are some ideas for options that you can combine, but use whatever feels best to you:

Lockets- I HIGHLY RECOMMEND that a locket is part of your configuration. You can fit a slip of paper with spells/sigils written on it AND if it's a scent locket you can add a bit of fabric with a perfume oil or a spell oil that would be safe to wear (check the spell oil ingredients if you're going to use a spell oil).

Bottle/Vial Charm Pendants- these are really good for wearable spell jars (you'd just have to careful about breaking them). You can buy pre-made bottle spell charms (there are a lot of options available) OR you can buy a vial pendant and do a working of your own choosing depending on your preferences/needs (there are also many options for empty vial charms you can buy). You could also keep spell powders/dusts in a vial charm (also usable for on-the-go workings).

Crystal Pendants- If you are someone who utilizes crystals in your practice, having some complementary crystals or crystals that you tend to favor can really add a kick.

Religious pendants/charms- Pentacles/crosses/saint pendants/deity pendants/etc. are all good options for this sort of configuration if they're something that features in your practice or you have a specific figure you want to invoke.

Symbol/Icon charms- similarly to the option above, charms that have animals/flowers/symbols/ whatever else you may want to invoke the properties/help of can be a good addition as well

Bells- bells have traditionally been used in different cultures for sound cleansing and to ward off negative spirits/entities. If that's something you might want (and are ok with making some noise) adding a bell might be a nice touch.

Keys- keys are useful magically for unblocking roads, gaining access, and invoking magic/energy relating to crossroads. Keys/key charms can be pretty easy to get too, so it might be worth trying to have one in your configuration.

Other meaningful charms: as it says on the tin, if it's important to you or you want to keep it on you, try it out in your configuration see if it will work well with it. In the picture above of my own pendant collection alongside more standard pieces there's an antique pen knife that can be worn as a pendant. Put whatever you want on these configurations is my point.

Tip! Some pendants like the pendant on the right have a paste/textured back that you can write on. If that's something you'd want to do, aim for something that looks like the pendant on the right. It's a solid way to hide sigil magic in your jewelry.

Step 2: Prepare the individual charms that you're going to be putting together. Clean/cleanse* everything appropriately (use mundane and magical methods), get sigils written out, anoint anything that you want to anoint, charge/enchant anything that needs it- whatever workings you need to do to the individual components of your charm necklace, do them now.

*If you're using metal pieces (especially if they're old/antique) there's a decent chance you may need to clean those pieces periodically with a metal cleaner/polish. When you clean the metal, do maintenance work for the rest of the configuration by charging/re-enchanting the other charms.

Step 3: Put your charms together and test out your configuration. Sometimes things won't work together as well together or a different component will work better in your configuration.

Ending Notes & Tips

If you put something like this on an object, make sure you focus on how you need/want to effect the object. Like, I have another variation of this on a chain on my bag, and that working is more focused on security and being unobtrusive more than anything else.

Generally I would consider how fragile your individual charms/items are and how likely breakages are to occur. You don't want to be scattering any broken glass/sharp bits and you definitely don't want to cut yourself on anything in the event of any broken charms.

Other considerations should be if individual parts are safe to wear. As previously mentioned, select for spell oils that are safe to wear and for crystal pendants that won't interact with water/skin oils/body products (i.e. selenite melts in water and pyrite will create sulfuric acid when exposed to water). Basically make sure that having this on your skin isn't going to cause any problems for you.

It can be a a good idea to change up individual charms in your configuration to tweak things to your daily needs. Using my usual configuration as an example, I'll switch out my crystal pendants or other charms if I have specific needs/events for a day (like maybe if I'm traveling I'd add more protection/safe travel oriented charms or if I had a date on I'd choose one of my love/attraction charms).

I hope this gave you some ideas for your own practice, thanks for reading💜

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩‧⁺⋆⁺‧₊☽✧☾₊‧⁺⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[vampireghostlawyer]

daan's contradictions

One of the aspects of Daan's character that I find the most interesting is how often he contradicts himself throughout the game. Even in some party talks where he doesn't contradict himself, he will act entirely different about a situation depending on who else is present. To a certain extent, all of the characters act slightly differently based on your party makeup, but I think Daan is particularly intriguing because of how much he does this.

Also, he is the catalyst for a lot of the other characters to act differently, such as Karin becoming more obstinate when he's in the party, and both O'saa and Olivia becoming more talkative with him compared to other contestants.

I've seen some people who mistake this for Miro having a lot of different opinions on how Daan should act, or even poor writing, but I think this is definitely more indicative of the strength of Miro's writing. I really feel like this is a conscious choice on the part of Daan's character and I want to try and explain my thoughts about why he acts how he does, as well as provide some examples.

Examples:

1.) In one of Daan's earliest conversations in the game (if Karin is in the party), he will lament his shoes getting ruined and Karin will accuse him of being too prissy to spend time outdoors. She'll point out how he's a city slicker with soft hands and doubts that he'd have the skills to survive on his own. He'll refute her but he'll dodge her questions about being a "city slicker" and his explanations of how he'd survive are either sarcastically bad, or he's genuinely pretending not to know.

In a later party talk, we learn that Daan actually spent the majority of his childhood living in nature before he was taken in by Eihner (or started selling Sylvian services, depending on his backstory).

This makes his answers to Karin, as well as his constant comments throughout the game about how poorly he's handling the Prehevil weather and nature, very strange. If he really did grow up in nature, he should know better than to eat random mushrooms and shouldn't be bothered by things like the smell of lake water or mud, but he still makes a point of acting like he's not used to encountering them.

Additionally, if Olivia is in the party, Daan will actually backtrack on some of his comments about nature and express an interest in it, seemingly just to be nice to her.

2. When standing in the rafters of the church, if Karin is in the party, she'll express a fear of heights, Daan will point it out (in what seems to be a teasing way), and they'll bicker a bit.

Despite this interaction, if you do a party talk in the same area and Karin isn't in your party, it becomes clear that Daan is also afraid of the rafters lmao.

3. When O'saa comments on the bookstore, Daan will act offended and argue with him about the value of books and reading.

When visiting the same store without O'saa, Daan will not express a fondness for reading or share the story about A Tree Grows in Rondon, and will even say he finds books boring.

Despite this, he will once again seem to like books during his party talks in the Mayor's House.

3.) When not playing as Daan, he will tell the player (in a few different interactions) that he either plans to stay on the train, or thinks it's the best option.

He says variations of the above lines with every player character and in a few different dialogue branches. Ironically, he actually doesn't wait around by the train. In fact, Daan is one of three characters who doesn't spawn at all during the morning of Day 1. While some characters (like Olivia) will actually wait by the train, despite Daan's comments, he only ever spawns by the train during that initial interaction (and immediately after), and then doesn't return until he can be found in the shack later that day.

4.) Daan says in one party talk that he prefers being out in open areas because they seem safer, yet when Karin says the same thing, he makes fun of her for it.

5.) In some party talks, Daan will talk openly about sex, however when Abella is present, he becomes much more prudish. One example is in the department store, Daan will make a comment about how the torture victims seem to be screaming in pleasure, and if Levi is present, will agree with him that the torture is consensual.

When Abella is in the group, however, he will instead act disgusted by what he sees. Similarly, when O'saa makes a joke about sex in front of him at the PRHVL Bop, or when Marcoh and him joke about joining an orgy at the museum, Daan will go along with it, but when Abella does the same about the Sylvian statue in town, Daan will stop her.

These are just a few examples, I remember seeing a few more in my first few playthroughs, but these are just the ones that stuck out to me the most.

Analysis:

I think it makes a lot of sense that with Daan's background, he would have to have a lot of skill at appeasing others. In any version of his backstory, he would have had to rely on getting other people to trust or like him, so it's probably something he's developed a skill at. I think that can explain a lot of his random contradictions when interacting with others.

Daan's blank soul also plays a part in this, I believe. In the narrative, both with the Dutches and with Pocketcat, Daan serves as an empty vessel meant to fulfill the whims of someone else, be it Eihner's ritual or the Pocketcat's need for a body. In gameplay, most of his abilities help others at the cost of hurting himself in some way. Daan's life and story revolve around the people he's surrounded by, so it makes sense that his interactions with others would mirror that on a more minor scale.

I also think that a lot of Daan's calmness is a facade meant to trick the player (and other contestants). When we see Daan in a lot of extreme and horrifying scenarios in the game, he is hardly bothered. Attempting to kill Daan, having him inspect his fiancee's body, having him in the party for the fight with stitches or needles, or even amputating all his limbs, still only end with Daan acting almost comically calm for the situation. In contrast, when he undergoes minor annoyances like ruining his shoes or entering the sewers, he reacts very strongly. I think his apathetic personality is a coping mechanism to deal with his past trauma, as well as the trauma of Prehevil, and that his true emotions slip through the cracks of his less important interactions. That's why, when he's talking to Karin or O'saa for example, he is much more emotive and mocking.

Finally, I also think Daan is a bit of a liar. Likely due to the same reasons as needing to please others for safety and survival, he also developed a talent for lying. Throughout the game he is either incredibly secretive, or even sometimes outright lies to the player and other characters whenever he is questioned about his actions, motives, or past.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their merch (FNAF SB) (Part 2/2)

Writing the opening of this and part 1 right after writing a oneshot start to finish hiss.. hand is very tense and I'm very sleepy.. thank you tumblr draft option

This post was originally going to include eclipse but now thwt I think about it.... I dont.. think there's eclipse merch in game... also with how.. sun and moon are I wouldn't be surprised if basic workers/customers don't know ab eclipse grrrgrrr

Characters: Sun, Moon, DJMM

Notes: reader is gn and human, still trying to find my footing with writing djmm.... love that thang oouuugh but im not sure how i want to portray him yet sobsob

CWs: none

SUN

a headband with sun rays! it may look a little silly but isnt that the point! the daycare attendant is a jester after all! theyre a pair of silly guys!

lights up when he sees you wearing it and skips over... his own rays are spinning around as he tells you how cute you look with them on- or cool if you prefer to be called that! or some other compliment! assuming hes not calling you ever word under the sun...

hes more used to seeing people wearing a shirt with him on it or dressing up in his colors and so on compared to moon, but that doesnt make him any less excited to see someone coming in looking like him!

crushed if any of the rays get dented or torn depending on what material theyre made of, will do his best to mend it

MOON

his hat... sure, its not the most unique thing out there but he knows its supposed to be his when you come into the daycare wearing it for naptime!

will snatch it up off your head to make sure its the real deal or just some other product from some costume shop... WILL be dangling from his wire so you cant take it back from him

if it werent for the sleeping children nearby he would tease you more and hold it just out of reach

he may tease you for it but it does make him feel a bit... weird... not weird bad, probably! its just that sun is typically the more favored one in general so seeing someone just... rocking his stuff... plushies are one thing but wearing something is different!

DJ MUSIC MAN

headphones! they look cool! they even light up! how cool is that!

it takes him a moment to notice that youre wearing them but as soon as he does hes going to sign to you that he thinks you look nice with them!

if he hasnt already given you a playlist of music or otherwise given you songs hes going to make sure you have at least a little something to listen to with your new headphones!

he doesnt have much merch and hes pretty okay with that, actually he was surprised he even had headphones in the first place- at most he thought hed get a plushie or something! he thinks its sweet that you wanted to match with him...

[ukranianacearo]

Hii, can I ask for death the kid x fem reader that likes pissing kid off? Like making her whole entire being symmetrical but at the end, kid still manages to fall for her <3

She's crazy but, she's mine

Fem!Reader

Tw: second-hand embarrassment, maybe but, overall, its chill

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Death, the kid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: She makes Kid cringe like a spur candy, and also just like a sour candy, Kid can't stop himself from liking her

Author's note: We don't talk about the title. Iykyk, but anyway. Sorry for taking so much time to write this, I just didn't know what to write about this. I do have some ideas, but I'm not too sure about how to write them as a story, so I'll just do head canons about that. I hope you still enjoy it and there might be grammatical mistakes. More undercut!

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ꨄ︎ He is just SO pissed when he sees you

ꨄ︎ Depending of the context of the situation, he may or may not start ranting to you about how you're so asymmetrical and unbalanced

ꨄ︎ You're most certainly are just giggling like a maniac at that

ꨄ︎ From then on, you make an extra effort to piss him off

ꨄ︎ Glasses? Different shapes.

ꨄ︎ Piercings? Different accessories/colors/places

ꨄ︎ Clothes? Different patterns on each side.

ꨄ︎ Pants or skirt? Different sizes on each size

ꨄ︎ You get the idea.

ꨄ︎ It just physically ruins his day and he has to stop himself from ranting about it every single time

ꨄ︎ Tries to avoid you so much, just to make life easier

ꨄ︎ But his father, for some reason, decides to pair you up for missions a lot

ꨄ︎ From what he's heard, it is to "teach him about patience and control his focus"

ꨄ︎ After some time though, he gets used to you

ꨄ︎ Still pissed off every time he sees you with everything asymmetrical but, you're a routine now

ꨄ︎ This is a very slow process though, so be patient

ꨄ︎ Or just like annoying people, idk, you decide

ꨄ︎ After a long time, he'll realize how used he got to you

ꨄ︎ But, he'll need a push for that

ꨄ︎ Like you being gone on a mission for long, or you being in lethal danger

ꨄ︎ Also, bonus point if the lethal wounds come from the battle with his brother

ꨄ︎ Or something similar

ꨄ︎ That might be the moment he'll realize that even you are mortal. That you'll die one day but, he'll continue on living for centuries

ꨄ︎ And he can't just die and not leave someone else to take his post, he's the next Lord of Death

ꨄ︎ When you recover or come back, he will be more patient with you

ꨄ︎ Still, he'll ask you to tone down the asymmetrical thing

ꨄ︎ He'll try to not press on I if you say no but, will appreciate if you tone it down even a little bit

ꨄ︎ After that, you two might start getting closer

ꨄ︎ It's still a slow process tho, be patient

ꨄ︎ Eventually, he might fall for you, and if you do too, you two will start dating

ꨄ︎ I'm not really sure who will ask the other one out first

ꨄ︎ May be him, because he's much more aware of the time you two have together is short

ꨄ︎ Or maybe it's you, for whatever reason, be it because of the same reason, might be because you're more confident, you chose

ꨄ︎ The time you two have together will be priceless to him

ꨄ︎ I'm sure that even after you die, he still thinks of you

ꨄ︎ Either keeps all the stuff because of your memories, or gets rid of all of it for the unbearable pain that he feels when he remembers that you're dead

ꨄ︎ But even though you two seem like complete opposites, you both still love each other

ꨄ︎ Also, about the kids, I think he might be open to a lot of options, but will prefer 1 or 2 kids

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I'm sorry this took so long 🙂 I hope you liked it at least. Also, for some reasons, my asks have been more filled since last post. I'm not sure how fast I'll be able to do them, I have exams now. But like, I have them almost all the time. I will try my best